What I told my son and his bride at their wedding

I performed the wedding ceremony for my son and his wife last summer. I have never worked so hard in all my life on a talk. Silly, I know. I knew they wouldn’t remember. I knew they had their mind on other things. But I wanted to say what I wanted to say. I wanted to distil all I had learned about marriage down to 20 minutes.

If he had given me 20 hours it would probably have been easy. It was distilling down to the most important things and compressing it to 20 minutes that was a challenge. I rewrote the talk 6 times. Cutting, slashing, slicing, dicing, compressing. Finally I got it down to around 20 minutes.

Here is what I said. Here is how I condensed 20 year of learning about marriage into a 20 minute talk.

As long as we both shall live

I began by congratulating Dawson and Allison for getting there. Occasionally people get cold feet. I heard the story of one such bride that put an ad in the paper that read:

“Wedding dress for sale.
Never used.
Will trade for a .38 caliber pistol.”

Dawson and had shot a wedding the weekend before. (Did I mention we both do wedding photography?) The officiant had led the couple to pronounce the vows this way, “Do you promise to love, honor . . . as long as you both shall love?”

Sounds kind of modern, doesn’t it? By comparison, “as long as we both shall live” sounds kind of old fashioned. Who wants to stay together in a loveless relationship, anyway?

I said to Dawson and Allison that this is not what you are signing up for. This is “As long as you both shall live.” This is, “Tell death do you part.”

What does that other vow really mean, anyway: as long as we both shall love? I promise to love you till I don’t love you anymore? What kind of promise is that?

Here is story of a guy who got it. Idol hopeful Chris Medina

I heard of a woman who made that vow—four times. She married and divorced four men: a banker, a movie star, a preacher and a mortician. Someone asked why she had married a banker, a movie star, a preacher and a mortician. Her reply:

One for the money
Two for the show
Three to get ready and
Four to go

I love the story of the couple that lived this dream. They loved till the end. Late in his life the man is on his death bed. He is lying in bed and . . . Sniff! Sniff! Why, it is chocolate chip cookies! His wife has made him his favorite treat for him to enjoy before he dies.

He flops out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. Because he is so weak, he crawls on hands and knees. Reaching his hand over the plate he is stunned by the “splat!” of a spatula hitting his hand. “Those are for the funeral, you idiot!” Well, maybe not happily married, but married till death do they part.

One more great story. A couple goes to the doctor. After the exam the doctor says he wants to talk to the wife alone. The husband walks out and sits in the waiting room. The doctor speaks to the wife in a serious tone. “Your husband is doing very badly. He might die. There is a lot of research these days about how stress hurts our health and relieving stress can literally save lives. How you treat him might save his life. Here is what I want you to do. I want you to do all the housework. Have a nice meal for him prepared every day when he gets off work. Make love with him every night. Keep the house clean for him. Watch sports with him. Do everything you can to make his life stress-free. Treat him like a king.”

The wife walks out silently and they get in the car. Silence. Finally, about half way home he breaks the silence. “What did the doctor say?”

She starts to cry. “He said you are going to die.”

Maybe not the most loving expression, but at least they made it. Till death do you part.

At any rate, a Christian marriage is about till death do you part. It is a promise to stay married forever. It is a promise made before God and everyone listening that you will not divorce. The promise says, “for better or for worse.” The implication is, it will get worse. It always does. The promise is, “in sickness and in health.” The implication is she might get sick—real sick.

I love this story.

I rise early on this Friday, as I do every day, to prepare coffee and mix a protein shake. The television news plays quietly in the corner. Flossie, my wife, is still asleep.

Sometime after eight, she begins floating out of slumber.  I bring the shake to her bedside, put the straw in her mouth and give her cheek a little pat as she begins to drink. Slowly the liquid recedes.

I sit there holding the glass, thinking about the past eight years. At first, she asked only an occasional incoherent  or irrelevant question; otherwise she was normal. I tried for two years to find out what was wrong. She grew agitated, restless, defensive; she was constantly tired and unable to hold a conversation.

At last, a neurologist diagnosed Alzheimer’s disease. He said he wasn’t sure-but a firm diagnosis could come only from examining brain tissue after death. There was no known cause for this malady. And no known cure.I enrolled her in a day care center for adults. But she kept wandering off the property. We medicated her to keep her calm. Perhaps from receiving too much of one drug, she suffered a violent seizure that left her immeasurably  worse: lethargic, incontinent and unable to speak clearly or care for herself. My anguish gradually became resignation. I gave up any plans of retirement travel, recreation, visits to see the grandchildren-the golden era older people dream about.

The years have passed, and my days have become a routine, demanding, lonely, seemingly without accomplishment  to measure. She has gradually dropped in strength and weight, from 125 pounds to 86. I take some time to work with a support group and to attend church, but the daily needs keep me feeding, bathing, diapering, changing beds, cleaning house, fixing meals, dressing and undressing her, whatever else a nurse and homemaker does, morning to night.

Occasionally, a word bubbles up from the muddled processes of Flossie’s diseased brain. Sometimes relevant, sometimes the name of a family member, or the name of an object. Just a single word.

On this Friday morning, after she finishes her shake, I give her some apple juice, then massage her arms and caress her forehead and cheeks. Most of the time, her eyes are closed, but today she looks up at me, and suddenly her mouth forms four words in a row.

“Do you want me?”

Perfect enunciation, softly spoken. I want to jump for joy.

“Of course I want you, Flossie!” I say, hugging and kissing her.

