God’s Faithfulness in Marriage: 12 Years of Electing Love

A few Sundays ago, we celebrated 12 years of marriage. 13 years together, but 12 of sharing life–homes, cars, jobs, children. My husband very eloquently surmised this as a milestone because, “We completed 12 years of grade school, so it’s like we’re graduating”. 🙂 How romantic!

In many ways, it was just another ordinary day. It was Sunday–the busiest for our family. Full of meetings, singing, interactions with the community God has provided here in Maine. On this day, like every other Sunday, we were awakened early by the sound of our littlest. This is a hallmark of the day for us both. Like always, everyone ended up in our queen-sized bed(which seems to be shrinking!) and I eventually slipped out to begin the day’s routine. Coffee(or tea, if you’re me), breakfast, and hurried preparation for Sunday worship. In the midst of the morning’s rush our eldest sneaked into the kitchen and whispered, Happy Anniversary, Mama. You know, my favorite part of August is watching your video. Tearfully, I hugged this one who has recently become one of our most sentimental children and tried to recall when we started what has become tradition.

It must have started back in our first year–before anyone else came along. My own Mama, knowing how bittersweet moving away from my beloved Southern roots had been, sent a big box of green peanuts. All the way from Georgia! This was(for those who may not know) for the purpose of creating one of our favorite snacks–boiled peanuts. I remember sitting back on our porch in San Diego waiting as the smell of salty water sifted through our first[tiny] real home. When they were finally finished, we relished the treat while while watching our wedding footage. It was a sweet memory for us, and is somehow now a tradition embroidered in the fabric of our family. We must have had several pounds this year, but the peanuts were gone within just a few days!

As I reflected on the day–complete with a celebratory meal, homemade cards from the kids and(of course) our special viewing party–I would not have changed anything. If you would have told me 12 years ago that we’d be here–far up in the Northeast(having survived almost 10 years of NE winters!) with four precious children[and a dog]in tow, multiple moves and jobs behind us, I may not have believed it. The sweetest part(besides the gift of the little tribe of souls we’ve been given) for me has been the growth. I realized Sunday–as I was called out of a service to change our youngest–where my husband was preaching as the pastor of our church[this was a particular highlight of the day!]– I never would have dreamed we’d be here. Not even just our geographic “here”, but all of it.

In our anniversary card, Tyler wrote the passage he has prayed over our marriage from the beginning–

 I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear me forever, for their own good and the good of their children after them. 40 I will make with them an everlasting covenant, that I will not turn away from doing good to them. And I will put the fear of me in their hearts, that they may not turn from me. 41 I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul. Jeremiah 32:39-41

It is by God’s faithfulness that this is our here. That passage in particular is speaking of God’s chosen people facing an impending judgment through exile. This was because of their own foolishness in pursuit of something that would never satisfy. They were overthrown by outside forces and obstinate; refusing the Lord’s laws and commands(which were for their very good). But the Lord promises restoration. Even amidst the pronouncement of a sure and coming judgment, the Lord repeatedly promises mercy. He assures the people through this very vulnerable prophet [Jeremiah] that peace will come.

As I considered this, I was struck by the many times we’ve failed–in marriage, life choices, parenting, etc. But God is always faithful. In His kindness, He has carefully and tenderly preserved our lives over these last 12 years. And we have nothing on which to stand except His very character. It has not been through any merit of our own, or even any of our most meager efforts. It is all by the sovereign hand of His might and will. This is exactly what the passage speaks of–the Israelites were not chosen because any good existed within them. In fact, it was the exact opposite. They had rebelled wickedly and decidedly. But they were chosen. And God–in His divine affection-promised to: focus their hearts to fear Him, produce a harvest of righteousness for generations, to love them covenantally, and to continue doing them good[forever], that they would be rooted in faithfulness.

I had always read that as–the Lord will make his people faithful. And I don’t think that is entirely wrong. But there was a little whisper of human merit in that belief. It now seems to me that it is only always the faithfulness of God in which we are rooted. He continually pursues, provides and protects–keeping us ever in step with His Spirit(Deut. 31:8, Psalm 145:20).

And so, as we sat there rejoicing over the last 12 years, I couldn’t feel anything but weepy. Because I fail miserably more often than not. I am impatient, selfish and grumpy[particularly in the evenings]. I am a melancholy, overly-sensitive and critical jerk sometimes, but the God of the Universe chose me. I couldn’t tell you why, honestly.Except for the merciful doctrine of election. And as we stumble along together for many, many, many[I pray!] more decades together I am grateful to cling[however feebly] to his “mighty and outstretched arm” (Deut. 26:8).

Soli Deo Gloria

God from the beginning chose His people; when the unnavigated ether was yet unfanned by the wing of a single angel, when space was shoreless, or else unborn, when universal silence reigned, and not a voice or whisper shocked the solemnity of silence, when there was no being, and no motion, no time, and naught but God Himself, alone in His eternity. Charles Spurgeon

In This Job

I often forget that this is the dream. In those long, awkward teen years, when I wondered if a boy would ever notice me, this is the man I prayed for.

