In Every Season: A Marriage Meditation

On the side of the refrigerator in my house, there are two pictures of Michelle and me.  The first was taken in the summer of 2003, just a month or two after Michelle and I began dating.  Next to it is a picture of us that was taken two summers ago, at a wedding that I had the privilege of officiating (I'm guessing you can tell which one is which!). 

I remember looking at those two pictures a few months ago, taken nine years apart, and thinking, “Wow…we’ve changed!”  Michelle at 23 years old and Michelle at 32 years old is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but she looks different (in my opinion, even more beautiful now than then, by a landslide).  And back in 2003, I had hair!  I stared at those two pictures for a minute or so, freshly marveling that she actually said Yes, and felt such a deep sweetness of affection for her in that moment, as I considered that we are getting old…together.

Michelle and I celebrated our tenth anniversary last week.  While that’s a milestone that may be entry-level for many of the married people in our congregation, it’s still a reminder that we’re not as young as we used to be, and that’s clear by looking at these two pictures of us.  We’re getting old together, and as we age (both spiritually and physically), we’re learning to love each other in the different seasons of life that two people inevitably experience when they commit to doing life together, until death parts.

We knew this in theory when we were married ten years ago, and tried to give expression to that by dancing to a song by Steven Curtis Chapman called, “We Will Dance,” at our wedding reception:

I've watched the sunrise in your eyes
And I've seen the tears fall like the rain
You've seen me fight so brave and strong
You've held my hand when I'm afraid

We've watched the seasons come and go
We'll see them come and go again
But in winter's chill, or summer's breeze
One thing will not be changin'

CHORUS:
We will dance
When the sun is shining
In the pouring rain
We'll spin and we'll sway
And we will dance
When the gentle breeze
Becomes a hurricane
The music will play
And I'll take your hand
And hold you close to me
And we will dance

Sometimes it's hard to hold you tight
Sometimes we feel so far apart
Sometimes we dance as one
And feel the beating of each other’s hearts

Some days the dance is slow and sweet
Some days we're bouncing off the walls
No matter how this world may turn
Our love will keep us from fallin'

CHORUS

The music will play
And I'll hold you close
And I won't let you go
Even when our steps
Grow weak and slow
Still I'll take your hand
And hold you close to me
And we, will dance

What we knew in theory ten years ago, we have begun to learn by experience.  When I say we’re learning to love each other in the different “seasons of life”, sometimes those seasons shift and change in the same week.  Sometimes, in the same day.  Sometimes, “winter’s chill” is 8 AM, and we make it to “summer’s breeze” by lunchtime.  But in every season, we’re walking through that season together.  And there’s something unimaginably precious, beautiful and romantic in that, even when the current season doesn’t feel particularly romantic. 

And that’s generally how we’re feeling in this current season.  We are incredibly grateful for the birth of a newborn in March, and we have experienced that joy while being very mindful, and grieved over, the pain of several couples in our Body who have been unable to conceive.  But anyone who has walked through the first few months with a newborn knows, it’s not exactly the hottest time in a marriage.  There are a lot of days when we simply feel like we’re persevering, living more like roommates than husband and wife.

But in a season that is physically and emotionally draining, Michelle and I are continuing to experience a love that is growing, because we’ve learned to not focus quite so much on how this or that particular season might be going, but more on the fact that this is another season that we are walking through together; another season in which we can magnify the covenant love of Jesus for His church in our faithfulness to one another.

Ultimately, that is what marriage is for: not first my own personal fulfillment and satisfaction, but the display of God’s covenant love to His people in Christ (Ephesians 5:31-32).  And displaying that love vividly necessarily involves persevering in love with every passing season of life; whether that season is sweet or sorrowful, enthralling or merely enduring; when we do it together, we show a picture of Christ’s unbreakable, unthwartable, love, which surrounds us in every season of life, for all eternity.

Since I had that light bulb moment in front of those two pictures, I have said to Michelle on a number of occasions, in the midst of some difficulty or challenge (last night it was cleaning up water that had flooded into our basement), something to the effect of, “Thanks for walking through this season with me.”  It’s a way of communicating, “I’m not thrilled to be walking through this right now, and I know you’re not either, but there is no one else I’d rather be walking through this with than you.” 

Only ten years into marriage, I know there are many lessons for Michelle and me to learn.  But as I look at ten years gone by, roughly encapsulated in those two pictures on our refrigerator, I think the most important, valuable lesson I’ve learned is this: in every season, we’re journeying together, to unending, eternal glory with the One we were created and redeemed to display.  And that makes this season -- whether the sun is rising in Michelle's eyes, or the tears are falling like rain -- a special one.   

I want to make the most of every one of those seasons, for God's glory and our great joy.