When "I tried that" is a problem

by Dan Phillips

[NOTE: to avoid having to fiddle with pronouns, I'll use the standard generic "he"/"his"/"him" throughout.]

Hearing a person in a troubled marriage say "I tried _____" raises a red flag of concern to me.

Why? Surely all the person is doing is sharing his frustration, his disappointment, his hurt. It isn't necessarily a claim of self-righteousness, or an attempt to build a case against his wife. He isn't necessarily trying to make me think he's the good guy, and she's the bad evil vixen. Oh, it can be any or all of those things; but not necessarily.


So I will of course start talking about ways to implement what Scripture says to do, and he will say, "I tried that."

And that's a problem.

How? How can "I tried X" a problem? If a doctor said "Take two ibuprofen" or "Have a hot bath," and the patient had already done so without any relief, wouldn't "I tried that" be the perfect answer? Isn't it both honest and diagnostically helpful?

In this case, no. It is helpful, but it is not a good sign. It is helpful, in that I've come to see it often as a clue to how the person approaches marriage, and his role in it.

Here's the reality: as I remarked more times than I can count when teaching on the Biblical doctrine of marriage,

"Marriage is like being a Christian
 — only more so." 

In other words, everything I am called to be as a Christian, I am called to be in my marriage. I am called as a Christian to love, to be patient and longsuffering, to be gracious and kind, to be ready to forgive, to be devoted to serve the other for his good. I'm called to seek to embody these graces towards all.

But in just about every relationship I have, if tension arises, I can walk away. I can go home, I can go to bed, I can get distance from the locus of the tension. For that matter, I could move to the other side of the globe from it. And I'm not called by God to be everyone's close friend. It isn't a moral obligation.

None of which is true with marriage.

With marriage, I have all the same obligations, and more — and it's 24/7/365, it's right up there in my face, and I can't simply walk away if it gets rough.

But go back to other relationships. What is God's command to us, for those relationships? Are we called to "try" loving each other? Then, if it doesn't work, we stop, complain, do something else instead? Are we called to "try" being patient, kind, devoted to their good? How about our relationship with God? Are we to "try" holiness, see if it works for us or not? Righteousness? Faith?

You all know the answer: "Of course not." These aren't methods offered to us on a trial-basis, for us to test-drive and evaluate, then reject or embrace depending on outcome. It's not a negotiation. These attitudes and actions are our lives, as Christians. We're called to grow this fruit, period (Gal. 5:22-23). If Paul could say there is no law against such graces (Gal. 5:23b), he could not say there is no law calling for them. This is what we are called to be, not to "try."

So: God doesn't call me to "try" loving my wife as Christ loved the church as a tactic. He doesn't call me to run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes. He doesn't invite me to see how that whole love-my-wife-like-Christ business works out, then to keep it up or drop it, depending on whether it "works." He doesn't call spouses to try not gossiping and complaining about each other. He doesn't call wives to try being respectful and submissive, any more than He calls children to try honoring their parents — or believing in Christ.

And so I say it is a red flag, because I've found that it often is a symptom. It may indicate that the spouse holds as the paramount value — not glorifying God and enjoying Him forever, but — being treated as he believes he deserves. That is the first and great unwritten commandment. So when his wife doesn't treat him as he deserves, that's wrong. She needs to change. But she doesn't want to. How to get her to change?

Well, he could try various things. He might yell at her. Or he might freeze her out. Or he might ignore her. Or he might talk her down to others.

Or, if he's really pious, he might "try" loving her.

See what I did there? The objective is to get her to behave right. (And, for the record, she should: she should love him and honor him, and do her best to make him glad he's married to her.) In pursuit of that objective, he tries various things. This tactic, that tactic... God's commands might even be among those things he tries — in pursuit of his objective: getting her to treat him right.

So here comes the obvious rub. What if it "doesn't work"? What if she's still a merciless shrew? Well, he tried, you see? It didn't work. So he has to try something else. Like complaining about her to everyone who will listen. Like self-pity. Like growing increasingly bitter and resentful. Like wearing the martyr's robes for everyone to see. Like trying to get kids and friends to see her as he does, see how bad she is and how nobly he suffers.

Suppose, though, he realized that being a Christian who actually practices what he professes — which is, after all, what we're talking about, right? — isn't something you "try." It's something you do, come what may, and God helping you, you don't let all the powers of Hell stop you. Much less a grumpy, sharp-tongued, ungrateful spouse.

What then, when his wife responds to his love with contempt, scorn, or even abuse? What if his coming close to love and serve her just gives her a better and crueller shot at him? What then?

Let me ask you: Does the Bible say anything about how Christians should respond to verbal abuse? To ingratitude? To false accusations? Anything in there at all? Anything? Bueller?

I'll wait for the light-bulbs to finish flashing on.

See, marriage in that regard is not  a different category of life, as if I need to treat other people by unchanging standards, but my wife is different. It isn't as if I have 66 books of direction for all my relationships, but only a few chapters that apply to relating to my wife. She's only different in that she will always be there for me to practice these graces, and I can't walk away if it gets rough.

Because being married is like being a Christian.

Only more so.

And in that life, what gets "tried" is us and our faith (1 Peter 1:7) — not God's commands.

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Don't "try"

by Dan Phillips

I imagine that every pastor (and most Christians) runs into this. Someone is dealing with a significant, longterm issue — depression, marital friction, scary children, what-have-you. The person sketches out his woes in moving, saddening detail, with great feeling and emotion. You listen with compassion.

Then you interact, sharing your concern and care, and communicating God's word. Let's say for the sake of a post's length (which, after all, is not a doctoral dissertation) that the issues involved are fairly clearcut, and directly addressed by Scripture. You bring the Scripture out, you discuss it, you discuss implementation and application.

And either at that moment, or at the next conversation, you hear it: "I tried that."

If you're geek enough, perhaps you silently think...

Of course the green Muppet has a point. I liked the story I heard of the psychologist who, confronted with the "I'll try" response, would throw a $20 bill on the floor and say "Try to pick that up." Point made.

Except that isn't my point.

Here's my point: in a situation such as I've described — and remember, this is my situation; I created it for illustration purposes — the "I've tried" response is very revealing, and not in a happy way.

Walking with God isn't something you try. Loving the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and might is not something you try. Loving your neighbor as yourself isn't something you try. The fear of Yahweh, living in the fear of Yahweh all day, living as in the presence of God, continuing in the word of Christ, abiding in Christ — these aren't things we try.

These are the calls of God on us. They reflect the way the world really is. To have a relationship with God is to go in those directions; not to do so is to live a doomed lie. All of these are facets of the life to which God calls us. They are descriptions of where we are going, where we must be going, if we are in Christ.

What I am afraid the "I tried that" response often reveals is a fundamental misunderstanding of all that. I am afraid it reveals that the person thinks of Christian living as a technique, a means to achieve an end. Particularly, in many of the specifics I have in mind, it is a means to achieve the end of making others treat me in a certain way.