And on the hectic, stifling college days when my dorm suite kitchen squeezed me in, this was the house I imagined.

It was enough for me to dream, to hope—to pray—that this would be my one day.

Of course those days were tearfully joyful and sorrowful with every emotion mixed in-between. It is not lost on me that the days of my youth were a sweet symbol of a season that will never again be.

But this life…this was the beginning of forever. It was my impossible prayer, my pipe dream; the dream within the dream.

So why then does my heart so easily forget?


And once again, Jeremiah’s warning that the heart is deceitful cautions my wayward heart…

They won’t be little forever, reminds my husband lovingly. And while he is right, sometimes—lately especially—this heart forgets. I become enraptured with other seemingly lofty thoughts—or even new dreams that have skewed my perspective. The caveat here is, naturally, that dreams aren’t necessarily destructive. But my placement of these dreams is.


This job has been given to me to do. Therefore, it is a gift. Therefore, it is a privilege. Therefore, it is an offering I may make to God. Therefore, it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him. Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God’s way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness.

Elisabeth Elliot

For me, this is the job. I could pursue more if God allowed but for this season, I am home. If I’m being honest, some days I wrestle with the calling. Of course I have career goals, and my days don’t always feel the most stimulating, but they are good because their Author is. And even when I’m feeling the moments are wasted [which is a lie permeating my thoughts all too often] there is so much joy in this quiet life. All of the sweaty kisses, carefully curated dress up shows, nighttime rocking rituals coupled with hymns and laughter, foraging adventures, tree excursions and every moment in between and thereafter. For now—for always—instead of a forgetful [read: discontented] spirit I can choose gratitude.

It is here, and not somewhere else, that I may learn faithfulness.

Oh Father, may my fickle heart ever treasure the beauty of these sacred, fleeting moments!

This Present Darkness

There is a point during winter at which everything[for me, at least] feels heavy. The seeming permanence of the season weighs me down as the snow[though beautiful] continues to fall with no promise–or even glimpse–of any sign of Spring. Life in rural Vermont promises nothing less though, and I do at least appreciate its direct–though sometimes painfully blunt–nature. This is something I’ve grown to love during our time here–the consistency and resilience of the culture seeps into your soul before you have time to do anything but appreciate it.

And yet…

The days are long, cold and sometimes very[and quite literally] gray. This proves especially difficult for a highly introverted mama with tiny people who have no full way of expending energy. We have to embrace the bitterly cold days however , bundling up to spend at least some time outside, crafting, having tea time, telling stories, building tents, etc. I am endlessly grateful for our sizable, partially finished basement–perfect for racing cars, running, dancing, gymnastics, etc. These things are my saving grace on long days when I can’t seem to catch a break and my spirit feels grumpy.

Coming to Vermont I knew this weather would impact me as an INFP prone to seasonal depression. But right now this weight feels heavier than ever. The potential causes for this are numerous–depending on the day, my attitude, my expectations, etc. But mostly, I think, I’ve been discouraged because of the looming cultural darkness I’ve observed all around me. Sometimes it helps to step away from news/media/etc. and just breathe. I hope for better things. I pray for mercy, but ultimately I cannot ignore the reality that things may not get better here on earth. This is the result of living in a fallen world.

Today while sharing a beloved book(my favorite in the series) with my eldest, my heart found words which spoke into my heaviness pristinely.

The sailors on the Dawn Treader have sailed treacherous seas in search of lost lords, stumbling upon enchanted islands bearing witness to giants, monopods, treasure, dragons, magical people -and everything in between. Always hopeful at the prospect of finding Aslan’s country. And now–near the end– they find themselves surrounded by a suffocating darkness. This is a darkness uniquely known, yet never before felt, leaving everyone woefully worn and repressed to go on. It seems inescapable.

“Never get out!” he yelled. That’s it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out!

Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting-top and whispered, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now”. The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little–a very, very little–better. “After all, nothing has really happened to us yet, ” she thought.

“Look!” cried Rynelf’s voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.

Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong, sweet voice what seemed to be words, though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose and began to fly slowly ahead,bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, Courage, dear heart. And the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s and with the voice a delicious smell in her face.

In a few moments the darkness turned into grayness ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lewis)

Do I wonder why? Do I pray that things will change? Do I worry about the future? YES. But I was reminded that this darkness permeating the world is no news. The fact that people wounded, broken people walk the earth hurting other wounded, broken people is no surprise–not to me, and especially not to the Father.

In the weary winter days, the gloom sometimes leaves me feeling defeated. But my hope is not lost. There is always light, there is always peace. There is always a joy readily available when my gaze is transfixed on the “things above, not the things on earth”.

This week—I saw that light in the form of warmer days. The snow finally started to melt, the sun shone brightly and even though the wind whipped our bodies to and fro as we lingered outside, we could bear it. It was my heart’s personal charge to have courage; to endure. To live in remembrance of the immutable, unfading Light. And I do not take it for granted.

And so whenever these winter days envelop my spirit, feeling unbearably woeful and heavy, I want to look back and remember God’s faithful hand.

