Romance begins with soft hearts. Hand holding. Cuddling. We have pet names for each other. We apologize, take the blame, and share the chores. But let a few years pass, a few babies come, and cardiac calcification sets in.
There is a disagreement. He sits on one side of the couch and she on the other. He's thinking, I'm not going to apologize. Not me. She's thinking, If he believes I'm going to admit my mistake, he's smoking something.
This is a crossroads moment. Will one take the high road and honor the vow? Or will both love pride more than the other person and grumble, "I'm going to make this hurt"? Sometimes one of the two hearts softens. But one is not enough. Marriage depends on two tender hearts.
Hard hearts can't support a marriage. Eventually one of the hard-hearted spouses meets a kind associate or neighbor, and adultery knocks on the door. To prevent this, God builds a moat around the home. "I hate divorce!" he announced (Mal 2:16). It hurts children. It makes a mockery out of marriage. It breaks the backbone of society. God hates divorce.
But God loves his children. And he knows there is a hard-hearted streak in all of us. So what does God do? How does he accommodate the hard-heartedness of people? Destroy them with lightning? Wink and look away as if to say, "Everyone messes up"?
No, he protects the tenderhearted. And he makes it possible for the hard-hearted to repent and start over.
Mark it down, however: Divorce is not his will. A tenderhearted marriage is.
By: Max Lucado
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.