So take the husband with the shrewish, emasculating wife. Say you counsel with him to love his wife as Christ loves the church, regardless of her behavior. Say you open up in Biblical depth and breadth all that means, and you relate it to the Gospel as you should.

Sometime later, he once again begins listing off to you a long and lurid narrative of his wife's crimes and misdemeanors. He goes on and on. The subtext seems to be: she's so awful, I'm so mistreated.

You stop him, and remind him of the call of Scripture on him. The conversation you already had.

"Oh, yeah. I tried that," he says.

Well then. There you go. You see? He thought you were giving him a way to make his wife behave, to make her treat him the way she should. He tried it. She didn't. What now?

That's the misunderstanding, and it's a deep one. As I read the Gospels, as I read 1 Peter, as I read the whole Bible, a Gospel-grounded, Christ-centered life is what we're called to live no matter what anyone else does.

Specifically, as a pastor, preaching the Word is definitional and non-negotiable for me, in fair weather and foul, open ears or itching ears, crowds flooding in or crowds bailing out. It isn't something I "try," and then if my church doesn't get big quickly, I reach around for something else. As a husband, loving my wife as Christ loves the church is definitional and non-negotiable. It isn't something I "try." Ditto my calling as a father, a church-member, a friend.

So, the next time you hear (or say) "I tried that," don't shrug it off. It may be a telling symptom of a major maladjustment in orientation.

We're not called to try. We're called to die, and to live again.

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Candid pastoral thoughts on depression and drugs

by Dan Phillips

As always, I'm going to try to say as much as I can, as briefly as I can.

Man: body and soul. From the Bible I learn that man was created as an embodied soul (Gen. 1—2). He's not a spirit uneasily floating within a body; he's not a body with some higher functions. Being parted from his body is an unnatural and temporary state, which God will ultimately remedy (1 Cor. 15; Rev. 20).

In the meanwhile, here we are, body and soul. Spiritual realities such as guilt and unbelief, as well as faith and hope, produce physical effects (2 Sam. 13:2; Pss. 16:9; 32:3-4; 38:3, 7; 63:1; 119:120), and physical states can effect us spiritually (Pss. 6:2-7; 88:13?). We should humbly admit that there are many mysteries as to the relation of soul and body that we just can't resolve finally. Where is the person, in the body afflicted with

Alzheimers, or laid low in a coma? What is the volitional buy-in when there is what is called a bipolar or autistic pattern? Is it great? Is it nil? Certainty is evasive.

Depression: cause(s) and effect(s). Specifically as to depression, it isn't a single effect with a single cause. Ask David; ask Elijah; ask Jeremiah; ask Spurgeon; ask me. It can grow from unbelief, from exhaustion, from lazy thinking, from persecution, from a dozen, a hundred other causes known and unknown. Professor David Murray, for instance, has recently highlighted some research finding a physical indicator of depression.

Causation gnarliness. However, that said, still — which the chicken, which the egg? Plus, the very splash this story made in part relates to the paucity of such hard evidence (remember: theory, no matter how oft-repeated, is not proof) previously. When I talked to my doctor about the very serious depression I was beginning to experience some decades ago, he told me about the lack of serotonin in my brain, and wanted me to take a pill for it. It turns out that this whole model is (to say the least) not nearly as sure a thing as it is presented.

Now, think about that. Tests determine whether I have blood pressure issues, problems with my heart, lung, brains, nerves, eyes, and on and on. Tests identify the problems, surgery or medicine can address the problems, and tests will disclose whether the conditions are improving or not. With mental issues, emotional issues, behavioral issues? It's not as cut and dried as we're often told by the white coats.

What's depressing me right now is the certainty that, no matter how carefully I'm trying to write, I'm being misunderstood. One group of readers is saying "Aha! Exactly! All those pills and doctors are complete wastes of time! I agree with you!" Another, "I can't believe you're so heartless and ignorant as to banish suffering people back to the Dark Ages. What do you recommend? Leeches, dungeons, beatings?" Neither is a correct reading.

It's...complicated. What I am really saying is that it's complex, it's complicated, and we should proceed with cautious humility. I am saying that stridency of voice is not always an indicator of clarity of evidence. And I'm saying all that to come to this pastoral turn.

Both ways? Not so much. When I counsel people with depression, I find that many have already been to the doctor, and many are already taking medication.

There's a real imbalance in practice, here; a partnership that should be happening but isn't. If a person came to me with serious depression, I would encourage him to get some medical tests to make sure there's not a physical issue. However, I have never yet met one person whose doctor said "There are pills that address some of these symptoms. But since I find no physical cause, I'd like you first to work with your pastor and see if the issue isn't non-physical." Rather, it seems that doctors reach for their prescription-pad faster than James Bond for his Walther PPK.

Altered picture. So in these situations, I start out in a bind. I am, as I said, not opposed in principle to medication. However, it is undeniable that medication changes the equation to some degree, perhaps dramatically. I am dealing with a person who is taking mind-affecting drugs. What he sees and feels is colored, to some degree, by the pills he is taking. NOTE: Truly, I am saying this without the least condemnation of the suffering brother or sister. I simply state a fact.

Some drug is in the picture with which I'm being presented. I have no training in these medications, and have no expertise in dealing with drugs, so... what exactly do I do? How do I proceed?

Are the drugs helping this dear one and me in what we want to accomplish? Or are they hindering? Are they moving us towards a goal, or hiding critical information?

Curing... or masking? Think of it this way: suppose I'm wearing shoes that are far too tight. My feet hurt awfully. I go to the doctor. The doctor wants to help me, he hears I'm in pain. So he prescribes pain medication. I take it, I feel better. And I continue wearing the shoes.

The pills help the pain (that the shoes are causing), but they do other things as well. I'm a bit drowsy, I'm not as sharp-minded. The drug affects my work, it makes driving problematic. And then there's the problem of the law of diminishing effects, as dosage is gradually elevated.

However, the pills were immediately helpful for the pain.

The problem of pain? or of its absence? All of this overlooks the fact that this pain had a purpose, a God-given purpose. The pain was meant to alert me to the problem: my shoes were too tight. The solution was not to address the pain qua pain, but to find the source of the pain. In fact, helping me tolerate the pain — short-circuiting God's flashing red light system — might ultimately cause real damage to my feet.

So this depression... is it a hormonal deficiency? As a pastor, I can't help that by Biblical counseling. Lack of rest? Blood sugar? That's not my area, not my specialty.

But suppose (just suppose! that's all I'm saying) the depression is a result of guilt over sin? or of ignorance of God's truth? or of a faint grip of the truths of God's grace and love and promises? or of lazy unbelief? or of disobedience? These are among the many, many possible causes of depression — not to mention the causeless depression of which Spurgeon wrote. But in all of these cases except perhaps the last, not only will medicating the symptoms away not help, but it will actually retard the process, by hooding God's flashing red light.

