Because there is no reason not to believe him...
Our last month in the teens. Nineteen months of marital bliss. It goes by really quickly. That's what happens when you're busy. When you spend 40 hours a week working, 50 hours a week sleeping, and the rest filled with things to keep you occupied. Regardless of how many hours you have, though, it's never enough. We could always use more, and I am fully aware that there are times I could use the ones I have more wisely.
It may come as a shock to you, but after 19 months of marriage I have room for improvement. I bet after 19 years of marriage there will still be room. Maybe not as much, but I bet there will be some. Truthfully, there's always room for improvement... in anything. A refusal to improve is usually a guaranteed way to fail. To think one has achieved the pinnacle of perfection and could not possibly do better is an unfortunate thought. In this skin, perfection will never be a reality. That doesn't mean we shouldn't at least aim for it and try our best.
One of the things I really appreciate about Aaron is his honesty. He can't tell a lie, nor does he try. He even has a hard time keeping a surprise a secret. But, you know, that's okay. It's a good quality. An admirable quality. I always thought it was a default quality in marriage, and I came to learn that it's not. I had expected honesty to be everyone's policy, but you live and you learn and I am grateful for a husband who is transparent, trustworthy, and truthful.
We ate dinner last Friday night and we talked about marriage. We do this pretty often. Aaron likes to have "check ups" which is a smart idea. It gives us the opportunity to openly discuss our thoughts and feelings without an incredible amount of emotion driving them. We've both learned it's never wise to discuss our feelings about one another in the heat of the moment. And for me, these "check ups" are a time to be reassured. Sometimes, I still have a hard time believing that Aaron is really my husband and that he really loves me. I know what you're thinking, "Well, of course he does. He wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he didn't love you." It's a logical assumption. But it does my heart good to be reminded of that over and over again as my worst, and unfortunately legitimate, fear would be to lose it.
And so we sat at the table in a crowded steakhouse and I told him I knew that I could improve. I told him each area where I felt I was failing and how I figured I could do better. I told him the places I knew I was coming up short and I told him I was a little afraid that maybe he wasn't telling me something. Maybe there was something that was really rubbing him the wrong way, something that was pushing his buttons, a really pressing issue and I wanted to be sure I knew what it was so I could make the necessary adjustments and changes. I shared with him that I was afraid that maybe he would hold on to these things, whatever they might be, and then just let me have it one day. Just let it all out in a mess of fury and hurt and I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it was that I could fix, that I could do better, so that I would never be in that spot. Ever. Again. Aaron looked at me, eyes wide, and he said, "I love you. I love everything about you. Why else do you think I met and married you so quickly? I had never met anyone like you. I don't see any of those things or think any of those things. And, if I ever did, you know I'd tell you. I would never blind side you. That's not fair."
He's honest. He has no reason not to be, and I have no reason not to believe him. Yet I find it so hard to believe the good things he says over the bad things I think. Because I just find it hard to believe that when he looks at me, good is what he sees. It's hard for me to grasp that. To think that he doesn't see the scars, the mess ups, the failures. That when he looks at me, he sees the things that he loves. That's what he notices, and that's what he thinks about. After all, if it wasn't, I suppose he wouldn't say so.
The Lord is the same way. I think we have this fear in the back of our minds that he's holding our wrongs against us. That's he's hiding behind forgiveness and that one day, we're in for it. One day, he's going to get us. He isn't going to forget all that we've done. He sees it, every bit. And although we know He said He casts our sins are far as the east is from the west, that He remembers them no more, we have a hard time believing that. Because our sin is ever before us. We know where we're constantly coming up short. We know where we keep messing up, but we forget that salvation, like marriage, is a redeeming process. A work we'll never finish. A continuous effort, attempting to do our best.
But He looks at us and He sees the blood. The blood that washed it all away. The blood that cleansed us from our unrighteousness. The blood that made us as white as snow. He sees His perfect Son standing in the gap on our behalf. He sees the effort. He sees our hearts and our intentions, and He knows. He knows we won't get it right all the time. He knows we're wrapped in flesh and bound to come up short. And, sure, He is aware of the fact that we've sinned but He chooses not to remember that. He chooses not to see that. He chooses to look past our failed attempts, our mess ups, and our bad decisions to see who we have become. To see who we are now and who we are becoming. And He offers grace, keeps offering grace, and won't stop. He won't blind side us. He won't tell us one thing and then do another. He is honest. He means what He says. And we can trust that He will always uphold His every word.
