"I just don't love him anymore."
"I don't know if I ever really loved her."
"We grew apart."
"I've changed; we want different things now."
"It's better for the kids if they don't see us fighting all the time."
"I'm done."
This is just the short list of comments I've recently heard from close friends. There are many more and it seems the list grows every day. Just today, I saw a friend's Facebook relationship status change to "separated," almost as if she was happy to announce to the world that her marriage was failing. I remember reading comments about that marriage - that it was happy and no one could claim otherwise. But I knew. Somehow, I've known every time...except one.
When we moved 1100 miles away from my family and all our friends, I prayed that God would allow us to quickly make friends who would be like family for us. He certainly answered those prayers and soon, we were living right down the street from a wonderful couple who had led our marriage small group in our new church. They became adopted grandparents to our kids and our families grew close. We even spent Christmas Day together in 2009, along with their adult son, in our home.
That day, Michael and I noticed an incredible amount of tension between the couple. But we had no idea that the husband was, at that very period in time, having an emotional affair with a colleague, if not a full-blown extramarital affair. A couple of months later, Michael and I had a huge fight and this couple was there for us, telling us that they'd watch a series of marriage videos with us and their intentions to stand by us as we worked through a difficult time. All along, they KNEW their marriage was falling apart but chose not to tell us.
In March, all hell broke loose as the wife discovered the affair and left the home. For me, it was like experiencing my parents separating. We were devastated, angry and hurt. Not because we thought they were perfect and now had to realize they weren't, but because it was becoming increasingly difficult to have hope for our marriage as we watched others' go up in flames.
Don't we all vow to stay with our spouses and love them "til death do us part"? It has me wondering what exactly has to die these days in order for us to determine it's time to 'part.' Certainly, it's not physical death. The title of an instrumental theme from the John Grisham movie, "The Firm," comes to mind: The Death of Love and Trust. Cheating, lying, lusting, envying, slacking - all of these can lead to the death of love and trust. Once that death occurs, 50% or more believe they are justified in leaving their spouses. In some cases, one murders the other, almost as if to expedite a legitimate adherence to the marriage vows.
I was raised on sappy, Hollywood versions of love and marriage. Guy and gal meet, fall in love, guy sweeps gal off her feet, marriage ensues, children follow, and happiness abounds. Husband brings home flowers and gifts for wife, wife is always put together and never says a cross word to anyone - a scenario far from what we see in movies and television today. It's a little late for me, though. Now I can identify and accept the shallow attempts at defining romance that plague movie scripts. Husbands aren't always inclined to chase after their wives after a fight. Wives may just be the ones who wish they could spend more time being intimate with their men. A husband who doesn't think about sex 100 times an hour isn't necessarily disinterested in his wife - or more poignantly - it doesn't mean he's a homosexual. But these are examples of what we've been led to believe are the only acceptable realities. At least I was led to believe them. And I don't think I'm the only one.
It all comes down to choices, don't you think? I have so much more I could write and at best, a mild catharsis might take place. So I must focus my feelings and thoughts into one simple concept - choosing to interpret the vows we so readily intimated as they were meant to be interpreted. "Til death do us part" is not open for discussion. Whether it makes people uncomfortable or hurts their feelings or makes them feel guilty as they trot off into rebellion during separation or divorce, the truth is that 'death' means...well, death. Cessation of being. Kicking the bucket. Moving six feet under. When we encounter those times when love seems to have died or been terminally stricken with indifference, we do not part. When trust has been obliterated by the other imperfect spouse in our union, we do not part. When disease sets in and our needs aren't being met - yes, when emotional death is pending - we do not bail.
This is what I'm dealing with right now. I don't feel I can post it on Facebook because my intention is not to hurt my friends who happen to be referenced in this post and are Facebook friends. Honestly, the best I can do most days is to just say this sucks. It sucks to watch the divine institution of marriage being hijacked and spat on and disregarded. Somewhere along the way, we decided that the death of the marriage could be arbitrarily determined by either spouse at any time. So where do you draw the line? What kind of death has to occur before you will "move on" from the life you undoubtedly started without any intention of terminating it someday. Throw in the added collateral damage inflicted on children of "dead" marriages and what do you get, short of a massive societal implosion centered in the home.
"Divorce is not an option." Yah, yah, I've heard that one before. Unfortunately, what we don't realize when we set out on our courses as brides and grooms is that it is, absolutely, an option. But that doesn't mean we have to choose it. I'm discouraged by so many around me who choose it almost too easily, too carelessly, without thought for others and consequences and the impact on generations to come. It does, cause me to move in closer to my husband when he's home and miss him more intensely when he's gone.
But it stil sucks.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
What I Really Wanted to Say Was...
...so much more than I can say on Facebook or Twitter or any other social media site.