Where are we going? And there's more. Invariably, I ask these dear souls what the doctor's end-game is, and invariably they don't know, because he hasn't told them. Does the doctor mean them to take pills the rest of their lives? (Some have already done so for decades.) But then, how can we ever know whether the person is better? One can't stop these medications cold-turkey, that causes its own problems. So where are we going with this, and how do we know when we've gotten there?

In the attempts to bring this post to a close with a useful takeaway, here is a list of questions I'd like anyone to ask his doctor, before he begins taking drugs for depression or such. These should not be combative questions. They aren't meant to be. They should simply help make for an informed patient.

As an added bonus, the answers would be very helpful to the pastor who usually is brought in late in the game.

Ask your doctor:

1. Do you think my problem is a sheerly-physical problem?
2. Is there a test that has shown, or can show, whether my problem is a sheerly-physical problem?
3. How long do you intend me to take these pills? That is, when will I stop?
4. How will we know when I can stop taking these pills?

Even answers to just those four questions would be so helpful in a counseling situation.

After all, I hope we're all agreed to hold three specific stances:

1. Our goal in life is to glorify God to the greatest degree possible (1 Cor. 10:31).
2. We don't want to try to address physical issues spiritually, or vice-versa.
3. While medicine is a gift from God, we don't want to take either more or less personality-affecting medication than is necessary.

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Experience and effective ministry

by Dan Phillips

Someone of whom I think very well once objected to recommending Spurgeon as good for the depressed because Spurgeon was so deeply-acquainted with depression. This worthy brother thought that this made the Word slave to experience, as if to say that Spurgeon's experience made him effective, not the Word.

It was one of those situations where I thought a good brother was right in intent, but wrong in application. For instance, one might hear this commendation of Spurgeon as saying that the same Biblical truth, if spoken by some sunny soul who's never known a moment's depression, is not really true on that person's lips — it will only become true when someone like Spurgeon speaks it. That would be existential nonsense; it would imply that the Word is not really true until we experience it as true, as if its truth and power depends on our experience of its truth and power.

I don't think, however, that this is what folks are saying, when they say they love how Spurgeon speaks to those of us who have known depression.

Think of it analogously to other areas. Suppose you  have a migraine killing your world. Who will capture your confidence, when he recommends a surefire cure? Would it be a man who can faithfully read off the ingredients and the PDR articles on such drugs? Or wouldn't it be a man who says, "My life was being ruined by migraines until I tried this"?

It isn't that the medicine changes, becomes more or less effective, depending on who's describing it. It's the confidence and connection you feel in the person who's commending it to you. A theoretician would have a theoretician's level of acquaintance. He would have been satisfied by a much shallower trial and inquiry.

Just ask yourself: Who  would be likelier to have been driven to make deepest study and trial of a medication? A man to whom migraine pain is a matter of academic interest, or a man whose life is periodically shredded by the condition?

So it is with depression, and other life-issues. If that's your thorn in the flesh, your "bad leg" so to speak, who's likelier to apply salve where you're hurting? In fact, who's likelier to have been driven to find and test the very best remedies? A theoretician, even a really good and good-hearted one? Or someone to whom it was a matter of personal survival, again and again?

You know the answer.

We aren't mere data-banks broadcasting to data-banks. There is something to being able personally to affirm "He restores my soul" (Ps. 23:3), as opposed to "the Bible says God restores souls" and nothing more. The Psalmist says, "Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell what he has done for my soul" (66:16). Being able to echo that call personally is an enhancement to ministry not to be despised.

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Phillips' axioms

by Dan Phillips

When you get old, experienced and opinionated, you build up a stock of axioms. Here are some of mine, for whatever use, ponderance, reflection, passing whimsy, and/or outright theft, you might make of them. They range from the theological to the practical to the political. What use will you make of them? None, maybe. But I've used various of them variously in sermons, conversation, evangelism, counseling, teaching, and writing.

Unlike Biblical Proverbs, they're uninspired. Like Biblical proverbs, the aim is memorable, thought-provoking, stick-in-your-mind brevity.

Strictly, some of these are proverbs or apothegms... but that would make too long a title!

If this list has no interest to you, I'd just ask you graciously to remember what you paid for it.

1. If you ever weren't God, you never will be.
2. When you sin, or say or do something really foolish, you have two choices: repent, forsake, and rectify; or start an endless cycle of doubling-down degradation. Most people do the latter.
3. Don't be the last to know you're wrong.
4. Trolls are thoughtful people. Nail them for what they are, and they immediately prove you right.
5. Pastors who don't pastor aren't pastors, they're lecturers.
6. Anyone who claims to be an apostle today is 'way, 'way too young.
7. Any woman who seeks to lead men in church is eo ipso disqualified—if open rebellion against the Lordship of Christ is still a disqualifier.
8. Folks who are full of themselves don't leave much room for anyone else.
9. Every vote is a vote for the lesser of two evils.
10. Men shouldn't let our eyes rest anywhere our hands shouldn't.
11. Looking may just be looking, but doing starts with a look.
12. Only way to be certain not to forget something is to do it now.
13. Preach like God's watching, like you'll never get another chance, and like every second of your hearers' time is precious.
14. Don't let truth lose by default through your laziness, indifference, cowardice or ignorance.
15. If nobody else has ever seen what you're seeing in the Bible, that's probably because it isn't there.
16. The world is far better at being the world than the church ever could be, so don't even try.
17. Don't be shocked when unbelievers act like unbelievers.
18. Do be shocked when believers act like unbelievers. Especially when it's you.
19. Counsel the person who's there. 
20. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.
21. Excelling at anything is a matter of wisely investing odd moments.
22. Better to know a little truth, and believe it deeply, Than to know a lot, and not.
23. Anyone can be taught — except the dead and the proud.
24. Everyone does what he does because he thinks it will make him happy. (Added 12/5/12)
25. Unhappy complainers are always louder and more insistent than happy people with praises. This works both horizontally and vertically, and is equally a reproach to both categories of people. (Added 1/3/2013)
26. When a man opposing God's truth is destroying his own argument with every word, sometimes it's best to stay out of the way and let him get on with it. (Added 1/18/2013)
27. Kid, life's not a game. Hasty decisions cast long shadows. (Added 4/8/2013)
28. When someone wants to misunderstand, no power on Earth and no amount of explanation can make him understand. (Added 9/26/2013)
29. Everyone in the embrace of a sin dismisses Biblical rebuke by claiming to be misunderstood. (Added 9/27/2013)
30. The problem with the person who thinks he's too strong to be able to join himself in fellowship with imperfect Christians in a local church is that he is actually too weak to sustain it. (Added 9/27/2013)
31. Being married is like being a Christian, only more so. (Added 9/27/2013)
32. Sin is always the problem, never the solution. (Added 9/27/2013)
33. Every time someone tries to be a "'progressive' Christian," (s)he ends up being a whole lot of the one, and not much of the other. (Added 2/24/2014)
34. With stubborn, unrepentant sin, lack of information is rarely the real problem; so pouring in information is rarely the solution. (Added 2/24/2014)
35. God didn't give kids sense. Instead, He gave them parents, told the parents to teach the kids His Word, and told the kids to honor their parents. (Added 4/26/14)
36. If anyone makes you feel better about thumbing your nose at God, that person does not love you. (Added 5/6/14)
37. Arguing X does not necessarily mean that there is a real argument worth making for X. (Added 7/8/14)
38. The hands do what the hands do because the heart is what the heart is. (Added 8/22/14)
39. "Love" should not be defined as the compulsion to force others to subsidize the idle, the immoral, and the illegal. (Added 2/20/15)
40. When one loves God, no reason is a large enough obstacle to prevent us from serving Him. When one does not love God, no excuse is too puny, paltry, or pathetic to keep us from serving Him. (Added 5/11/15)
41. The moral obligation of leading by example is absolute; its efficacy, however, is often grossly, grossly overstated (2 Chron. 27:2). (Added 8/26/15)
42. Racism is not the cure for racism. Only the Cross of Christ is. (Added 2/12/16)
43. Atheists tend to blurt bombastic clichés rather than read, reflect, and respond. (Added 11-7-2017)
44. Big names are often small people. (Added 1-9-2018)
45. Youth, dirt-ignorance and hubris are a deadly combination. (Added 1-9-2018)
46. The mark of a truly big person is how he treats "little people." (Added 1-9-2018)
47. No human authority has the right to command what God forbids, or forbid what God commands. (Added 4-11-18)
48. Obedience isn't a technique. You don't "try" it, to see if it "works." (Added 5-14-2018)
49. {Instant acclaim + massive soapbox} minus {coherent, thought-out, well-grounded, long-demonstrated convictional, Biblical worldview} = disaster. Generally not a matter of if, but when, and how bad. (Cf. 1 Timothy 5:22). (Added 5-14-2018)
50. Sin snowballs. That's its propensity. No sin likes to remain alone. (Added 7-23-2018)
51. You can't make someone see what he doesn't want to see. (Added 5-12-2020)
52. The existential distance between "humiliated" and "humbled" is so much vaster than the lexical distance. Many who are the former, are not the latter — to their destruction. (Added 4-5-2021)
53. Once Pride makes an investment, it will defend it to the death...of everything. (Added 8-2-2021)
54. You can lead a "continuationist" to Scripture, but you can't make him think. (Added 12-15-2022)
55. God is good, but He plays the long game. (Added 2-22-2024)
56. Anyone who will cheat with you will cheat on you. (Added 4-10-2026)