He does not leave us in our darkness, but instead pierces through with an unchanging, unshakable hope. We must watch for it. We must wait for it. For it is there all along.

REDEEMINGTHEMUNDANE

This Woeful Wondering

 To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore.  

Jude 24-25


We live in a broken, fallen world. Every day, I wake up and struggle with that. As a wife and mother, most days I wrestle with feeling overwhelmed by my daily tasks. There is always something that needs to be done, but this season is precious! How do I savor the sweet moments with littles while also keeping the house clean? Sleep doesn’t feel restful, because there is too much to be done, and when I actually close my eyes it seems brief. On top of everything, there is this gnawing anxiety in my stomach regarding the future. Where will we go? What will our nation be like? What is going to happen to my children? What will their years as parents entail?


51/2 years ago, I became a mama. It was—apart from marriage—the most sobering transition I’ve faced so far. I carried this tiny baby in my womb, and suddenly, she was out in the world and we were magically parents. Did this mean I would know how to meet her needs? Not necessarily. I had to figure it out.
Now, almost 6 years later, I have two more precious babes and life has been a whirlwind. I have loved every minute—even the messy, disorganized, smelly ones. But, some days, admittedly, I feel like I am barely surviving…barely hanging on by the thread of my last cup of [insert caffeine-infused drink here].

Recently, my heart has felt heavy. In just a matter of decades, this country has rapidly changed. In my heart, it feels like things continue to get worse. And I am grieved. I walk around daily wondering how we could ever move into it. But then I realized: it may not be that this world has gotten worse. Maybe I’m just noticing its fallen nature more. I remember years ago crying out to the Lord regarding my own heart:

Father, I want to do this well. Show me. I don’t want to feel drained of energy constantly, and discouraged because my heart is finding hope in the temporal. Help!

In a [rare] quiet moment that day, He whispered,
I am here. I am for you. I love you. I am holding you. In every season, in every transition, whatever the circumstance, I do not change. Embrace my fearless love. Rest in my unchanging ways. Cling to me as your hope. And remember that in everything, I am God. I am in control. You are not meant to merely survive. Run to me each morning. Lay your burdens on me; I can handle it. In doing that, you will flourish.

The truth is: this world is no worse than it was after the Fall. Hurting people have–and always will–continue to hurt other people, ultimately because they have lost sight of (or never saw) their need to be whole. But the beauty of beholding brokenness is found in the grace of recognizing our need for rescue. This world and its desires will continue to deteriorate around us–and believers may suffer–but there is hope in knowing Christ! He alone is our solid Refuge and Strength(Psalm 46:1), and He is in control. No matter what happens, we can rest in His sovereign will. We can stop, fix our gaze on Him, and endure well–prayerfully engaging in opportunities to point others to Him.

Beloved friends, do not lose heart! Wherever you are this morning, however you feel, whatever you face, stop and take a moment to meditate on who God is(Psalms 103-104)! He is the Creator, the Holy One, the perfect Redeemer. As we fix our eyes on Him, the wearying circumstances of earth will surely grow strangely dim, and our hearts will press on in encouraged certainty. Oh, to have a heart fully fixed on his face! Oh, to rest in who He is! May our fickle hearts find peace in Him alone!


Other helpful avenues of encouragement:

1.  Seek out community. Specifically biblical community through a local body of believers(Hebrews 10:23-24). God has not called you to live out this purpose alone. Find a friend or a group of friends to walk alongside and pray with you. It helps, I promise. Plus, you’ll meet some wonderful people. In every season, God has provided faithful friendships that have spanned our marriage, despite many life transitions. Just recently I was thanking God for providing godly and goofy friends–those people with whom I can breathe and life feels a little less lonely. It has been a rich blessing and I am grateful.

  2.  Pray. By yourself. With another woman. Both. You will be reminded of what God is doing and how to continue praying to that end. Plus, you’ll become more aware of your daily dependence on Christ (2 Chronicles 7:14, John 15:5)
3.    Memorize the Word. Find a passage to claim over this situation and know. Chew on it daily until it is burned in your mind. That way, when the Enemy tries to attack, you can fight him with the inerrant, infallible, sufficient promises of God. Let this very word counsel your weary, restless heart. (Psalm 119:23)
  4.  Pour out. For me personally, when the hard days come, I ask the Lord for opportunities to serve Him—whether through checking in on a friend, writing a note, making a care package for someone, etc. I’m learning there are many ways to creatively love people even when you’re tied down by a busy schedule. Psalm 126:6 is one of my favorite promises–the Lord will be honored when we seek to invest rather than isolate.
5.  Be vulnerable. Share your struggles. The more open and honest you are with others about how you have been challenged, the more opportunities you have to share about what God has done! As a dear friend and mentor once told me, “We’re all in this boat together. We just need to know we’re not alone”. And chances are(as I’ve learned) you aren’t.

What about you? What is your calling today? This week? In this season of life? Who are your “people”? What is your burden? Surrender it to the Father.

He is more than able to keep you from falling…