Don't get me wrong. I am not a Facebook hater. I am not anti-Facebook and I don't think if you are on Facebook half a day every day that you're going to hell. The popular site has been a great way to keep in touch with friends after moving to New York and I will continue to utilize it as a means to that same end - staying in touch. But, I, like so many millions of others, can only express so much there because hundreds of people may read my status or my notes and things I say will be interpreted hundreds of different ways. One unavoidable consequence of stating how you're feeling or what you're thinking on any particular day in Facebook world is that someone will misinterpret what you've posted. I've even seen the status update, "..." receive presumptuous comments like, "Praying for you!" and "Are you ok?" It sort of makes me laugh but on the other hand, it's kind of sad. Consider this -
I believe Facebook and other social media sites encourage a false sense of "how we're doing." It is rare to come across a status or comment that truly reveals the human condition. Let's face it - the human condition is bit too depressing for my coffee break or as a final thought before leaving the house to go to the grocery store or work out. Knowing that one of my "friends" is struggling with their finances, unemployed for the 11th month in a row, fighting their last round against cancer or about to end their marriage is too intense, too personal and sometimes, indicting for even those on our "Friends" list to know about. But aren't those the things through which we are here to support one another and in which we should direct each other to Christ? Maybe there would be fewer marriages burning to the ground if we put down our laptops long enough to notice the smoke next door. I believe we need to learn to be more comfortable with our own humanity than with the breaking news of someone's child successfully depositing their feces in the toilet.
Before I go any further, I must admit that I am guilty of posting not much more than the mundane details of my daily life. Like millions of others, it allows me to sometimes vent my frustrations and talk about things that matter to me, while packaging it within the guidelines of Facebook's character limits. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. And Facebook has proven a great vehicle for mobilizing people to pray for the sick and those who find themselves in unfortunate situations. What I have noticed, though, is an increasing discomfort with the real problems people face as I'm talking with them in person. It's as if this obsession with knowing what time your friends around the world are getting out of bed and how late they stayed up the night before is desensitizing us to reality. Usually, one would associate "desensitization" with repeated negative stimuli hampering one's ability to process pain and empathize with the suffering party. But in this case, I believe Facebook has desensitized us in the opposite direction. It feeds us only what we want to be fed instead of sometimes, what we may *need* to be fed. In short, we are getting fat on what is, for the most part, small talk.
I think Facebook also provides a form of validation we cannot get from face-to-face interaction. Who of us would go to work and tell every person we see that we're not feeling well or that we googled this really great quote about living a disciplined life? Try it and you may find yourself being labeled as the office whiner or the playgroup complainer. Yet, every day on Facebook, you can find Seinfeld-esque information about hundreds of people and the opportunity to chime in with a brilliant comment, such as, "Hope you feel better!" or "Great quote!" Are our "relationships" really improving? Is society transformed by this type of quasi-communication? Is the world a better place? I'll leave that question to the reader.
Facebook has, in fact, become so important in the lives of 500 million people that at times, it is a sign of sacrifice and devotion to God to declare a "Facebook Fast." This usually garners comments of support such as, "Good for you!" and "Yes, more of us should do that." Is this supposed to be the equivalent of Biblical fasting and praying...setting aside one's physical needs for an encounter with something or Someone bigger than us? Is that our new standard for sacrifice - giving up something that is easy to give up?
When I was on staff with a large Methodist church in Tulsa, OK, I was introduced to the season of Lent. Growing up as a southern Baptist, I was not familiar with it and soon learned that I needed to give something up for 40 days. I learned from those around me the kinds of things I should give up - soda pop, chocolate, fried foods, red meat, sugar, R-rated movies, dating, TV, internet (although this was relatively new back then). "What a great tradition!" I remember thinking, so I joined the masses as they forsook worldly pleasures for 40 days and nights leading up to Easter each year.
While there is certainly nothing sinister about it, over the years, I began to wonder what in the world I was doing. I started praying about what I should give up each year. I was convicted that if I was going to make a sacrifice, it should be something that would truly please God. After awhile, it seemed to me that He didn't want my sacrifices at all. At least, not the sacrifices that would not matter for eternity. In I Samuel 15:22, Samuel said, “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams." I began pondering whether I was actually bringing glory to God when I didn't eat ice cream for over a month or if that glory was being directed at me. After all, most people broadcast what they are giving up for Lent. Why is that? All of these questions led me to suspend the adherence to this tradition until I could figure it out for myself.
What I have discovered is that Lent can and should be a catalyst for better behavior. But not the kind that pertains to what we eat and drink and watch. What if we gave up pride, envy, jealousy, lust, dishonesty, disrespect towards our spouse, selfishness, negativity, gossip, complaining, laziness, a judgmental attitude towards the less fortunate, being stingy with "our" money, gluttony, and all other forms of conduct that offend God? And what if, after those 40 days and nights, our relationships had improved even one iota, we continued in the converse of these: love, joy, peace, patience, longsuffering, kindness, self-control, goodness, faithfulness...
What if?
So these are some of the things going on in my mind and heart right now. A bit too long for a status update. Too heavy for a note. Possibly too uncomfortable for some. But I will be sharing in the future what I think about the comforts we share in American Christianity. Above all, I want God to click the "Like" button on what I have to say, but please feel free to comment with disagreement or agreement at any time.