There y'go.

[By the way, there is a companion-post: 25 Things I've Learned. You're welcome!]

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Marriage: the one in the twoness

by Dan Phillips

Last time we busted a couple of marriage myths, one of which was the notion that it takes two to create marital ill health. We should dismember, bury, and forget the distracting lie of the Democratic Causality Myth, and we should take "blunt force trauma" (verbal or otherwise) out of our toolbox and toss it into the Atlantic, to sink down into the darkness forever after Rose's big dumb diamond.

So there are still problems in the marriage. What do we do?

I'll address pastors, but write with the assumption that all other interested parties are reading along. It won't be difficult to adjust and apply.

So here's the dilemma most pastors face most frequently. The person who's talking to you is unlikely to be the cause of the problems. I mean, look — show of hands, brothers: how many of you pastors have had a lady walk into your office and say, "You know, my husband's actually a pretty decent guy — loving, faithful, godly, devoted to me and the kids, hard-working... but I just can't seem to help verbally tearing him down to bloody shreds just about every chance I get. You got something for that?" Or how many men make an appointment to say, "My wife is an amazing lady. She's godly, incredibly competent and wise, treats me with love and respect, terrific mother... but I just like to spend every spare moment sitting around playing video games as if I was a no-account ten-year-old. Got some advice for me?"

No, in those situations, it would likelier be the husband or the wife (respectively) who's in the office, lamenting about the other's behavior. The other person doesn't have a problem — or so she thinks, so he thinks. But they aren't there. So, what's to say to the person who is actually in front of us?

Though conscious that my readership bristles with far wiser and better pastors than I, probably we all agree that the person we need to help is the person who's there. We won't really get anywhere talking at great length about the person who isn't. Right? Of course, if anyone has ideas about how to revolutionize the life of Party B by having a heart-to-heart with Party A, I'd love to hear it. I'll write a book. But meanwhile, on Planet Earth...

Not only can't we "fix" the absent party, we can't even really assess him. Remember Prov. 18:17? The soul before us could be a genuine suffering martyr, or (s)he could be a Suffering Martyr©, if you know what I mean. So whatever (s)he says about the other, we simply are not in a position to adjudicate, most of the time. Therefore, if we approach the time as "Sixty minutes to assign blame," it's likelier to be "Sixty minutes down the drain," isn't it?

What to do? Just this:

Deal with the person in front of you. You have plenty to say to that person. For instance, check this and this and this, just for starters. If you'd just read those thoughtfully, we might be done here. But let me assume that you have, and add just a couple of specifics.

Let's say you're talking to a wife in a troubled marriage. I don't know that there's really any great payoff (for her, for God's glory) in spending much time debating the truth of her complaints. Is there? Wouldn't it work to say something like, "I'm sure you understand, only you and God and your husband was there when that happened. I don't have any personal knowledge. But let's say that everything is exactly 100% as you say it is..."

Then where do you go? First, isn't it the case that most of the things that enrage the wives who come in for help are complaints, and not sins? I'm not saying that complaints don't matter, I'm just saying let's categorize them. She's enraged or frustrated or depressed or distraught because of his communication, his use of his time, his habits — not his frequent acts of murder, his constant adultery, his serial thefts. Right?

Wouldn't it be wisdom then to ask her, "Is this a sin? Do you have a Bible verse telling me this is a sin?" And then, whatever the answer, wouldn't it be wisdom to ask, "Do you know what God tells you to do even when your husband is actually sinning — not just failing to live up to your expectations and preferences, but sinning?"

Then go to 1 Peter 3:1-6. Expound. Discuss. Apply. (I'll have more to say in just a tick.)

Perhaps it isn't the wife. Maybe you're talking to a husband in a troubled marriage. What do you do?

Much the same, only go to 1 Peter 3:6, and then perhaps to Ephesians 5:25ff., and Colossians 3:19.  Expound. Discuss. Apply.

And here's the point, bringing together those passages plus the articles linked above: be sure to point out that none of those passages is conditioned on the other person's behavior.* That is, the apostle never says, "Wives, respect and subordinate yourselves to your husband only when you agree with what he's doing." Nor does he ever say, "Husbands, you must love your wives as Christ loves the church when and only when you find her lovable, submissive and pleasant."

On the contrary, do not all the passages rather assume imperfection in the object loved? Peter does so explicitly; what of Christ in the church? Just think, for a moment, if Christ loved the church only when the church deserved His love — but at all other times He felt free to withdraw in sullen poutiness, or respond in kind? Think, I say, then shudder in horror, and be wiser.

