As someone who spent three decades in ministry before becoming a couple’s therapist, I’ve seen marriage from both the pulpit and the counseling chair. I’ve seen the sacred and the silly. I’ve watched couples vow to love “in sickness and in health” and then squabble over the right way to load the dishwasher. I’ve seen couples weather betrayal, bankruptcy, parenting meltdowns, and the mysterious loss of every matching sock. (Seriously, where do they go?) And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing will test your theology faster than marriage. Well, except maybe parenting. Or trying to reset your Wi-Fi while also staying sanctified.
But I digress.
Marriage is often described as a reflection of Christ’s relationship with the Church. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it? But if you’ve ever served in a church, you know that even the Church can be a little messy. And so are we. Jesus doesn’t withhold His love when we fall short. He doesn’t stop showing up when we’re distant, grumpy, critical, or stuck in our own heads. He keeps showing up. He keeps loving. And that’s our blueprint.
When we love our spouse the way Jesus loves us, we’re not just making our homes more peaceful, we’re living out the gospel in real time. Marriage becomes more than a contract or a companionship; it becomes a calling. A ministry. A sacred space where the gospel has flesh and bones, where love gets hands and feet. Not just in the big moments either… the anniversaries, the vow renewals, the Instagram-worthy vacations. Not just in those, but in the ordinary, unseen sacrifices.
And let’s be honest, sometimes love looks incredibly ordinary. It’s not glamorous or poetic. It’s remembering to pick up the prescription your spouse forgot to mention. It’s taking the dog out when it’s raining. It’s being willing to go to bed a little upset, but still reaching out to hold their hand under the covers. These aren’t dramatic moments, but they’re defining ones. Because they quietly whisper, “I’m still here. I’m still choosing you.” And those small, ordinary acts of faithfulness? They’re sacred.
We often imagine grace as a sweeping act of forgiveness or a cinematic reconciliation scene. But more often, grace looks like:
Choosing to ask, “How can I help?” when your own tank is empty.
Holding your tongue when you could win the argument with a perfectly timed zinger.
Saying “I’m sorry” without pulling out your mental highlight reel of why you were justified.
Offering your spouse the benefit of the doubt even when you’re tired of being the one to go first.
Jesus washed feet. You can fold a towel.
One of the biggest shifts I see in couples therapy is when partners stop viewing conflict as a sign of failure and start seeing it as an invitation. Conflict isn’t the enemy. It’s the opportunity. It reveals the places where connection is needed, where healing can happen. It exposes vulnerabilities. Not to shame us, but to guide us toward restoration.
Think of conflict as the smoke that alerts you to a fire. It’s not the problem… it’s the signal. And it gives you a choice: will you reach for water or pour on more gasoline?
God often uses these moments of tension to refine us. And let’s be honest, refining doesn’t usually feel like a massage at a day spa. It feels more like sandpaper - uncomfortable, irritating, and entirely necessary.
We often treat prayer like the emergency glass we break when things go sideways. But what if we invited God into the everyday stuff. I’m talking about the calendar planning, the hard conversations, the parenting stress, and even the late-night debates about what to watch on Netflix?
Pray when you're frustrated. Pray when you're confused. Pray when your spouse is getting on your last nerve and all you want to do is roll your eyes or storm out of the room. Pray for the kind of clarity that doesn’t just help you “win” the argument but helps you understand your spouse’s heart.
And for the record, pray for humor too. Because sometimes the best reset for a tense moment is shared laughter. It’s hard to stay mad when you’re both cracking up over how neither of you can figure out how to program the new thermostat, or how your kid just used peanut butter as hair gel.
One couple I worked with told me they hadn’t laughed together in over a year. The tension had built up so high that even small jokes fell flat. During one session, the wife accidentally spilled her coffee all over her husband’s notes! And for a moment, everything stopped. They locked their eyes, and she waited for him to snap. Instead, he just chuckled and said, “Well, now I guess I’ll never get that grocery list right.” They both started laughing - really laughing for the first time in ages! That tiny moment cracked open the door for reconnection. Sometimes God uses spilled coffee to open our hearts.
We tend to think of ministry as something that happens from a stage or with a microphone. But Jesus? He spent a lot of His time at dinner tables, walking dusty roads, sitting with people in their mess, their shame, their confusion, and their questions.
Marriage is no different. It’s not always glamorous. There are no applause breaks. But in the quiet, repetitive rhythms of married life, whether it’s packing lunches, managing schedules, folding laundry, or resolving the same argument for the 47th time. Ministry is happening. Grace is growing. Love is deepening.
