Looseness Makes a Marriage Healthy

Brennan Manning tells the following story:

A man walked into the doctor’s office and said, "Doctor, I have this awful headache that never leaves me. Could you give me something for it?"

"I will," said the doctor, "but I want to check a few things out first. Tell me, do you drink a lot of liquor?"

"Liquor?" said the man indignantly. "I never touch the filthy stuff."

"How about smoking?"

"I think smoking is disgusting. I’ve never in my life touched tobacco."

"I’m a bit embarrassed to ask this, but you know the way some men are-- do you do any running around at night?"

"Of course not. What do you take me for? I’m in bed every night by ten o’clock at the latest."

"Tell me," said the doctor, "the pain in the head you speak of, is it a sharp, shooting kind of pain?"

"Yes," said the man. "That’s it-- a sharp, shooting kind of pain."

"Simple, my dear fellow! Your trouble is you have your halo on too tight. All we need to do is loosen it a bit."

Manning follows up the story with this statement: The trouble with our ideals is that if we live up to all of them, we become impossible to live with.


He's right, and Shelley and I have learned that nowhere is this more true than in the realm of marriage. When a person expects their spouse to be like Jesus, they eventually become angry, frustrated, and convinced that the majority of the problems in their marriage are due to their spouse not being committed or godly enough.

On the other hand, when a person accepts their spouse as a sinner loved by Jesus, they become understanding, affectionate, uncritical, honest about their own flaws, and joyful that they are loved by Jesus no matter what. They begin to realize that the sins of their past and their spouse's past have not only been forgiven by Jesus, but forgotten by him as well. They begin to realize that being a "godly example" does not mean striving to be better and avoid mistakes, but letting people see them repent and be forgiven when they make mistakes.

Two theological terms are important for us to understand at this point:

Justification is the act of being declared righteous by God. We are justified by believing the Gospel (the good news that Jesus died for our sins and rose from the dead).

Sanctification is the process of growing in godliness and becoming more like Jesus.

But here's the question: If justification is obtained by believing the Gospel, how is sanctification obtained? If you answered "by obeying," or "by striving to live up to high ideals," then you might as well rip Colossians chapters 2 and 3 and all of Romans and Galatians out of your Bible.

The fact is, justification and sanctification are both obtained by believing the Gospel. Living by the Law is what made Saul an angry person. He was in conflct with Christians not because they were preaching Law and morality, but because they were preaching grace and he feared that their message would lead people into a life of moral laxity and disregard for obedience. As a result, he became "impossible to live with." People were in conflict with Jesus not because he was commanding people to be like Him, but because he accepted people who were not like Him-- and for that matter, who didn't even love Him.

How intimate is your marriage? Has the romance faded? Do you blame yourself and your spouse for things that happened years ago? Have you forgotten that Jesus has justified you and forgotten your sins? Have you placed such high ideals on your spouse that you find yourself constantly disappointed in him or her? Do you find yourself thinking that if only your spouse tried harder and obeyed more your marriage would be better? Have you forgotten that Jesus perfectly obeyed the Law on your behalf, and that "He who began a good work in you WILL carry it to completion on the day of Christ Jesus"?

If so, loosen your halo and believe the Gospel. Not only will you be a lot easier to live with, but you'll be amazed at how your romance will blossom.

Quotes

If I had to choose my favorite quotes, it would be hard to narrow it down to my top 100. Nevertheless, here are three I love.


Martin Luther: There are some who have no understanding to hear the truth of freedom. . . These people you must resist, do the very opposite, and offend them boldly lest by their impious views they drag many with them into error. For the sake of liberty of the faith do other things which they regarded as the greatest of sins… use your freedom constantly and consistently in the sight of and despite the tyrants and stubborn so that they may learn that they are impious, that their law and works are of no avail for righteousness, and that they had no right to set them up.

Tim Keller: Perhaps the biggest faith-deterrent for the average person today is not so much violence and warfare but the shadow of fanaticism. Many non-believers in Christianity have friends or relatives that have become ‘born again’ and seem to have gone off the deep end. They soon begin to loudly express disapproval of various groups and sectors of our society—especially movies and television, the Democratic party, homosexuals, evolutionists, activist judges, members of other religions (all of which are branded ‘false’) and public schools. When arguing for the truth of their faith they often appear intolerant and self-righteous. This is what many people would call fanaticism. . . So think of people you consider as fanatical. They are over-bearing, self-righteous, opinionated, insensitive, harsh. Why are they so? It is not because they are too fanatically committed to Christ and his gospel, but rather because they are not fanatical enough. They are fanatically zealous and courageous, but they are not fanatically humble, sensitive, loving, empathetic, forgiving, or understanding as Christ was. Because they think of Christianity as a self-improvement moral framework they emulate the Jesus of the whips in the temple, but not the Jesus who said, “let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” (John 8:7) What strikes us as overly-fanatical is actually a failure to be fully-orbed in our commitment to Christ.