As long as we are married to each other,** we are obligated — personally, individually, each of us — to do all that God says we are to do. He does not condition it on the other's behavior.

That truth is both heavily obligating and freeing. You don't need me to expound how I am obligated by it. But it frees me from trying to decide how to behave, whether to be loving-Christlike-husband guy or fridge-fisted-boxer-guy (verbally or physically). Simple: I'm never called to be fridge-fisted-boxer-guy. I'm always called to be loving-Christlike-husband guy, irrespective of how my wife treats me.

Then you begin to realize that all those verses you thought were out-there are suddenly right-in-here, verses like Matthew 5:9-12, 21-26, 38-48; 7:12; Rom. 13:10-21, and all the rest. They aren't for then. They're for right now, right here, in your marriage.

I know. It's not worldly wisdom. The flesh hates just about every word I've written.

But insofar as it is Biblical, it is wisdom.

---

*Well, you almost could argue that 1 Peter 3:1ff. is an exception, couldn't you — but in the other direction? In other words, Peter doesn't say, "If your husband does this good thing, you must then do that good thing." Rather, he says, "If your husband does this bad thing, you must then do that good thing."

**In this way, once again, I am removing divorce from this entire discussion. We aren't talking about whether and how and when to end a marriage. We're talking about how to think behave within a marriage.

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Two marriage myths, busted

by Dan Phillips

As I continue in my announced intent to share a few bits of Biblical wisdom on marriage, it seems good to start by dispelling a couple of myths. Call me a Biblical "mythbuster."

First: it takes two to create marital problems. No, it doesn't. It only takes one.

It feels embarrassing even to have to say that, it's such a Biblically obvious point — but the notion of necessarily democratically-shared liability is so widespread that some air-clearing is necessary.

I think I'll call this the Democratic Causality Myth. How do I know it's a myth? The same way I know anything really important: the Bible. Didn't you read 1 Peter 2:19-20?

For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly.  20 For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God.

There you go: it is possible to suffer, not only in spite of doing good, but precisely for doing good. Peter expressly envisions a relationship where Party A causes suffering to Party B, and the latter not only did not "have it coming to him," but was specifically doing what he ought to be doing.

Peter's not done with that theme. Note that he says in 3:14a, "even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you are blessed." There it is again: suffering precisely because one had done what was right.

Of course, we could add a heap of Scriptures, and they'd take us back to our Lord Himself, amid the Beatitudes: "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:10).

The assumption that all suffering must be immediately traceable to some specifically causative wrongdoing is simply not Biblical. It is to join hands and nod along with Job's divinely-discredited friends, as they doggedly pursue the etiology of Job's suffering, sure that he'd brought it on himself somehow.

So if we grant this for all of life, is there some force-field that un-trues the truth when it comes to marriage? Is it only in marriage that we must always split blame for suffering 50-50? I'd like to see that logic diagrammed.

Now let me hasten to say (if it isn't too late to "hasten") that the odds are that there never has been a troubled marriage involving one 100% flawless saint and one 100% culpable reprobate. And anyone who was trying to help a troubled couple would be a fool to overlook the wisdom of Prov. 18:17. We sinners being what we are (sinners, and rationalizing ones at that), the odds are that both parties in a struggling marriage have sin-patterns to deal with. You, the person in a troubled marriage, should start with that assumption.

But really — a woman's husband commits adultery. You immediately begin to search for what she did to bring this on herself? On what Biblical warrant? Even if you can find twelve things she did wrong as a wife, does that make his sin of adultery to any degree her fault? A man's wife incessantly tongue-lashes and emasculates him. First thing you do is start listing off his failure as a leader? On what Biblical warrant? Even if you can find twelve things he did wrong as a husband, does that make her sin of verbal assaults to any degree his fault?

Where was I when the Bible was changed (A) to relieve parties of 100% culpability for their own sin, and (B) to empower mere mortals to cause other mortals either to sin or do righteousness?

Let me also hasten to say that if you are in a troubled marriage, and your immediate thought is "Aha! I knew it! This proves I'm in the right!", you're not catching what I'm throwing. What I'm throwing, when we combine it wth the terrifying human capacity for rationalization of the most outrageous sins, is that you should start with the thought that you may be the one in the wrong.

In fact, let me develop that. Let's say a marriage is troubled. (Readers: "A marriage is troubled." Nice.) Let's say the biggest problem is a selfish, lazy man who is in no way a picture of Christ's sacrificial love for His church (Eph. 5:25ff.). You imagine the specifics. Let's say he agrees with his wife that they have a troubled marriage. Let's say she tries to talk to him about his behavior (the porn, the late nights out away from home night after night, whatever).

He retorts "It takes two to tango, honey. We've got problems, that means you've got problems. Let's talk about your problems."

What if she does have problems? What if she doesn't? It doesn't make any difference to his sin. Maybe she's sweeter than a ripe peach. Maybe she's a sour-mouthed, nasty, merciless harridan. What does that have to do with anything? He is contributing sin to the marriage because he is contributing sin to the marriage. Insisting on starting with her behavior, and hiding behind the democratic myth, is a sheer red-herring.

And in case I haven't made this clear, I am writing to you. I am not writing to your spouse. You (and I) need to own your (and my) sin, period, and not race for cover behind the democratic causality myth.

Second: an occasional knock-down, drag-out fight is good for a marriage. This is a great idea... well, apart from that whole thing about it being totally dead-wrong.

The Proverbs book has a long (60+ page) chapter on what Proverbs specifically, and the Bible as a whole, has to say about marriage. I tackle this particular myth in the course of that study. To wit:

Perhaps you have heard the conventional wisdom that fighting is healthy for a marriage, that a little “clearing the air” (by means of a fight) is actually constructive and helpful. I have come to be absolutely convinced that this is a lie, and harmful one at that. A married couple should never fight.

By “fight,” of course, I do not mean “disagree,” nor do I mean have lively discussions nor debates. It is probably not only impossible, but positively undesirable that disagreements never take place in a marriage of two redeemed pilgrims on their way to—but not yet arrived at—the Celestial City. (More on that, later.)

Probably any couple knows when a disagreement becomes a fight. When lines are drawn up, tempers flare, hurtful accusations are hurled, and verbal blows are exchanged, a disagreement has degenerated into a fight. One opponent seeks to defeat the other, at almost any cost. Victory becomes the only goal. (p. 210)

This is followed by a sidebar, "Why Christian couples should never fight each other," Biblically detailing individual sets of reasons why neither husband nor wife should ever participate in a fight with the other. The reasons center around the Biblical description of what it means to married in general, and specifically what it means to be a husband or a wife. You can't be doing what God calls a husband or wife to do, and at the same time give yourself to fighting your spouse.

(And yes, I'm aware that clever minds can come up with valid "what-ifs" ["What if my husband is carrying a vial of deadly virus and intends to wipe out the population of Encino?"] — if a "what-if" that probably accounts for about 0.0001% of actual marital fights constitutes a valid exception.)