Don't get me wrong. I am not a Facebook hater. I am not anti-Facebook and I don't think if you are on Facebook half a day every day that you're going to hell. The popular site has been a great way to keep in touch with friends after moving to New York and I will continue to utilize it as a means to that same end - staying in touch. But, I, like so many millions of others, can only express so much there because hundreds of people may read my status or my notes and things I say will be interpreted hundreds of different ways. One unavoidable consequence of stating how you're feeling or what you're thinking on any particular day in Facebook world is that someone will misinterpret what you've posted. I've even seen the status update, "..." receive presumptuous comments like, "Praying for you!" and "Are you ok?" It sort of makes me laugh but on the other hand, it's kind of sad. Consider this -
I believe Facebook and other social media sites encourage a false sense of "how we're doing." It is rare to come across a status or comment that truly reveals the human condition. Let's face it - the human condition is bit too depressing for my coffee break or as a final thought before leaving the house to go to the grocery store or work out. Knowing that one of my "friends" is struggling with their finances, unemployed for the 11th month in a row, fighting their last round against cancer or about to end their marriage is too intense, too personal and sometimes, indicting for even those on our "Friends" list to know about. But aren't those the things through which we are here to support one another and in which we should direct each other to Christ? Maybe there would be fewer marriages burning to the ground if we put down our laptops long enough to notice the smoke next door. I believe we need to learn to be more comfortable with our own humanity than with the breaking news of someone's child successfully depositing their feces in the toilet.
Before I go any further, I must admit that I am guilty of posting not much more than the mundane details of my daily life. Like millions of others, it allows me to sometimes vent my frustrations and talk about things that matter to me, while packaging it within the guidelines of Facebook's character limits. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. And Facebook has proven a great vehicle for mobilizing people to pray for the sick and those who find themselves in unfortunate situations. What I have noticed, though, is an increasing discomfort with the real problems people face as I'm talking with them in person. It's as if this obsession with knowing what time your friends around the world are getting out of bed and how late they stayed up the night before is desensitizing us to reality. Usually, one would associate "desensitization" with repeated negative stimuli hampering one's ability to process pain and empathize with the suffering party. But in this case, I believe Facebook has desensitized us in the opposite direction. It feeds us only what we want to be fed instead of sometimes, what we may *need* to be fed. In short, we are getting fat on what is, for the most part, small talk.
I think Facebook also provides a form of validation we cannot get from face-to-face interaction. Who of us would go to work and tell every person we see that we're not feeling well or that we googled this really great quote about living a disciplined life? Try it and you may find yourself being labeled as the office whiner or the playgroup complainer. Yet, every day on Facebook, you can find Seinfeld-esque information about hundreds of people and the opportunity to chime in with a brilliant comment, such as, "Hope you feel better!" or "Great quote!" Are our "relationships" really improving? Is society transformed by this type of quasi-communication? Is the world a better place? I'll leave that question to the reader.
Facebook has, in fact, become so important in the lives of 500 million people that at times, it is a sign of sacrifice and devotion to God to declare a "Facebook Fast." This usually garners comments of support such as, "Good for you!" and "Yes, more of us should do that." Is this supposed to be the equivalent of Biblical fasting and praying...setting aside one's physical needs for an encounter with something or Someone bigger than us? Is that our new standard for sacrifice - giving up something that is easy to give up?
When I was on staff with a large Methodist church in Tulsa, OK, I was introduced to the season of Lent. Growing up as a southern Baptist, I was not familiar with it and soon learned that I needed to give something up for 40 days. I learned from those around me the kinds of things I should give up - soda pop, chocolate, fried foods, red meat, sugar, R-rated movies, dating, TV, internet (although this was relatively new back then). "What a great tradition!" I remember thinking, so I joined the masses as they forsook worldly pleasures for 40 days and nights leading up to Easter each year.
While there is certainly nothing sinister about it, over the years, I began to wonder what in the world I was doing. I started praying about what I should give up each year. I was convicted that if I was going to make a sacrifice, it should be something that would truly please God. After awhile, it seemed to me that He didn't want my sacrifices at all. At least, not the sacrifices that would not matter for eternity. In I Samuel 15:22, Samuel said, “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams." I began pondering whether I was actually bringing glory to God when I didn't eat ice cream for over a month or if that glory was being directed at me. After all, most people broadcast what they are giving up for Lent. Why is that? All of these questions led me to suspend the adherence to this tradition until I could figure it out for myself.
What I have discovered is that Lent can and should be a catalyst for better behavior. But not the kind that pertains to what we eat and drink and watch. What if we gave up pride, envy, jealousy, lust, dishonesty, disrespect towards our spouse, selfishness, negativity, gossip, complaining, laziness, a judgmental attitude towards the less fortunate, being stingy with "our" money, gluttony, and all other forms of conduct that offend God? And what if, after those 40 days and nights, our relationships had improved even one iota, we continued in the converse of these: love, joy, peace, patience, longsuffering, kindness, self-control, goodness, faithfulness...
What if?
So these are some of the things going on in my mind and heart right now. A bit too long for a status update. Too heavy for a note. Possibly too uncomfortable for some. But I will be sharing in the future what I think about the comforts we share in American Christianity. Above all, I want God to click the "Like" button on what I have to say, but please feel free to comment with disagreement or agreement at any time.
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