Unexpected Expectations

The marriage counseling is under way. I'm not quite sure what I thought we would be doing. Maybe Doug and Julie were going to tell us what being married means, what problems we'll face (and how to solve all of them), and answer any questions we might have but hadn't mentioned. That is not what is going on, though. One of the biggest things that we are doing is realizing what each other thinks about our marriage and, interestingly enough, what we expect out of it. This idea of what we expect, both from marriage itself and from each other, seems to be a central issue, and one I didn't realize was so important.

But how does one go about realizing one's expectations? As introspective as I am, I am still at a loss when it comes to knowing what I secretly expect in marriage. I am trying to see what my picture of out future looks like, and break it down into the things that must happen for it to look that way. Perhaps this is not a helpful thought experiment, but I am running low on ideas.

It is interesting to realize the things you just figure everyone does. The way they sleep, the kind of toilet paper they use, how they do budgets... it's amazing. Rest assured, the way you do things is not the way everyone else does. Doesn't matter if Newsweek says they do, trust me. They don't. And that's ok.

I think one of the best things about getting married is it forces you (and by you I mean me) to be open to compromise. In order to get along with the way your future spouse does things, you both have to be willing to say "my way is not the way things ought to be. We need to figure out what our way is." It's a sort of humility, really; as any of you that know me can attest, I can always use a dose of that.

As an example: I have a tendency, when I feel I have knowledge to contribute to a conversation, to explain and prove what I have to say. In my mind, this is merely due to the fact that I have to justify telling other people things that they don't automatically accept. Similarly, if someone says something I don't automatically accept, I expect them to offer a case for it; in my mind, I figure they intended to anyway, and it is respectful of me to give them a hearing. I've had it brought to my attention that what actually happens is I assert things, and if people disagree I act like a jerk. And when I expect people to prove themselves all the time, I make a bit of an ass of myself. First, I would like to apologize. Second, I am now planning to make an effort to avoid this, as it is completely contrary to the kind of person I want to be.

A lifetime of seeing myself through the eyes of another: this could be very, very good.

Paschal Homily: Glorious Imperfections

I feel compelled to speak for a moment on something in the Resurrection which is most peculiar. It is seen quite graphically in the body of our risen Lord, yet is passed over in the gospel writers as almost unremarkable. Yet I believe for that part of Christ's body which lives in this 21st century America, we cannot afford to let our eyes miss the fact that Jesus' frame bears all the scars and signs of torture which he built up in his earthly mission.

I think we tend to forget just how grotesque and earthy our holy religion is. Our heritage of symbolism lies in the slaying of rams and bulls, splattering their blood over an altar and burning the carcass to ashes. Does it occur to any of us just what we are really saying when we happily sing "He who washed us with his blood..."? That is gross. Or have we considered that whenever we take the bread of Communion, we are proclaiming through visible illustration to all that Jesus of Nazareth's flesh was torn, in public display, and that we are united to that unappetizing historical reality, just as surely as the digested bread becomes part of our sinew? I think we might find ourselves more gentle towards unbelieving ears if, when we say "Christ died for sinners," we pause to consider the strangeness of what we are commanding them to believe.

But I digress from my main point. Christ Jesus, Risen King of Creation, has holes through his wrists, and in his side. I dare suppose that he has marks on his forhead from the thorns and stripes on his back from the scourge. He has broken death itself, his body is certainly unlike his mortal flesh as it passes through earthly matter, and his disciples did not even recognize him at first, yet the Man of God's choosing still bears every scar from his laboring life. This makes me think of the implications regarding our bodily resurrection.

A perfect, glorious body will still have marks of "imperfection." As Christ endured trials, so shall his people, and as Christ bears the signs of his trial in eternity, so shall we. And yet Christ is beautiful. We shall be beautiful. We shall be scarred, and beautiful. The resurrection of Jesus Christ casts our common body images to the wind. The next time you look at the mark you don't like about yourself, or you see a scar on your spouse's body, stop for a moment and realize the truth--by the risen Son of God, this sign of inadequacy will be made a part of eternal holiness and beauty, and of the spotless Bride presented to Him on his long awaited wedding day.

What happens to us in this life--emotionally, spiritually, physically--it all matters, and causes lasting injuries of all kinds. But in Jesus, these wounds become mere scars, memories of how much He has redeemed us. And the brokenness we expect from scars will be overthrown because He is risen. He is risen indeed.

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After watching the movie V for Vendetta, I am reminded yet again of something that I have noticed among women: they like dark, broody men. Whether it is an operatic murderer or a masked anarchist, there is something attractive about the bad boys. Is it that their charm and sophistication? Or their visceral passions? Or the fact that they seem to unite the two? I am at a loss. Women seem to want a cultured, sensitive type one the one hand, and a violent man of action on the other. Those don't go together very well, except in movies of course.

Maybe it is because these men are damaged goods. Every girl has a nurturing instinct, and emotionally damaged men seem to be natural targets for this desire. Is that why women write to prisoners so much? Do women think they can fix these men? Then again, it could just be a matter of wanting to let go, to walk on the wild side. These are men you would never take home to meet your parents. The rebelliousness of it all must have some appeal, too.

In the end, I think it may be that women just want men who are men, neither boys nor brutes. Men have to be assertive, leading, willing to take charge and enjoy (or endure) the consequences of their choices. Boys don't do that. But a man also has to act in the best interest of those in his care, laboring and dying for his bride and his God, and not just to satisfy desires and appetites.

If I am going to be a wise husband and godly man, I will have to learn to balance. But how does a boy learn to lead, and how does a boor learn to love?