So. We can't assume that every marital problem has a 50-50 split. We can't solve our problem by trying to destroy our mate and force him or her to our will by verbal blunt-force trauma.

What should we do?

Next time.

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Marital jollity: thought-provokers

by Dan Phillips

Pastor David Wayne (the Jollyblogger) just shared Ten Things I Think I Think About Marriage and Marriage Counseling. If I'd written it, my dear wife would say it was too long, and (if I'd written it) she'd be right. But I didn't, so....

Some of Pastor Wayne's more memorable assertions, bolding added:

I think I think we focus too much on marriage and work too hard on our marriages to really be of any help.

...But a reading of the New Testament doesn't reflect an overwhelming concern with marriage and the family on the part of it's [sic] author (God!).

...Almost every serious marital conflict I get involved in eventually becomes a contest of wills, and the struggle is over whose "will" will prevail. This is a contest to rule.

...I think I think that we could improve many marriages if we could treat one another as enemies. In fact, I think that in many cases the relationship could improve immeasurably if Christians could elevate their spouse to that of an enemy.

Biblically, the Christian is called to love his/her enemy. According to Matthew 5 the Christian doesn't retaliate against his enemy, gives twice what the enemy asks, works twice as hard for the enemy as the enemy wants and blesses the one who treats them badly.

I'm thinking that if I weren't a Christian I would want to be the enemy of a Christian, because that's a pretty sweet deal relationally.

...In my pre-marital counseling and marriage counseling I try to tell people that there is no special category of counsel called "marital counseling" [ — ] it's all about basic Christian discipleship. This takes me back to my first point where I say we are missing the boat in marriage and marriage counseling.

I hope that whets your appetite. But do note, they're all out of context. Do not comment on Wayne's thoughts until you read the whole!

Now, here's what I think I think about some of what David thinks he thinks.

First, I think his central point is a really good point. Here's how I'd put it: there isn't a marriage failure that isn't also (and more fundamentally) a failure of discipleship, a failure as a Christian. I have thought that more times than I can possibly count, wanted to say, "You don't get this. It isn't simply that you need to be a more faithful husband/wife. You need to be a more faithful Christian. This isn't just about you and Mary/Bob. This is about you and Jesus."

Or, rephrased once again, you cannot legitimately say, "Yeah, I'm not much of a husband — but I'm a spankin' good disciple of Christ!" Nuh-uh.

Second, of course I think one of the ten things David thinks should be the big thing I know I think. I laid it out over two years ago in Pastoral marriage counseling: What if? Don't know whether David ever read it. Hope you do.

In that (among other things), I said:

What if, when the pair began to trade accusations, [the counseling pastor] held up his hand, and said, "Not yet. We can get back to that. What I want you to tell me now is what Jesus Christ means to you. Bob? You first. Then you, Tina."

And then I suggested that the pastor assign some directed Bible study on the nature of marriage and the nature of vows, have the couple bring in their marriage vows, and work from that basis. As Christians who've made sacred, binding, lifelong promises.

That goes right along with what I think David's main point is.

Pastor Wayne's other point (not mine), in my own words, is that we can mess up marriage by focusing on marriage as if it were a special, detached thing, rather than simply a facet of discipleship. It's equally an error to treat it as if it's unrelated, and to treat it as if it's everything. "You shouldn't talk to your husband that way" sometimes is equally "A Christian shouldn't talk to anyone that way"; as "You shouldn't treat your wife like that" sometimes is equally "A Christian shouldn't treat anyone like that."

So David is saying that if we focus on what should be central (loving God with everything, loving our neighbor as ourselves), that itself will improve our marriage.

I would, however, add this — and David can say for himself whether or not he agrees: it isn't pastorally wise to approach a troubled marriage and just say, in effect, "Be better Christians and everything should work out fine." As simplistic as it sounds, there is truth in that... but there's some important truth missing, too.

I think of it as analogous to physical health. Anything I do that's good for my body is also good for my finger, my leg, my heart, my kidneys. But if I develop a problem in one of those areas, I can't and shouldn't just ignore it, saying, "I'm not going to be distracted from doing what's good for my body, and throw my focus off onto something peripheral." When some part of my body suffers, I need to do something for that part, because it is a part of the whole.

Now it may turn out that B really is affected by neglect of A. Maybe I'm having kidney stones because I never drink enough water. So I need to drink more water. That would be good for my whole body, and especially for my kidneys. But, while I'm having kidney stones, maybe I need pain meds, or maybe I'll even need some sort of surgery.

HSAT, it's always good to be reminded: God's goal should be our goal, and His stated goal is that Jesus Christ come to have first place in all things (Colossians 1:18).

Including our marriages.

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Jesus' "dumb question" that wasn't (and isn't)

by Dan Phillips

Did Jesus ever ask a dumb question?

Given that everyone wants on the Jesus bandwagon, it's hard to picture anyone answering "Yes, you betcha: Jesus asked all sorts of dumb questions." Folks of every worldview enthuse about how wise and how wonderful Jesus was. "Dumb" isn't on the list of customary adjectives from thoughtful observers.

Yet surely I'm not the only one who raised an eyebrow the first time this verse came into focus:

When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be healed?"
(John 5:6)

You know who we're talking about. This was a disabled man in a society not particularly accommodating to the crippled — no handicapped parking, special doors, ramps, legal employment protections.

The man had been disabled in some way, unable to walk — and not for a week, a month, or a year. Not for a decade, or two decades, or even three. He had been crippled for nearly four decades, for thirty-eight years (v. 5).

We don't know whether his condition was static or progressive. We do know that he had been this bad for a long time. And we know that, at this point, if no one moved him, he didn't move much (v. 7). Most of the time, he seemingly had no one to help him.

How did he spend his time? What was his life? What were his days like? What were his hopes or aspirations, his fears or regrets? We're left to speculate, except for this: when we find him, he's simply hanging around a bunch of people just like him — helpless, and just next-door to hopeless.

He's apparently got some notion about getting into the pool...but what a cruel hope even that seems to have been: to get the most help, you had to need it the least!

So Jesus comes up, and what does He say to the man? Well, what would you have said, or what would I have said? Would we have even noticed him, as we strolled by on our strong, healthy legs with our little group of equally-mobile friends?

Jesus does notice the man, and He walks up to him, and He speaks to him. Oh, but what He says! I mean, honestly — isn't it about the last thing you'd have thought to say, unless you lost your mind for a moment? And (be honest), if you didn't know who was talking, and what was going to happen, wouldn't you say that about the dumbest thing to say to this man would have to have been —

"Do you wish to become well?"

Yet that's exactly how the Greek has it: are you willing — do you desire, do you wish— to become healthy (θέλεις ὑγιὴς γενέσθαι;)?

Now, I don't believe Jesus ever asked a stupid question in His life. Not when He was twelve (Luke 2:44-47), and not now that He's a grown man. On the contrary, I've often thought what a searching, probing, apposite, and divinely-wise question this was. As a result, I've wondered the same thing myself betimes, wanted to ask the same of some others in different "binds."

