For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. (Ephesians 1:4, NIV)
The marital relationship is a sacred one. It must be. Only something sacred could be so powerful, able to affect those within the matrimonial bonds in both life-giving and death-gripping ways. Anyone who has been married for any length of time at all (or been around any married couple) can feel the power of it.
In its noblest form, it is meant to be a dynamic, living picture of the covenant relationship between Christ and His bride.
In its noblest form, it is meant to be a dynamic, living picture of the covenant relationship between Christ and His bride. God uses marriage, among other vehicles of grace, to shift and shape and form in us the character and self-sacrificial love that He gets to enjoy within the Trinitarian fellowship. “Shape us” sounds good, but for those who are or have ever been in a marital relationship, that is a euphemism for the ongoing redemptive, hard, sometimes brutally painful work of sanctification.
Among other Christlike qualities that the Father seems to be relentlessly shaping in us are humility and courage, which show up as the willingness to acknowledge and work to repair those ruptures that are inevitable within the relationship. We are invited by Jesus to consider our own hearts and then to walk with God the risky path of humbling ourselves before our spouses and asking for help from the one human being on the planet who can see us better than anyone else (and yet, during conflict, also seems blind to recognize us at all!).
Fred and Julie came into my office one Fall afternoon in a state of quiet contempt and despair. What began two years before as a blissful engagement and a celebratory wedding day had since given way to conflict that kept them feeling separated from one another, misunderstood, blamed, and alone. There are few things more painful than to sit two feet from your soulmate but feel like you are miles apart.
Julie felt cut off from Fred, isolated. When she would try to bring to him the hurt of feeling unpursued, he would close down and leave the room. On his part, Fred felt attacked and belittled, and confused as to how Julie went from a doting wife to an angry roommate. He would pull away to lick his wounds and limit the conflict, which intensified Julie’s sense of abandonment. Julie would then try to fix by pointing out what Fred was doing that was hurting her, which would intensify Fred’s sense of failure and confusion, which he handled by pulling away even further. On and one the couple spiraled until, exhausted and broken, they slumped into the couch in front of me.
One of the first things Fred and Julie needed was a way to make sense of what was happening. They were tempted – as we all are in marital conflict – to blame one another for the pain. “If he would just…” “If she wouldn’t…” Screaming in our hearts is the message that our spouse is hurting us, abandoning us, attacking us. Slowly together Julie and Fred were able to recognize that the problem didn’t lie with one another, but rather with the fuller picture of interaction: what one spouse did to try to limit the damage was the very thing that intensified the hurt for the other. As they were able to see the game rather than focus on the ball, they found more courage to let God do work in their own hearts. “I can see better how Fred is hurting and pulls away to deal with that, not meaning to reject me, but to stop the conflict,” Julie reflected tenderly. Fred also started to see that Julie was trying to reconnect with him, missing his love and affection.
Over time, Julie was able to recognize the long-standing wound of abandonment and rejection that would get lanced when Fred moved away. Fred, for his part, was able to reflect on the lifelong shame of feeling inadequate and failing before people he cared about the most. With courage, both were able to name and grieve the deeper injuries and then invite their partners to see their need to be understood, connected, and honored. Over time, they could even accept responsibility for unintentionally inflicting further damage on these tender places in their spouse’s hearts.
All along the way, I was amazed at the risk each spouse was willing to take, to little by little reopen their hearts before one another. They were honoring the power of the relationship, both to bring hurt but also to bring restoration. The longing for the bond to return ran deep, and they followed the stream back toward one another.
Marital conflict is thus an opportunity for a profound kind of restoration. It is the opportunity for us to repair the rifts in the relationship. If done well, the weld after a break can be stronger than the original relationship.
Marital conflict is thus an opportunity for a profound kind of restoration. It is the opportunity for us to repair the rifts in the relationship. If done well, the weld after a break can be stronger than the original relationship. But in a deeper way, it is also a chance to engage our own growth and healing, the restoration of broken and hurt and underdeveloped places within our being. While for Julie and Fred (and most of us) the most obvious issue during their conflict was how each was trying to fix the problem as they understood it or else limit the damage it was causing, what ran deeper yet was the longing for both holiness and wholeness, the “blamelessness” that Paul refers to in Ephesians 1:4. The longing to be restored in the relationship as well as within our own deep hearts might be the deepest thing about us, a picture of the “eternity in the human heart” that God has set within each of us (Ecclesiastes 3:11, NIV).
Take time in the storm of the conflict to slow down and invite Jesus to open you up to what He wants to do both within your marriage as well as within your own heart. Ask Him for the eyes to see first your own position in the conflict and then to understand your spouse as well. Pursue healing both for the relationship as well as for your hearts. The shaping and growth the Lord gives us in these places is well worth the risk.
Author Info
Dr. Brian Fidler
Dr. Brian Fidler is an assistant professor of counseling at Colorado Christian University and a psychotherapist in private practice, helping couples for more than a decade. He has worked with hundreds of couples through the years who wish to work through their marriage struggles and deepen their intimate connection. Dr. Fidler and his wife have been married for 20 years and enjoy spending time with their family, reading, and exploring the outdoors.