6 Things I've Learned in 6 Years of Marriage

Ok, so really it was 6 years ago on September 5th 2015. It's not just the blog post that's late: Matt and I haven't celebrated yet. BUT, we will! Just not sure when. Anyone interested in flying to Mozambique to watch Cedar and Cypress for a few hours? 

6 Things I've Learned in 6 Years of Marriage:

Us as an engaged couple. This photo was taken in Africa, before we knew we would spend our lives here.

One: I am crazy. This is for real. I had no idea a person could have so many raging emotions locked away just to unleash on a poor unsuspecting husband. Our first year was tough. Looking back, it was beautiful. In the moment, not so much. There were nights when childhood memories plagued me and I was just SURE Matt was going to fail me in every area. In those moments Matt would lay his hand on my head and pray that God would "...re-route the patterns of thought in her mind." I remember this prayer almost word for word because my patient husband prayed them over and over. He also told me he loved me about every five seconds. This drove numerous people crazy, but what they didn't know is that he was trying to make me believe him. 

The night we officially started dating, it was at a Chi Alpha event non the less. 

Two: I can almost always convince myself and even Matt that I won a fight. THIS IS NOT GOOD! I gotta be real--I have done this many, many times. Like 10,000,000,056 times. (If you are able to say that number without thinking about it for a whole minute, you are my brain hero.)

Three: I learned that I don't need Matt. Or anyone for that matter. I don't mean this in the hand-in-your-face, "Boo trick! I don't need you" way. I mean, "no matter what, Jesus is always with me and He really is enough." Is it weird to tell you that I was sitting on the toilet when I came to that conclusion? TMI? I don't think I was actually using it, but I had just locked myself in bathroom during a fight. It was years ago when we lived in a loft apartment and that was the only room with a door. I no longer do that by the way. #progress

Four: I realized that Matt is my forever best friend, and I should treat him as such. Texts, calls, special moments, secret hand shakes...all of it. BFF! 

Five: This one is super serious. I learned how to calm down my happy/chipper/hyperness. Matt is NOT a morning person, and sometimes he's not a night person either. Although he wasn't an only child, he definitely has only-child tendencies. I like to pillow fight, tickle, prank, and I will do said things during all hours of the day. Marriage is not the place for the "do you" mentality. Instead, I try to wait for more appropriate moments to dump ice cold water on him while he is showering; it's the little things that make a marriage blissful. Half of you are thinking, "I would divorce that chick so fast." I know, I'm a mess. 

Six: When we moved to Portugal we had to become deep down real with each other. The moments after a fight went a little like this: "I'm going to go hang out with my friends!!!. Crap, all my friends here speak Portuguese. Wait, I don't have any friends here. NO ONE GETS ME!!!"  That never happened, but we were stuck with each other, and I loved every minute of it. I learned how to intentionally do life with Matt. Each moment is an opportunity for me to fall in love with Matt, just like my relationship with Christ. It was a lesson I needed to learn in two areas of my life. 

For all you unmarried people with future aspirations, don't worry, there are still sweet, romantic moments like we had as newlyweds. But when Matt is tickling a giggling Cedar over and over while I cook dinner, that's when I swoon. When I catch his ear-to-ear smile as students fill our apartment, that's when my heart skips a beat. When I hear his voice echoing off the bathroom walls in worship, that's when I feel safely loved.

Happy 6.5 Years Matthew Lee Marlin! I love you...and your pile of clothes in the corner of our room right now. 

What have been your biggest lessons in marriage? And, if you aren't married, what freaks you out the most about the possibility? Can't wait to learn from what you have to say. 

Thoughts From the End of the World

Someone once said, commenting on the beautiful life of Rich Mullins, that "he was a man that explored the deep places of God, and then came back to tell us all what he saw." Andrea and I recently ventured to the end of the world, "onde a terra se acaba, e o mar começa." (where the land ends, and the sea begins). Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of Europe is a wild place, where ripping winds never cease, and staggering cliffs challenge the daring to step to close. Raw power whips around you from all directions, overwhelming sense, emphasizing frailty. Death and life are separated only by a step, merely a thought. Firm ground is little comfort in such a place. 

Crawling along the edges of that alien world, my gaze was continually drawn to the immeasurable horizon of the sea. I could feel the maritime pull, the desire to be a part of the raw, savage power which defines that realm. Off in the distance, majestically forging order and path through the chaos, a lone vessel tested its merit against the barbarity. A lone island of safety amongst the.... whoops, the necessity of proper foot placement soon overruled any fantastical notions of seagoing adventures. (The dawn treader will have to wait).    

Infinite thoughts inevitably lead to infinite thoughts (Oh so profound). While trying to take in the beauty, and not fall into the sea while doing it, I couldn't get that quote about Rich Mullins out of my head. The sea seems endless, but God is. Is it possible to go too far with God? Could it be that there are parts of God that he hasn't been able share with us? Is it possible to sacrifice too much for God? What does it take? 

Our worship songs are littered with deep phrases such as, "I surrender all," "I need you more... more than the air I breathe," and "you're all I want, you're all I need." We would all most certainly answer with the easy, "we can never go too far with God," and "there is definitely no sacrifice too great for him," but how many of us are willing to pay the price to delve into those depths.     A few of Jesus' friends asked him if they could sit at his right and left in his kingdom, to be close to him, to be significant. What was Jesus' response? "You don't know what you're asking.. can you drink the cup I drink?" Real sacrifice, and absolute commitment were, and are still required.  

God knows something very important; in order for us to be able to step into deeper relationship with him, we ourselves have to change. He's not putting up arbitrary barriers between us and his presence as if our pursuit of him were some cosmic game. No, we have to have eyes to be able to see, hearts to understand. Remember the centurion who asked Jesus to come heal his servant. Jesus was plum content to walk on down to the man's house to heal the servant, live and in person, but that's not what happens. The centurion's eyes were open to be able to see a previously unknown element of the authority and nature of Jesus. He doesn't have to be physically present to heal, his authority and power transcends physical barriers. The centurion's faith allowed this new knowledge to be unlocked for all mankind to experience. We must be changed; we aren't able to properly experience and understand until we do. Lewis puts it like this, "How can [he] meet us face to face till we have faces?" We have to do whatever it takes to get closer to him. Any sacrifice, any change is worth it; any death pales in comparison to the presence of Jesus.

There are many paths that give us more solidity to stand close with Jesus: fasting, prayer, deeper community, consecration, service, vulnerability, scripture study, and the list goes on. But on the edge of that massive expanse of wind, sea, and sky, I realized I could never truly comprehend the sea from detached heights of theory, one step had to be put in front of the other until the impossible is seen with my own eyes, touched with my own hands, until the immersive redefining presence of Jesus gives me weight to be truly human. 

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Here we are, the edge of what we've experienced with God. Far below, the dark depths knock unceasingly on the bare rock cliffs, calling, beckoning. The next step is almost certain death; a plunge into the unknown, raw, untamable power of God. Shall we be defined by the barriers of those who've gone before us? Of what's been known? Or will we stand on their progress, consecrate more, sacrifice more, seek more, experience more? 

What if? God is waiting...

“When all the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, they were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance... while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was.”

— Ex 20