(Note: what I am about to say can be easily misunderstood, particularly by those wishing to do so. I shall try to speak precisely and with care.)

Much as you and I might recoil from another's state in life, that person might not share our revulsion. One can grow to identify with a condition, to find meaning and individuality and significance in something that of itself offers nothing desirable whatever. Whether it be a natural handicap or a totally different weakness, failing, misery, affliction or sin, we can come to think of ourselves as Noble Sufferers, as Tragic Victims, as Tormented Souls. So (pathetically and unhealthily) rewarding is this identification, that we unknowingly have no real desire to be parted from our badge of uniqueness, our gimmick, our shtick.

This is particularly the case in our American culture, where we have come to prize, seek out, cultivate, and luxuriate in the status of victimhood.

To be clear: I speak not of a healthy, positive God-centered attitude towards a difficult turn of Providence. I speak of an unhealthy and God-dishonoring embrace of an undesirable state or behavior.

Nor am I the first to see this in the passage at hand. Reynolds, in The Pulpit Commentary, thought that Jesus'

question implies a doubt. The man may have got so accustomed to his life of indolence and mendicancy as to regard deliverance from his apparent wretchedness, with all consequent responsibilities of work and energy and self-dependence, as a doubtful blessing. ...There are many who are not anxious for salvation, with all the demands it makes upon the life, with its summons to self-sacrifice and the repression of self-indulgence. There are many religious impostors who prefer tearing open their spiritual wounds to the first passer-by, and hugging their grievance, to being made into robust men upon whom the burden of responsibility will immediately fall.

You see, it's an axiom of human nature that we do what we think works for us. The most maladaptive person, who chooses to careen from one horrid relationship or situation to another, persists in doing so because he is getting something out of it.

And so Jesus asks — not the question you or I would ask, if we spoke to the man at all, but — that question. "Do you wish to become healthy?" Then He heals the man, and He warns him to change his life (v. 14).

Isn't this question just as probing and incisive today as it was when Jesus first posed it? Again, I've thought so time and again.

I've thought it of some folks who identify themselves with a dead-end, road-out sexual passion God condemns, who go on and on about how lamentable their lot is, how grandly they suffer from it. The only object that arouses more passion than, well, their passion, is any person or organization who dares to try to help them find freedom from their vices.

I don't dispute that theirs is a miserable and unhappy lot, and that such temptations are sheer misery. I just wonder, sometimes, of some of them: do they want to become healthy? Do they want freedom? Or would it shatter their cherished identity and threaten their status?

I've also thought it of some folks who make so much of the grays and the gaps and the question-marks, who luxuriate in any uncertainty they can magnify and exaggerate, who work so hard to blunt edges and blur lines, yet strike grand and dramatic poses as great and brave Pioneers of the Void. They invest a lot of energy into convincing us how agonized they are by their doubts and uncertainties — though not with quite the energy with which they scald and upbraid anyone who dares to try to help them find truth, certainty, and assurance.

And so I find myself wondering, of some such: do they want to become healthy? Do they want to know the truth God has revealed? Or would it ruin the image they've crafted so carefully, spoil their cherished public image, lose valued associations?

Similarly, I think of a woman in a church I pastored. She complained bitterly about her husband, what a failure he was as a leader, how passive and unengaged he was. So I took her at her word, befriended her husband, and worked with him. Before long, he began to engage, and to exercise some relatively mild Christian leadership in the home.

Was she happy? It was, after all, what she said she wanted, and offered relief from what she very dramatically claimed to be the source of a lot of misery.

"Happy"? Good heavens, no. She was madder than a wet cat. You see (I came to realize, reluctantly) it messed with her shtick. What she loved was the status her "suffering" gave her, the opportunity to complain and grouse. She had no intention of giving up control. It served her too well. (I've since seen the same phenomenon for husbands with troublesome wives, by the way.)

Now, I think if any of us have as yet felt no singe from this reflection, we've not heard Jesus' question. That proneness to quick temper; to lingering too long over the wine; to clicking on the wrong links; to self-pity; to coldly rebuffing your wife; to belittling or shredding your husband; to faithless depression; to laziness; to selfish indifference; to cursory (or no) Bible reading; to hasty and shallow prayers — you and I lament these and more.

But do we want, do we wish, are we willing to be made healthy?

I'll answer the question with which I began. Jesus never asked a dumb question. This wasn't a dumb question at all.

In fact, it was (and remains) an uncomfortably, confrontively excellent question:

"Do you wish to become well?"

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Helping people: beware category-confusion

by Dan Phillips

Four propositions:

1. There is no therapy for sin
2. Repentance is inappropriate for brokenness
3. Category-confusion / misdiagnosis can be very harmful
4. However, the sin and brokenness can work in tandem
   

Expansion. A wrongheaded, un-Biblical compassion has led to the abandonment, by many, of the categories of sin and repentance. We don't like making people feel guilty — more to the point, people don't like being made to feel guilty! So, rather than speaking of actions as sins, and people as sinners, and urging repentance, many prefer more psychological terms.

So, now, people don't sin; they make mistakes. They aren't sinners; they're broken. They don't need repentance; they need healing, and therapy.

You know what I'm going to say next, don't you? Maybe not.

Truth is, people do make mistakes. People are broken. And people do need healing. But people also sin, are sinners, and need repentance.

Here's where it gets dicey.

The first problem is in correctly diagnosing which is which, so as to point this soul in the right direction. Misdiagnosis can be absolutely disastrous.

Take for instance a woman I met some twenty years ago. She told me she had spent years in a deep, dark depression. She had packed on a lot of weight, and her life had pretty much gone down the toilet.

What do you say, doctor? What is your diagnosis? Sin can cause depression, can't it? Yes, indeed it can (cf. Genesis 4:5-7). So shall we urge this woman to root out the sin in her life, and repent — and, if that doesn't work, tell her she clearly either hasn't confessed all her sin, or hasn't sincerely repented?

In this case, that would have been some serious soul-malpractice. This woman's doctor diagnosed (if I recall correctly) an issue with her thyroid, and prescribed a supplement. The change was dramatic and almost instantaneous. She saw herself in the mirror as for the first time, and completely changed her life. Cause: strictly glandular.

However, suppose someone comes to us with all sorts of physical and emotional symptoms. This person is in physical pain, can't sleep, is plagued with fatigue, free-floating fears and anxieties, and with a sense of impending doom. Physical symptoms... must be physical cause, right? This is clearly a broken person who needs encouragement, medication, affirmation, and assurance. Right?

Except Scripture shows that unconfessed sin can cause symptoms both emotional and physical.

For my life is spent with sorrow, and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my iniquity, and my bones waste away.
(Psalm 31:10)

For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away
through my groaning all day long.
4 For day and night your hand was heavy upon me;
my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah
(Psalm 32:3-4)

What to do?

Treebeard's counsel is good: "Do not be hasty." If you know there is sin in someone's life, then the loving thing to do is point him to the only remedy for sin: the blood of Jesus Christ (Ephesians 1:7; 1 John 1:9).

