For a guy who didn’t believe in marriage, it’s been a great 30 years.
As a product of the 60’s generation, I was anti-establishment, anti-war, anti-religion, and anti-marriage.
After all, it was just a piece of paper. Who needed it when you could have the benefits without going through the hoops of blood tests, ministers, and commitment?
Nevertheless less, I accepted.
That’s right, Barb proposed to me.
Funny thing about our generation: while we were ‘anti’ on the surface, we were traditional folks on the inside. I wanted some of the commitment I didn’t believe in, and Barb, well, she was footloose and fancy-free. Not the committed type I concluded. I needed to move on.
The very night I intended to tell her to forget it, she was prepared to propose. Seems she had this ‘dream’ about marrying me. She took it seriously—enough to have made the decision before I got there.
The rest is history. We were married on September 18, 1971.
Still, we shunned real commitment. We wrote our own wedding vows, minus the vows. We agreed that if it didn’t work, it didn’t work.
Well, it didn’t work.
The first year—as it is for many—was turbulent. I realized I didn’t have anything to give Barb. Unfortunately, she realized it too. I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say that if it hadn’t been for a professor friend of hers who counseled her to sick it out, Barb and I would have been a statistic. But when she was presented with a choice, Barb chose to stay.
Then it got worse.
You see, I was a true flower child. Not only had I rejected all semblance of normalcy, I also spurned the religion of my parent’s generation. I was an existentialist, a young man without God. Not a good thing to be when your life is in the hole and the only way out is up and the only way up is by God’s gracious hand.
But I wouldn’t have any of it. I had to do it my way.
To make a story shorter, Barb hung with me through two years of rigid eastern religion discipline which deprived her of her marital rights, while I frantically tried getting out of the pit I had dug for myself.
As a last resort I yielded to this person named Jesus Christ.
Suddenly—really—life took on new meaning, and, well, I ‘discovered’ my wife.
One of the first things we did that year was to take the real vows of marriage. You know, “to have and to hold . . . till death do us part.”
That was over fifty-one years, five children, and twelve grandchildren ago.
On our twenty-fifth anniversary we took the vows again. In front of our dearest friends and in the presence of our pastor and God Himself, we tied the know a little tighter.
We did the very same thing on our fiftieth anniversary, tying the know tighter still
The writer of Ecclesiastes teaches, “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken” (4:12).
In other words, it takes God to make a marriage work, to lend it strength, to hold it together. After all, He created it.
If there is proof that God is real—and proofs abound—it is, a least for Barb and me, that He blesses the relationship between a man and a woman who not only make a promise, but rely on Him to keep it.