Judy and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary a month ago. We passed the day quietly—we did a short run in the morning, drove to Goderich for lunch, sat on the beach and read for a bit, then drove to Stratford for dinner. We had ideas earlier on of hosting a big party to celebrate our 40th with friends and family from far and wide, but with the pandemic this wasn’t the year for it. Instead, it was a day for reflection on all that we have passed through over those four decades—the birth of three children, seeing those three children become highly individuated persons of whom we are very proud, watching them find and marry remarkable life partners, having our capacity for love expanded by three exceptional grandchildren, burying three parents, moving five times to four different cities, starting six new jobs (Ed), working at five different hospitals (Judy), investing 10 years in the launch of a new church, watching from a distance two years later as a subsequent leadership team made the decision to close its doors, surviving an incurable illness (Ed), running the Boston Marathon (Judy)… All this joy, all this sorrow (as John Denver sings), all this promise, all this pain, woven together in a shared existence that began on September 27, 1980.
And always, there’s the recognition that we are two highly, highly privileged individuals who have been granted more in our life together than we ever imagined possible. We count even the sorrow and the pain a privilege to have encountered, for we have learned so much from them. As the French philosopher Simone Weil wrote, “The greatness of Christianity comes from the fact that it does not seek a supernatural remedy for suffering, but rather a supernatural use for suffering.”
A few days ago, while rummaging through boxes in a storage closet looking for the negatives for our wedding photos, I came across a cross-stitched wall-hanging (created as a wedding gift by a friend of ours) that hung in our bedroom for many years. The photo in the centre is badly faded (as is my wedding boutonniere which was still attached), but the Scripture text embroidered in the burlap still speaks loud and clear: “Heirs together of the grace of life.” Those words, taken from 1 Peter 3:7, tell us that husbands and wives are to regard each other as equal partners in their enjoyment of God’s gifts. The baseline understanding of marriage for Judy and me is that we are on level footing in this endeavour, “heirs together”. We are heirs because we are beneficiaries of someone else’s generosity—not because we have earned it but because we are children of our Creator. We are heirs together because the gifts we have been given are to be enjoyed in an environment of mutual respect and thoughtful consideration for the other.
The Bible says little about marriage in comparison to what it has to say about the traits of healthy relationships. These characteristics are often called the “one anothers”, because they all contain those two words: “Love another deeply, from the heart.” “Serve one another humbly in love.” “Be patient with each other.” “Make allowance for each other’s faults.” “Encourage each other and build one another up.” These concessions are to be offered reciprocally without keeping record of who’s on top. It’s virtually impossible for any two people—whether it be husband and wife or parent and child or manager and employee or business partners to consistently live up to the standard set by these instructions, but the reiteration of the words “one another” time and time again throughout the New Testament makes it clear that there is no room for power struggles, selfishness, manipulation, domination or abuse within any relationship, let alone a marriage. If there’s one thing that has kept Judy and me together for 40 years, it is that we’ve tried through the years to remember to serve each other and build each other up. This seems to have worked out OK for us—not because we are morally superior but because (as two messed up, broken people) we have somehow managed to maintain a commitment to help each other become better people. We’ve chosen to fight as allies against each other’s brokenness, rather than as enemies because of each other’s brokenness.
We’ve chosen to fight as allies against each other’s brokenness, rather than as enemies because of each other’s brokenness.
Country music and the Bible have some things in common: Both speak often about cheating hearts, revenge, redemption and forgiveness. This post has already included a good measure of Bible, but for the country music perspective I turn to country-folk singer John Prine (may he rest in peace). In the chorus of his song “In Spite of Ourselves“, two lovers celebrate their relationship with these words:
In spite of ourselves
We’ll end up a’sittin’ on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we’re the big door prize
The other lyrics to the song have a certain, shall I say, “Chaucerian ribaldry” to them, but with those words from the chorus Prine has captured the essence of how I feel about my marriage to Judy. We have enjoyed a good measure of success in our relationship in spite of ourselves. Two people, who came together 40 years ago through equal measures of coincidence and careful planning, have against all odds found the big door prize in each other. We are thankful to be bound together as joint heirs and thankful for every gracious gift our life together has brought us.
All text and photos © 2020 Edwin Wilson
