# 2 - I Give Up

by James Baker

When it comes to romance, we like to toss around a lot of scientific metaphors.  “Opposites attract.”  “They just didn’t have any chemistry.”  “He has a magnetic personality.” “I’m really digging her Pythagorean Theorem.”  When I was courting my wife, Susan, we ‘grew on each other’.  Our wedding night was ‘steamy’.  But pretty shortly...well, like very shortly – like day three of the honeymoon, a new formula began to emerge.  Something like:

1 part low-self-esteem-and-highly-emotional wife

+

1 part low-self-esteem-and-highly-insensitive husband

=

bad marriage

You hear about marriages where people have just grown apart through the years.  Well, Susan and I were fortunate.  There wasn’t going to be years for us to grow apart.  We were blowing up seemingly in a matter of days.  I still don’t exactly know how to define the problem, but what I do know is that we were both miserable.  Innocent misunderstandings became monumental grievances, and hairline fractures turned into deep chasms.  There was constant tension; hurt feelings and bruised egos were the norm.  The little personality quirks that were so cute and innocuous only weeks before were now grotesque and grounds for annulment.

Through all of this, I kept towing the company line.  “Don’t worry”, I’d say, “it’s not as bad as it seems”.  Because that’s what I thought being a spiritual leader meant.  I viewed my role as making sure we were staying the course, ignoring danger signs, and pretending like everything was in order.  But the more I did this, the more it all seemed like a lie:  our premarital counseling, the wedding vows, the Young Life ministry we were leading, the quaintly framed ‘As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord’ that hung neatly in our 200 square foot 1-bedroom apartment…it was all a sham.  Before long, we looked at each other with genuine regret.  It was a mistake.  An honest one, to be sure, but still a mistake.  The thought occurred to us, “We’re young.  We have no kids and no estate to haggle over.  This doesn’t have to be messy.  It’s only a slightly more complicated high school breakup.  Let’s chalk it up to a false start, and still give ourselves a chance to find real happiness.”

Within a mere six months, the angry words had settled into a cold silence, and hostility turned to resignation.  As we lay in bed one night, both crying and both tired of fighting, Susan asked me, “What are we going to do?”  Through my own tears, I said, “I have no idea.  I’m out of answers”.  And then we did the unthinkable.

We prayed. 

It was then, and always will be, the most inarticulate, most honest prayer that I have ever uttered.  “God, we give up.  We have no answers.  We are at our end.”  And almost audibly, I felt God say, “Exactly.  You have nothing to offer to this marriage.  You are broken.  You are misfits that are unfit even for each other.  You cannot fix this.  Oh, and by the way, you are now exactly at the place that I want you.”

I can only point to a few genuine milestones in my life; points at which things drastically turned.  This was one of them.  That night marked a new beginning –  a night of surrender and healing; a night when hope actually meant something.  Though I don’t remember the date, that night was more memorable than my wedding day, because that was the night my marriage truly began.

That was sixteen years ago.  Today, if you look closely, you’d be able to find trace amounts of the low self-esteem and insensitivity that I had entering into my marriage (and by trace, I mean lots).  You’d see that Su still struggles with her own insecurities.  But what you’d be most struck with, is that through all of that, we have a fierce love for each other.  A love that’s survived the minefields of our own depravity.  A love that should have never made it.

When we think of victories in life, we are struck with imagery of conquering some great evil, or emerging from the battlefield brimming with courage.  We imagine ourselves steeled against enemy forces, weathering the worst but winning the day with nothing but a little spunk and five smooth stones.  The greatest battle I’m likely to ever have on this earth – the fight to save my marriage – wasn’t done with skill, cunning, or bravado.  There was no storming the gates with reckless determination.  There was no eloquent speech.  I merely waved the white flag.  I gave up.  And I won her back.

Surrendering to the enemy is one thing, and it's really pretty easy.  Yielding to the Lord is another thing entirely, and one of the most difficult things you will ever face.  It requires brutal honesty, and an oh-so-humbling admission that you are not as self-sufficient as you would like to think.  Is there some place you need to take a stand?  Or do you just need to give up?

Sometimes, it's the same thing.