"He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust. Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone— as though we had never been here. But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children of those who are faithful to his covenant, of those who obey his commandments!" - Psalm 103:12-18
It may come as a shock to you, but after 19 months of marriage I have room for improvement. I bet after 19 years of marriage there will still be room. Maybe not as much, but I bet there will be some. Truthfully, there's always room for improvement... in anything. A refusal to improve is usually a guaranteed way to fail. To think one has achieved the pinnacle of perfection and could not possibly do better is an unfortunate thought. In this skin, perfection will never be a reality. That doesn't mean we shouldn't at least aim for it and try our best.
One of the things I really appreciate about Aaron is his honesty. He can't tell a lie, nor does he try. He even has a hard time keeping a surprise a secret. But, you know, that's okay. It's a good quality. An admirable quality. I always thought it was a default quality in marriage, and I came to learn that it's not. I had expected honesty to be everyone's policy, but you live and you learn and I am grateful for a husband who is transparent, trustworthy, and truthful.
We ate dinner last Friday night and we talked about marriage. We do this pretty often. Aaron likes to have "check ups" which is a smart idea. It gives us the opportunity to openly discuss our thoughts and feelings without an incredible amount of emotion driving them. We've both learned it's never wise to discuss our feelings about one another in the heat of the moment. And for me, these "check ups" are a time to be reassured. Sometimes, I still have a hard time believing that Aaron is really my husband and that he really loves me. I know what you're thinking, "Well, of course he does. He wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he didn't love you." It's a logical assumption. But it does my heart good to be reminded of that over and over again as my worst, and unfortunately legitimate, fear would be to lose it.
And so we sat at the table in a crowded steakhouse and I told him I knew that I could improve. I told him each area where I felt I was failing and how I figured I could do better. I told him the places I knew I was coming up short and I told him I was a little afraid that maybe he wasn't telling me something. Maybe there was something that was really rubbing him the wrong way, something that was pushing his buttons, a really pressing issue and I wanted to be sure I knew what it was so I could make the necessary adjustments and changes. I shared with him that I was afraid that maybe he would hold on to these things, whatever they might be, and then just let me have it one day. Just let it all out in a mess of fury and hurt and I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it was that I could fix, that I could do better, so that I would never be in that spot. Ever. Again. Aaron looked at me, eyes wide, and he said, "I love you. I love everything about you. Why else do you think I met and married you so quickly? I had never met anyone like you. I don't see any of those things or think any of those things. And, if I ever did, you know I'd tell you. I would never blind side you. That's not fair."
He's honest. He has no reason not to be, and I have no reason not to believe him. Yet I find it so hard to believe the good things he says over the bad things I think. Because I just find it hard to believe that when he looks at me, good is what he sees. It's hard for me to grasp that. To think that he doesn't see the scars, the mess ups, the failures. That when he looks at me, he sees the things that he loves. That's what he notices, and that's what he thinks about. After all, if it wasn't, I suppose he wouldn't say so.
The Lord is the same way. I think we have this fear in the back of our minds that he's holding our wrongs against us. That's he's hiding behind forgiveness and that one day, we're in for it. One day, he's going to get us. He isn't going to forget all that we've done. He sees it, every bit. And although we know He said He casts our sins are far as the east is from the west, that He remembers them no more, we have a hard time believing that. Because our sin is ever before us. We know where we're constantly coming up short. We know where we keep messing up, but we forget that salvation, like marriage, is a redeeming process. A work we'll never finish. A continuous effort, attempting to do our best.
But He looks at us and He sees the blood. The blood that washed it all away. The blood that cleansed us from our unrighteousness. The blood that made us as white as snow. He sees His perfect Son standing in the gap on our behalf. He sees the effort. He sees our hearts and our intentions, and He knows. He knows we won't get it right all the time. He knows we're wrapped in flesh and bound to come up short. And, sure, He is aware of the fact that we've sinned but He chooses not to remember that. He chooses not to see that. He chooses to look past our failed attempts, our mess ups, and our bad decisions to see who we have become. To see who we are now and who we are becoming. And He offers grace, keeps offering grace, and won't stop. He won't blind side us. He won't tell us one thing and then do another. He is honest. He means what He says. And we can trust that He will always uphold His every word.
"He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust. Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone— as though we had never been here. But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children of those who are faithful to his covenant, of those who obey his commandments!" - Psalm 103:12-18
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