Rich Mullins: The gospel. . broke the power of mere "moralistic religiosity" in my life, and revived a deeper acceptance that had long ago withered in me. In our society, we tend to swear unyielding allegiance to a rigid position, confusing that action with finding a connection to a life-giving Spirit. We miss the gospel of Christ: the good news that, although the holy and all-powerful God knows we are dust, He still stoops to breathe into us the breathe of life-- to bring our wounds the balm of acceptance and love.

Consistently Inconsistent

The most consistent thing about me is this: I am inconsistent. Terribly inconsistent.

I hate my inconsistencies, because I'm tired of having to constantly justify myself before others. Living this way eventually becomes enslaving.

But then I realize that we're all this way. And suddenly I love my inconsistencies, because they remind me that I don't have to justify myself before others. Believing this way immediately becomes freeing.


There are plenty of inconsistencies in our lives:

A Christian angrily expresses his disdain for socialism, while using the U.S. postal system to send his bill payments with the money he makes teaching public school (where he earns a salary that qualifies him for a governmental stimulus check, which he gladly signs and deposits in his FDIC insured bank account).

An individual asserts that religion is narrow-minded, so he chooses to be an atheist because it is the only belief that makes sense.

A couple is so against their church relocating that they decide to leave and go to another church-- thus, relocating.

A gay couple proudly dons a rainbow sticker in their car window to show the public that they stand for diversity, while the attendees at their parties are predominately gay couples who voted for Obama.

A Christian agrees that relationships are vital to growing a healthy church, and is upset that his church doesn't organize a program to go door to door asking total strangers why God should let them into heaven if they were to die tonight.

A man chooses only to vote for candidates who are "pro-life" (meaning against abortion), but has never once wept for the Iraqis the U.S. has killed, saying "That's different. It's a war."

A woman complains that her church is not compassionate enough, but gets upset when her church gives gifts to inner-city poor people who are are jobless and unappreciative.

A man gets mad when someone tells him God isn't mad at him.

A person believes that all religions are equally valid paths to God, but refuses to go to a church that believes Jesus is God.

A pastor preaches that husbands are to love their wives as Christ loves the church, and later that night he rolls his eyes when his wife asks him to take out the trash and give the kids a bath.

A couple criticizes their church for years, and then they blame the youth ministry when their own kids eventually turn away from the church.

A heterosexual couple gets worried when a homosexual couple attends their church, but refuse to acknowledge and repent of their own sin of legalism.


Wouldn't it be easier to stop fighting about these things, to stop trying to defend ourselves, and to simply admit that we are ALL (in the words of Brennan Manning) "a bundle of paradoxes"?

What if admitting this freed us from judging people who act differently, believe differently, and look differently, and therefore freed us from bitterness, impatience, condescension, and self-righteousness? These are the sins that are most prevalent in my own heart, and they lead to rather ugly traits from which I long to be delivered. So, what if being free from these traits took our attention off of our attempts to justify ourselves, and opened our eyes to believe Paul's words to the 1st Century Roman Church (which was much like the 21st Century American Church):

"You may think you can condemn such people, but you are just as bad, and you have no excuse! When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you who judge others do these very same things. . . Don't you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can't you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin? . . . for all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." (Romans 2 & 3-- NLT and NIV)


This thrills me, because it reminds me that I am justified by grace through faith in Christ, and therefore no longer have to justify myself before others. Knowing that I am accepted by God doesn't lead to me want to sin more, or to cover up my inconsistencies, but to admit that I am frequently wrong, judgmental, unforgiving, and hard to get along with due to my stubbornness. And it leads me to shout for joy that I am covered by the One who loves me anyway. And when I admit this, the more God breaks in and replaces and rearranges the mix-matched furniture of my heart, revealing how consistently inconsistent and hateful I can be. And slowly but surely, my hypocrisy and self-righteousness begin to lose their grip on me, and God reminds me through His Word that he loves me not because I am right, but because I am HIS. And He promises to change me, to bring me more into conformity with His ways, and to forgive me when I fall short.

That's a truth that IS consistent-- for all eternity.

Beyond Cliches and Clean-Cut Conclusions

Ecclesiastes. It has long been one of my favorite books of the Bible. Part memoir, part poetry, part anecdote, saturated with an earthy and brutally honest tone throughout its twelve chapters. The perfect recipe for a fun read.

