Puzzles and Marriage

Marriage, like all of creation, exists ultimately for the glory of God. But in this life, its secondary purpose is the creation of a household. Not just a house—a household. A household isn’t just a building—it’s the cumulative output of everything that flows from the marriage covenant: the children, the property, the traditions, the labor, the influence, the culture. That’s the earthly goal of marriage. And, like all things done in faith, it bears heavenly fruit.

This stands in direct contrast to the modern, romanticized, consumer version of marriage. Too many treat it like a vending machine: put in your commitment, press the button, and expect it to spit out happiness and fulfillment. And when it doesn’t? When the other person fails to “complete you”? That’s when the language of “irreconcilable differences” comes out. Most of the time, that’s just code for two selfish people trying to milk each other dry and resenting what’s left.

But biblical marriage isn’t built on taking. It’s built on joining. It’s about covenant. It’s about mission. It’s about building something together—a household under God. Companionship in marriage isn’t just emotional closeness or being best friends—though that’s part of it. It’s shared direction. Shared labor. Shared faith.

Marriage is meant to have oneness—a singleness of purpose. Not just physical union, but direction, effort, and mission. When I sit down with couples on the edge of divorce, I’ll often ask: “What do you do together besides sex?” Nine times out of ten, the answer is passive. “We watch shows.” “We stream stuff.” In other words, they consume. They don’t build anything together.

One of the best ways to future-proof your marriage is to develop habits of shared work and shared play. Fix something around the house. Raise backyard chickens. Serve in a church ministry together. Learn a new skill. Take a dance class. Do a project. Work side-by-side.

Emily and I started doing puzzles together over the last year. It’s a small thing, but even that becomes a picture of our marriage—side-by-side, working in sync toward something outside of us. A shared mission, even in miniature.

I’ll never forget what we did when we were digging our way out of debt. Emily printed out a chart for each debt—credit cards, loans, all of it—and taped them to the wall of our bedroom. We had to use our room because we squeeze us and six kids into a two bedroom apartment. As we paid them off, we’d color in each chart like a kid with a crayon. It wasn’t glamorous. But it gave clarity and focus to the goal. It reminded us that we were pulling the plow together.

So here’s the question: what are you doing together? Not just sitting in the same room—but sweating, striving, creating something outside yourselves. That’s what shapes companionship. The little things add up. That's what builds the kind of oneness that lasts.