Confessions

In just a few months, I will be getting married. This man that God has brought into my life will take my hand and I will take his name. My grateful heart feels the exquisite joy of such a precious gift, this godly man who continuously adores me and tenderly cares for me, the overflowing love I am abundantly free to feel and show. I want to spend my life growing with him, cultivating our love, excluding anything that tries to come between us, and learning everyday the new wonders that consummate love can bring.

There’s a deep fear in my heart, a feeling of inadequacy rising up and squeezing my throat. I wonder if I can love him like he deserves, if when things get tough, I will make the choice to honor him anyway. I’m afraid that my selfishness will take over, that I’ll hold on to old habits, rolling my eyes at annoyances, disregarding his feelings. I’m afraid that I will fail him, and myself by allowing destructive voices to speak, by giving room to negativity.

I’m terrified that unspoken words will gain power and begin to erode what I so desperately want to protect. That resentments will build, that scripts from our pasts will demand rehearsal. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough, not whole enough to be all I want to be. That I will damage him by making petty complaints to friends, or slight him with careless humor, or push him away with the protective walls I’ve worked so hard to tear down. I don’t want to fail here. I don’t want to ruin this.

God whispers to me, telling me that perfect love casts out fear. That this love He has given is patient and kind and healing. That His never failing strength is made perfect in my always present weakness. That He has me safe and secure in His arms and that nothing can separate me from His love. He tells me that He is bigger than my fears.

But I know my past, and I know that my new husband and I will make mistakes. I know that we will fail each other. And what I fear is that we will allow those failures to erode the priceless intimacy we have created.

We’ve found such acceptance in each other’s arms, such honesty and love. We have witnessed each other’s struggles with these human bonds, with scars and wounds that want attention. We have heard the stories of betrayals and heartaches from our pasts. And yet, we’ve been given this time where positive illusions have wrapped us in a cocoon of safety. We have listened attentively and felt the inexplicable sorrow of one another. Validation has been offered with passionate gifts of connection and the joy and vulnerability of being known so fully.

What happens if that stops? What happens when the betrayals are to one another and the heartaches are crashing in our safe place? What happens when we’re too busy to hear, to see? When daily life whittles down the energy it takes to love attentively?

Is it possible to preserve what we’ve found, to continue welcoming God between us in prayer and worship so that He can hold us in the safety of His abiding love? Are we capable of stepping back when things get rough and making conscious choices to love anyway? To accept in spite of the disappointments? To honor regardless of frustration? To offer ourselves no matter the risks, to love no matter the costs?