The writer is searching, experimenting with life, hoping to conclude with finely packaged answers about the meaning of life and why his beliefs make sense.

But he never gets there.

It doesn't resolve.


Many Christians are uncomfortable with this interpretation. They argue that the writer was frustrated and angry because he was "doing things man's way instead of God's way". They quickly point to the final two sentences of the book where they believe the writer finally sees the light and comes to a clear-cut godly conclusion: "Fear God and keep his commands. For God will bring every hidden deed into judgment, whether good or evil."

The problem is: This is not a conclusion.

Well, it is the writer's conclusion, but it is not the conclusion many people want to believe.

Here's why: The entire book of Ecclesiastes makes clear that the writer not only believed in God from the beginning of chapter one, but also worshiped him, studied him, and sought to do what pleased him. So why was he so discontent, frustrated and angry?

Because he was doing it out of fear.

Yes, fear of what God might do if he disobeyed any of his commands.

When he writes the final two sentences of the book he is NOT referring to the same type of fear of the Lord that other passages in the Bible commend, where fear is used as a sense of speechless awe as one gazes upon the beauty of God. And he is not referring to the same type of obedience Paul speaks of in Romans 1, the obedience that comes from faith in Christ.

What he is really saying in those final sentences is, "Be afraid of God. He burdens us with all kinds of requirements, and if you don't do everything he says he will judge you."

How do we know this? Because in chapter 7 the writer states: "Do not be overrighteous. Neither be overwise. . . On the other hand, do not be overwicked. Don't be a fool. . . Pay attention to these instructions, for anyone who fears God will follow them both."

Interesting. Fearing God will lead you to follow two paths: being overly righteous or overly wicked. Both are simply two different ways of avoiding God, and that is why Ecclesiastes is so relevant for us today.

Our fear of God is leading us to follow two paths: That of the devoutly religious and that of the defiantly rebellious.


On the one hand you have people who are devoutly religious. These people are typically in churches. They love to hear preaching about how God's grace frees us from the need to prove ourselves to God, but they quickly follow it up with "Yes, I agree, but we are also to be holy, and set a good example for others so that no one is led into sin by us doing things that might offend them". These people view everything as black or white, right or wrong, sacred or secular. They can't stand unanswered questions. They don't like it if something is unresolved. They love formulas, principles, and steps that promise godliness.

And they are avoiding God in doing so.


On the other hand, you have people who are defiantly rebellious, who indulge in sins they know will shock others. They are typically not in churches. They view everything as relative, believe that truth is whatever works for you, and that it doesn't matter how you live as long as you are happy.

And they are avoiding God in doing so.


The irony is, it's the people in the second group that are usually more receptive to the Gospel, who have an easier time grasping the concept of God's grace and their need for that grace.

It's those in the first group who try to make God into a neatly packaged belief system, a set of doctrines to be argued, a code of morality to be uniformly adhered to by all. They are often frustrated, vocally critical of their church, easily offended by ungodly people, obsessed with doing everything right, and generally intolerant of anything that is not explicitly Christian.

Think I'm making a leap? Read Luke 15, the story of the man with two sons. Then we'll talk.


The point is, Ecclesiastes raises more questions than answers, and that is precisely why it was written.

It was written to push us to look for the answers by continuing to read the succeeding books of the Bible in which we learn that Jesus perfectly kept all of God's commands, gave you the credit for it, and was nailed to a cross to bear the punishment you deserved for not keeping them, wiping your record clean. Forever.

It was written to make us say "That CAN'T be the end of the story. There HAS to be some good news in all of this", which would then lead us to greater joy when we come to 1st John 4:18: "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."

It was written so that when we read the writer's words in chapter one: "What a heavy burden God has laid on men!", we will continue to search to see if God says otherwise. Then, when we read 1st John 5, "His commands are not burdensome", we will fall head-over-heals in love with the Lover of our souls.


"But I already believe that", you say. "I understand the Gospel".

I must confess: I say this all the time. But my daily life proves otherwise. For example:

Why do you say you believe salvation is a free gift that can't be earned, yet when a church participates in a Christmas ministry that gives gifts to the inner-city poor you complain that they are giving handouts to people who haven't worked for it?

Why do you say you believe God is "sovereign" and "in control", yet when a Democrat whose father might have had a Muslim background gets elected President you get upset, speak unkindly of him, question his profession of faith in Christ, and make snide jokes about how you'd like to move overseas?

Why do you say you believe Galatians 5:1 which states "Christ has truly set us free", but quickly add "But that means that we are only free to obey"? What happens if you don't obey? Would God love you less?

