On December 4, 1976, a man and a woman stood before family and friends. They had entered through different doors—he, with his groomsmen; she, on her daddy’s arm. They had never been so dressed up in their lives, and were unlikely to ever do so again.
The minister addressed the congregation: “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God – and in the face of this company – to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
No one said a word.
At some point, the minister continued, “Do you, David (for that was the name of the man, almost 26) take Ellen (for that was the name of the woman, or rather teenager…not quite 19) to be your wife – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” David answered, and he meant it.
But he hasn’t always lived up to his words, not really. He hasn’t always even done his best. He has broken that vow on countless occasions, and rarely even said he was sorry when he did. His wife has, at times, felt the opposite of his intention that day—felt unloved. She has been full of sadness along the way and he would tell you that he has been one of the main causes. His violence to the vows has been, however, relatively mild. Sins of omission. While he has not always cherished, he most definitely has kept her around, when lesser men would have chosen to do otherwise.
“Do you Ellen take David to be your husband – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she said. I said it, and I meant it. But I haven’t. Not even close. I haven’t done my best to love and comfort. I have dishonored him, dishonored our marriage. Caused him sadness, made things worse. Mine have been more the sins of commission—hurtful sins of thought, word, and deed. I have not always forsaken others, certainly not myself and my own selfishness. And yet, I am still here, kept by the strength of a commitment made long ago, a commitment made strong not by my own will or David’s, but by the grace and according to the will of God himself.
Thirty-four years ago this month, we stated other vows as we exchanged rings. There was special music and candles. We kissed. The minister introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. David Gillette, and we walked down the aisle, this time together. This time, leaving through the same door and out into a new life and world. Two made one. Mr. and Mrs.
Over Thanksgiving I had the pleasure of visiting with a young man at whose own wedding our oldest son had been a groomsman. I remember sitting beside my sister-in-law as we watched the group—so young!—go through the ceremony. At one point I leaned over to her and whispered, “Do you think we should tell them?”
She knew exactly what I meant.
Weddings are wonderful, full of joy and hope and love. We get all dressed up, but truly, metaphorically, we never get that dressed up again. Reality takes over. Bills mount. Children come, and when they come, sometimes they misbehave. Sometimes they get sick. Sometimes they die. Jobs are changed and lost. Houses are rented, bought, sold, repaired, burned to the ground. With every harsh word, there is someone waiting in the wings to make it, it would seem, all better again.
Statistically speaking, about half of all marriages end in divorce, even among Christians. The amazing thing is not that this is true but that it’s only half…a full 100 percent of marriages exist between fallen, imperfect men and fallen, imperfect women. There is not a marriage anywhere, at any time, that does not—or will not—face challenges. That any of us survives is a testimony to God’s awesome keeping power.
Surely it isn’t the words we spoke, or the clothes we wore, or the rings we slipped on slightly trembling fingers. We often forget that in the midst of all the preparations, the flowers and engraved invitations, that God himself was invited to the wedding too. “In his sight.” He has a vested interest in marriage, it being his idea and all. He will, given even the slightest of opportunities, work wonders in the area of beating the odds.
There are a whole bunch of folks who never thought David and I would make it to Anniversary #34, the two of us and our children included. But we did. And, barring tragedy, we will make it to #35 and beyond.
Mind you, it won’t be easy. It won’t ever be easy. Husbands and wives, David and Ellen, and you and your spouses, will break our vows in little ways and big on an annoyingly regular basis. Each break results in a frayed edge to the fabric of marriage, a rip, an unsightly gap, a nasty stain.
Fortunately, God has always been in the mending business. Not every rip in the fabric of a marriage can be restored, certainly, but as long as there is a willingness to look back on those vows, as long as even a whisper of their original meaning remains true, miracles can still happen. Every day.
Permission to reprint with acknowledgment of source.
The minister addressed the congregation: “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God – and in the face of this company – to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
No one said a word.
At some point, the minister continued, “Do you, David (for that was the name of the man, almost 26) take Ellen (for that was the name of the woman, or rather teenager…not quite 19) to be your wife – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” David answered, and he meant it.
But he hasn’t always lived up to his words, not really. He hasn’t always even done his best. He has broken that vow on countless occasions, and rarely even said he was sorry when he did. His wife has, at times, felt the opposite of his intention that day—felt unloved. She has been full of sadness along the way and he would tell you that he has been one of the main causes. His violence to the vows has been, however, relatively mild. Sins of omission. While he has not always cherished, he most definitely has kept her around, when lesser men would have chosen to do otherwise.
“Do you Ellen take David to be your husband – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she said. I said it, and I meant it. But I haven’t. Not even close. I haven’t done my best to love and comfort. I have dishonored him, dishonored our marriage. Caused him sadness, made things worse. Mine have been more the sins of commission—hurtful sins of thought, word, and deed. I have not always forsaken others, certainly not myself and my own selfishness. And yet, I am still here, kept by the strength of a commitment made long ago, a commitment made strong not by my own will or David’s, but by the grace and according to the will of God himself.
Thirty-four years ago this month, we stated other vows as we exchanged rings. There was special music and candles. We kissed. The minister introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. David Gillette, and we walked down the aisle, this time together. This time, leaving through the same door and out into a new life and world. Two made one. Mr. and Mrs.
Over Thanksgiving I had the pleasure of visiting with a young man at whose own wedding our oldest son had been a groomsman. I remember sitting beside my sister-in-law as we watched the group—so young!—go through the ceremony. At one point I leaned over to her and whispered, “Do you think we should tell them?”
She knew exactly what I meant.
Weddings are wonderful, full of joy and hope and love. We get all dressed up, but truly, metaphorically, we never get that dressed up again. Reality takes over. Bills mount. Children come, and when they come, sometimes they misbehave. Sometimes they get sick. Sometimes they die. Jobs are changed and lost. Houses are rented, bought, sold, repaired, burned to the ground. With every harsh word, there is someone waiting in the wings to make it, it would seem, all better again.
Statistically speaking, about half of all marriages end in divorce, even among Christians. The amazing thing is not that this is true but that it’s only half…a full 100 percent of marriages exist between fallen, imperfect men and fallen, imperfect women. There is not a marriage anywhere, at any time, that does not—or will not—face challenges. That any of us survives is a testimony to God’s awesome keeping power.
Surely it isn’t the words we spoke, or the clothes we wore, or the rings we slipped on slightly trembling fingers. We often forget that in the midst of all the preparations, the flowers and engraved invitations, that God himself was invited to the wedding too. “In his sight.” He has a vested interest in marriage, it being his idea and all. He will, given even the slightest of opportunities, work wonders in the area of beating the odds.
There are a whole bunch of folks who never thought David and I would make it to Anniversary #34, the two of us and our children included. But we did. And, barring tragedy, we will make it to #35 and beyond.
Mind you, it won’t be easy. It won’t ever be easy. Husbands and wives, David and Ellen, and you and your spouses, will break our vows in little ways and big on an annoyingly regular basis. Each break results in a frayed edge to the fabric of marriage, a rip, an unsightly gap, a nasty stain.
Fortunately, God has always been in the mending business. Not every rip in the fabric of a marriage can be restored, certainly, but as long as there is a willingness to look back on those vows, as long as even a whisper of their original meaning remains true, miracles can still happen. Every day.
Permission to reprint with acknowledgment of source.
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