And so, after months of total silence, she has put together the most sincere question a human being can ask. She speaks, in a way, for people everywhere: those shackled by sin, addiction, hunger, thirst, mental illness, physical pain … frightened, enervated people afraid of the answer but desperate enough to frame the question anyway.

And, Flossie, I can answer you even more specifically. It may be difficult for you to understand what’s happening. That’s why I’m here, to minister God’s love to you, to bring you wholeness, comfort and release. Mine are the hands God uses to do his work, just as he uses others’ hands in other places. In spite of our shortcomings, we strive to make people free, well and happy, blessing them with hope for the future while bringing protein shakes every morning.[1]

That is the promise: till death do you part. In sickness and in health. In good times and bad—and do know there will be some bad times. In poverty and wealth. Most of us have more poverty than wealth, or, at least, it seems to feel that way. Forever.

No exits. No options. No choices. Forever. I love the words of Andrew Peterson’s song:

We went dancing in the minefields
We went sailing in the storm
And it was harder than we dreamed
But I believe that’s what the promise is for

Indeed. That is what the promise is for.

This is not like the mortgage on a house

Marriage is a contract of sorts, but it is not like buying a house. It is not like inking a business deal. It is personal. It is heart. It is emotion. It is a promise to cultivate emotions. It is not mere duty. No wife will ever be satisfied by that.

John Piper tells the imaginary story of coming home on his 24^th anniversary. He rings the doorbell for a little drama. He presents her with 24 long stem roses. He says to her, “Get dressed, sweetie, I have a baby sitter coming. I have reservations at our favorite restaurant and tickets to a show. I have the whole evening set up for us to spend together.”

“Oh, Johnny, they are beautiful! And you got a baby sitter! And reservation for dinner and tickets to the show! Wow! Why did you do this?”

“It is my duty.”

Duty?

She doesn’t want duty. She doesn’t want obligation. She doesn’t want mere commitment. She wants a promise, but she doesn’t want that kind of promise.  That kind of promise ruins the whole thing.

In the world commitment is underrated. In the church, commitment is over rated.

Rewind the tape.

John Piper tells the imaginary story of coming home on his 24^th anniversary. He rings the doorbell for a little drama. He presents her with 24 long stem roses. He says to her, “Get dressed, sweetie, I have baby sitter coming. I have reservations at our favorite restaurant and tickets to a show. I have the whole evening set up for us to spend together.”

“Oh, Johnny, they are beautiful! And you got a baby sitter! And reservation for dinner and tickets to the show! Wow! Why did you do this?”

“I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to. There is nothing I would rather do than spend an evening with you!  There is no one on planet earth I would rather be with than you.”

What are the chances that she will throw down her dish rag and snap at him in exasperation?  “Nothing would make you happier? You? What about me? What about what would make me happy?” There is not a chance in a million she would say that. She is honored in his love for him that is a little bit selfish.

Love at its best is like that. It is a promise, but it is more than a promise. It is a promise with heart. It is a promise that feels something. Love at its best is a little bit selfish.

Love at its best is a little bit selfish

Imagine a boy whose father does not have much time for him. He works long days and late hours. He works weekends and holidays and rarely takes a vacation. One day, on a long road trip, he starts thinking about his own childhood. He fondly remembers going fishing with his dad and it occurs to him that he has never taken his son fishing. He comes home and says to his son, “What do you say we go fishing?”

The son is so excited. They mark down a day about three weeks out and the son starts counting down the days. 21, 20, 19, 18. . . he can hardly wait! His mom takes him to Bass Pro to get some brand new fishing gear. He counts down the days. Two weeks, one week, three days, two days, one day. . . finally, the big day arrives, and the dad comes through. They set the alarm early and head for the hills. They spend the whole glorious day fishing together. No cell phones, no interruptions, no distractions, just father and son on the lake together. Late that night, the father carries the son’s tired body in from the car and places it on the bed. He notices a smile pressing through the sleep.

For years to come the son looked back on that day with fond memories. It was kind of a dark childhood for this boy, in the sense that he did not get a lot of time and attention from his dad. But, on this day, his got his dad’s attention for the whole day. It was like a shaft of light dropping into an otherwise dark childhood.

But, he always wondered what the dad thought of that day. Eventually, the kid grew up and the dad grew old and eventually died. Curiously, painstakingly, the son went through his dad’s diary until he found the entry the dad had made that night after he laid his son in bed.

It read, “Whole day wasted; went fishing with my boy.”

The boy, now grown, collapsed in a pile of tears. What he wanted to find was a love that was a little bit selfish. What he wanted to find was a dad that wanted to be there. He wanted to find a dad that wanted to be there for his own selfish reasons, because he personally, selfishly wanted to spend the day fishing with his boy.

We all want that. We all want someone to selfishly want us. We all want a love that it a little bit selfish.

God loves us in a selfish kind of way. Why did Jesus go to the cross? Did He go to the cross for us? In a way. But, notice the answer to that question in this verse:

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2 [NIV]

The text says, “for the joy set before him.” Question: whose joy? Who are we talking about getting happy here? It is for Jesus’ own joy. For His own joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Jesus imagined it to be so joyful spending eternity with you and me that He put up with the cross so He could enjoy being with us. He loved us in a way that was a little bit selfish.

I want my wife to love me in a way that is a little bit selfish. That is, I want her to selfishly want to be with be. I don’t want her to be with me out of mere obligation. (Although, obligation would be better than her leaving me.) I want her to want to be with me.

Commitment is a good thing. Committed love is a good thing. But, we in the church tend to make too much of commitment as if it is the top level of love. It is not. There is a higher level still–loving the way Jesus’ loved–for the joy set before him. We need to cultivate a heart that is not merely committed, but also selfish