Why do you say you believe we should not forbid things the Scriptures do not forbid, but when a Christian friend gets together with other men in the church for a beer and a "secular" movie, you get concerned and say that it was not a wise use of God's time and money?

The answer is simply this: You don't understand the Gospel. Neither do I. You know the facts, that Jesus died for your sins and rose from the dead, but you haven't thought through the implications of those facts. Neither have I. There's a disconnect in our minds between spiritual matters and everyday life matters. That's why the Christian life is a process not of learning principles to live by, but of continually rediscovering the Gospel.

Discover the richness of Ecclesiastes. Explore it. Wrestle with it. Argue with it. Ponder it. Let it push you to believe what the writer himself believed: "There is a time to dance. . . He has made everything beautiful in it's time".

I hope that's music to your ears. If not, get closer to the Musician and listen some more.

Does Grace Have a Big But?

Ever heard someone express concern about something being a "slippery slope"? I have. And unfortunately it was always expressed in response to someone doing things that the Bible allows, and even encourages. Here are a few examples I have heard over the years: We don't want women reading Scripture in a worship service (which the Bible allows) because that might lead to men not taking initiative as leaders. . . We shouldn't allow people to wear jeans to church (which the Bible allows) because that might lead to people dressing provocatively. . . We shouldn't put our kids in public schools (which the Bible allows) because they might have a teacher who teaches a different view of creation. . . We shouldn't use wine for communion (which the Bible commands) because it might offend people who are teetotalers. . . Please understand, I'm all for unity in the church (and I should add that the above statements are not matters of concern in the church where I currently serve), and I believe in being "careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody", as the Bible says. The problem is that that's really not what's behind the above "slippery slope" concerns. What really lies behind those statements is disbelief. Yes, disbelief that Jesus came to set us free from the commandments of men. It's as if people are afraid that if individuals really believe that God loves them unconditionally (which the Bible calls "grace") they might start living a life of wild abandon, in addition to possibly voting Democrat and listening to "secular" rock music. People who have this fear want all statements about God's grace to be qualified-- in other words, we must preach a "grace, but" theology. A pastor friend of mine was recently accused by his leadership of preaching "cheap grace" when he told his congregation that "grace means God will never be angry with you again." (It's interesting that those who object to such a statement are often very angry themselves). They wanted him to add something like "But, you need to keep trying to be godly, being careful not to sin. Otherwise God might get angry." The fact is, grace is neither cheap nor costly. It's free. Otherwise it wouldn't be grace. In other words, grace doesn't have a big but, a little but, a nice but, or a firm but. Grace is but-less. Otherwise it would not be grace. If you are admiring the beauty of God from atop the glorious mountain of His grace, you won't be concerned about the slope. You'll believe Psalm 121 which states, "He will not let your foot slip," and you will be free. Free to live, free to love, free to laugh, cry, doubt, repent, forgive and be forgiven. In Luke chapter 7 Jesus tells a remorseful prostitute who comes to Him in tears that she is forgiven. And the story ends. No buts. No ifs. Just 'Your sins are forgiven. . . Go in peace." Of course the other people in the room (some of whom were religious leaders) were probably nervous that she might go and sleep around some more. That she was getting off too easy. That Jesus should have been more harsh. But Jesus knew better. That's grace.

I Hope You Dance

Soon to be six years old, Carly is the older of our two daughters. Like many six-year-old kids, she has much to learn about how to behave. Specifically, she interrupts me when I'm talking, she often doesn't answer me when I ask her what she learned at school, and she gets lots of food and grape juice on her clothes when she eats, thus my wife has become a stock-owner of Spray and Wash. But here's the thing: She loves to dance. Never is she more graceful, peaceful, and utterly joyful than when she dances. At her most recent ballet recital, she and her class danced to Barbara Streisand's 'Memories'. . . 'Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise, I must think of a new life. . .'. It hit me: I'm determined to get her to behave by demanding that she answer me properly, warning her about how inconvenient it is when she gets a stain on her clothes, and thinking I can improve her behavior by promising ice cream or a movie. The problem is, the more rules I try to enforce, the more mechanical and predictable our relationship becomes. When she dances, however, she dances neither in fear of making a mistake nor in hope of getting a reward. She simply dances, savoring each moment as a portrait of beauty and delight. I ask you, when it comes to living what Jesus called 'an abundant life', who is closer to understanding the love and grace of God: the one who behaves, tries hard to always answer correctly, and never stains their clothes, or the one who dances freely and goes wherever the music takes her just grateful for the joy of knowing that even if she slips and dances rather poorly, a roomful of loving parents will applaud, and her father will embrace her and bring her home when it's over? I think you know the answer, and I hope you dance.