A Marriage Testimony

We had been fighting for months.

This time, it had escalated further than ever before—threats of divorce, the kind of words you say in anger but still sting even after they leave your mouth.

Emily had stormed outside, sitting in the car with the engine running. I stood by her window, realizing in that moment that if she drove away, she might not come back. Our marriage, barely two and a half years old, could be over just like that.

“I remember being frustrated,” Emily said later. “Just tired of all the fighting and being at odds with you, being on different pages.”

“I think I realized in that moment,” I said, “if you drive off, that might be it. I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.”

But it hadn’t started this way. We wanted to live out biblical roles. We wanted a family. We dreamed of having a busload of kids, even joking about getting an actual bus to fill with children. “We wanted to raise a family and serve the Lord,” I said. “That was our heart’s desire.”

Yet somewhere along the way, we drifted...

Our story started in the 90s—JNCO jeans, MTV, wallet chains, and grunge music.

“I would come home from school and watch MTV for hours,” Emily recalled. “Then after dinner, I’d turn it back on and watch some more.”

“There was NSYNC and Stone Temple Pilots playing on the radio,” I said. “Culture was obsessed with love stories, and we were no exception. Seemed like every song, every movie was about romance.”

We met in 1998 at a Bible study in Emily’s neighborhood. A Christian family had seen the need for outreach and invited a young man to come lead a study. That young man was my friend, and I tagged along. Eventually, I took over leading the Bible study.

“My friend told me there was great food and hot guys,” Emily said, laughing. “So I came the next week.”

I wasn’t thinking about romance. “I had just become a Christian,” I explained. “I had been an atheist, immoral, a real wicked guy. God had mercy on me and called me to Himself. At that point in my life, all I cared about was wrestling, street preaching, and leading Bible studies.”

“I remember thinking you were so intense,” Emily said. “You had this big vision for serving God, and I had never met anyone like that before.”

We had no grand love-at-first-sight moment. “It just wasn’t on the radar,” I said. “At least not at first.”

Our relationship grew through letters and long-distance phone calls. I lived in Indiana, and Emily lived in Ohio. Calling her from Indiana was long-distance, but if I drove across the river to Kentucky, I could use a payphone for just 35 cents to talk as long as I wanted.

“So, that’s what I did,” I said. “Parked my truck in Kentucky and talked to Emily for hours.”

Emily laughed. “I just keep thinking about all the times you called and I wasn’t home. And you were just standing there at that payphone.”

“It was tragic,” I said. “I’d call a couple of times, wait ten minutes, call again. Then I’d drive back home, defeated.”

One night after a Bible study, I walked Emily home. “At the gate to her house, I told her I liked her,” I said. “But I also told her that I felt called to ministry. ‘That probably means we’ll be poor,’ I told her. ‘And I’ll probably be hated.’”

Emily smiled. “I remember thinking, He likes me!”

To my surprise, she agreed to get to know me more.

Four years of dating followed. “It wasn’t easy,” Emily said. “We were young, full of passion, and trying to do things the right way.”

“We never had sex before marriage,” I added. “But it was a battle. I wouldn’t recommend a four-year courtship to anyone—it’s too long, too hard.”

We entered marriage with high hopes, expecting to start our family right away. But life didn’t go as planned.

Three major things pulled us apart:

Careerism Took Over – “One of the stipulations for our marriage was that I’d finish college first,” Emily said. “At first, I just wanted the degree. But by the end, I was considering getting my master’s and becoming a professor.”

I Lost My Calling – “I wanted to be a pastor,” I said. “But the church we were at pressured me into becoming someone I wasn’t—soft-spoken, agreeable, a ‘nice guy.’ That wasn’t me. I lost my zeal. I started thinking maybe I’d just get a PhD and teach history instead.”

Emily nodded. “I lost respect for you,” she admitted. “You weren’t the bold, fiery person I fell in love with.”

We Delayed Having Children – “We had student loans,” Emily said. “We were told to ‘enjoy being married first.’ And I started feeling pulled toward careerism.”

I sighed. “I kept saying, ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ thinking I was respecting her choice. But I was really just being passive.”

Emily looked away. “I started feeling depressed. I wanted children, but I was scared. And I didn’t know why.”

We drifted apart until that night—when she sat in the car, ready to leave.

Three things saved our marriage that night:

We Remembered Our Love – “As we talked, we realized we still loved each other,” I said. “We had been best friends. The fighting wasn’t the foundation of our marriage—our friendship was.”

We Remembered Our Vows – “When you reminded me that we made vows before God, it hit me,” Emily said. “We promised ‘for better or worse.’ We couldn’t just walk away.”

We Chose Life – “We had abandoned our dream of having children, and it was killing us,” I said. “That night, we repented.”

“I stopped taking birth control,” Emily said. “A few months later, I was pregnant with Hudson.”

Hudson is now a young man—our oldest of eight children. “It’s staggering to think,” I said. “If we hadn’t worked through that crisis, those eight souls wouldn’t exist.”

Looking back, our marriage was rescued by God’s grace.

The desert of bitterness and aimlessness became an oasis of life and love.

“I love coming home to you,” I said. “Our house is a shelter from the storm.”

Emily smiled. “I love hanging out with you. I love hearing your stories. I love your text messages.”

“That’s a miracle,” I said. “Because it wasn’t always this way. We had a rough middle.”

“But God answered our prayers,” Emily added. “We prayed for children. We prayed for a church. And He answered.”

I nodded. “Wherever you are, whatever you’re facing—God’s grace is enough.”