Counseling will not alleviate the guilt, power, nor dreadful side-effects of sin; therapy will not, medication will not, self-help will not, self-talk will not, positive thinking will not, possibility thinking will not, living our best life now will not, being purpose-driven will not, Jabez' prayer will not — nothing is a sovereign remedy sin except the blood of Jesus Christ, which is applied to us through repentant faith.

In fact, if any of those "remedies" does succeed in dulling the ache and misery of guilt and its accompaniments, then the person is twice as bad-off as he was before. That he can now stick his hand into the flame without feeling pain is not a good thing.

But at the same time, remember that there can be an interplay in the same person. Elijah was very depressed (1 Kings 19:4). Why? I reason from the cure to the cause. God did four things for Elijah, directly and mediated:

1. Got him some food (vv. 5-8)
   
2. Got him some rest (vv. 5-6)
   
3. Gave him some corrective counsel (vv. 9-18)
   
4. Got him some assistance (v. 16b)
   

From this, I reason that Elijah's depression had physical, spiritual, and cognitive elements to it. Dealing with any one aspect, in exclusion to the rest, would not have truly helped him.

What is the practical, perhaps pastoral upshot? Caution, care, and humility are called for. Wisdom is called for. Depression can have any one or five of a dozen causes, easily. Piling guilt on someone who is simply overworked, oppressed, abused, or melancholy, will exacerbate the problem. Equally, affirming and encouraging someone who has rebelled against the Word of God is worse than worthless.

In our culture, too many rely on formula's and quick-fixes. Beware the pastor with 5 "P's" to banish depression. Don't be that pastor. People aren't reducible to snappy formula's. We were created complex, and then sin made us complicated.

"Flee fornication" is not complicated. "Why do I always feel so sad?" can be very complicated. You like being treated as an individual, and not as if you're mass-produced widget? Then do unto others.

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Pastoral marriage counseling: What if?

by Dan Phillips

Some of the hardest, scariest, most dangerous, heart-wrenching work pastors do is marital counseling. (I can hear the Amen's from where I sit.)

The pastor is very much like baseball's relief pitcher. He's not called into action when everything is going great, as a rule. No, the manager waves for him when it's the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, score tied, and the opposition's power-hitter about to approach the plate.

Similarly, couples often come into the study grim-faced, tight-lipped, angry, bringing years of entrenched patterns of behavior, scar tissue, grudges, and angry memories. Bottom of the ninth. Bases loaded. The breathless crowd leans forward.

And ol' Pastor Bud is supposed to fix everything.

So he tries gamely, God help him. Depending on his orientation, maybe he talks about boundaries, or love language; maybe he tries to teach the husband to think and talk more like a woman. He carries some Bible water around, trying to put out this and that fire -- some of them raging, some of them long-smoldering, like the volcanic belly of Mount St. Helens.

But what if he didn't? What if he did something totally different?

What if, when the pair began to trade accusations, he held up his hand, and said, "Not yet. We can get back to that. What I want you to tell me now is what Jesus Christ means to you. Bob? You first. Then you, Tina."

And then for that entire session at least, all they talked about who Jesus is, who Jesus is to them, and what it means to be a Christian. They talk about their total depravity, about the holiness of God; about the person and work of Christ. They talk about how we are saved by sheer grace, through faith alone, in Christ alone. They talk about how the grace of God makes us new creatures, and how the very bread of the new man is the Word of God.

In very personal terms, they talk about how the Christian life is like a syllogism, where the Lordship of Christ is the major premise, and submission to His Lordship the minor, and all that follows is a matter of working out those two premises.

And what if then at the end, the pastor prays, and assigns homework? What if he hands them each a piece of paper with Genesis 2:24, Proverbs 2:17, Malachi 2:14, Colossians 3:18-19, Ephesians 5:21-33, and 1 Peter 3:1-7 on it, and says, "I want you to read these verses, and come back ready to tell me what God says that marriage is, and what God says your role in it is."

Then what if he just talks about that, next time? What if he sticks with the foundation of a Biblical view of marriage as a covenant? And, assuming the husband and wife do a decent job of summarizing their responsibilities, what if he asks, "Now, which of those God-given obligations was conditioned on whether or not your spouse does his or her part?"

Then what if he concludes that session saying, "Bob, Tina, I want you each independently to do a personal Bible study. Come back ready to tell me what the Bible says about vows and promises and oaths."

And then as the stunned couple turns to leave, what if he adds, "Oh, and when you come back next week, bring your wedding vows with you"?

Next time, if they work hard, they come back with verses like Numbers 30:2, Deuteronomy 23:21-23, Psalm 56:12, 61:4, 8, 76:11, Proverbs 20:25, and Ecclesiastes 5:5. They say that God absolutely expects everyone to keep the promises and vows he makes -- even if keeping those vows actually hurts (Psalm 15:4b).

And then, what if he has each one read his and her vows aloud? What if he then asks, "Are any of those vows contrary to the Word of God?"

If the answer is "No," what if he asks, "Which of those vows is conditioned on your spouse keeping his vows?"

And what if those Scriptures, and those vows, then formed the continuing context for the discussion of any and all marital frictions? That is, what if every complaint, every grudge is put in the context, first, of each person's humble submission to the Lordship of Christ, and second, of each person's sole sworn responsibility to keep his wedding vows from the heart?

Would it not be the case that they would normally be left with two categories of issues: (A) relatively trivial matters that can be readily dealt with in Biblical wisdom and grace, or (B) actual sins, which also can readily be dealt with by repentance, or may become objects of church discipline?

One more question. It may be loaded, but I ask sincerely: do you think that any marriage could be other than happy, where both husband and wife are constantly seeking God for grace heartily and individually to keep their wedding vows, and to fulfill His word? Where both are focusing on their own obligation before God, from the heart?

I close with a reflection on this penetrating thought, these powerful words, from C. S. Lewis:

To this someone may reply that he regarded the promise made in church as a mere formality and never intended to keep it. Whom, then, was he trying to deceive when he made it? God? That was really very unwise. Himself? That was not very much wiser. The bride, or bridegroom, or the "in-laws"? That was treacherous. Most often, I think, the couple (or one of them) hoped to deceive the public. They wanted the respectability that is attached to marriage without intending to pay the price: that is, they were imposters, they cheated. If they are still contented cheats, I have nothing to say to them: who would urge the high and hard duty of chastity on the people who have not yet wished to be merely honest? If they have now come to their senses and want to be honest, their promise, already made, constrains them. (Mere Christianity [Macmillan: 1960], p. 97)

Lewis, I believe, specifically had marital fidelity in mind. But why stop there? If one is expected to keep the promise about "forsaking all other," why not also his promise to "love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health," or her promise to "obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health"?

The Christian promised God that he would keep these vows. The Christian led his spouse to believe she could wager her entire life on his personal commitment before God to those sacred vows.

What if Christian married people were actually expected to know, remember, and honor their wedding vows?

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