As college students, my wife and I broke up once for about a year. When we dated the second time, everything was different. The first two years had been fun but serious, a sort of heavy romance characterized by two things: (1) an effort to seek God together (we prayed on every date, having been prayer partners before we dated) and (2) an effort to avoid the risks lust could place in the path of young Christians years away from marriage. These were worthy goals and established a good foundation.
But after some time apart, we came back together with a different mindset. We still valued those goals, but things were just more fun. We laughed more. We did not take ourselves as seriously. But one day I said something Wendy did not like:
“Hey, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal.”
“I’m not your buddy.”
We eventually reached an understanding. If two people are in love, they should also be FRIENDS. There is a notion that romance exists on some higher plane, that it must be formal or serious, somehow. Think of romantic movies and popular songs. Singers, writers, and movie directors perpetuate the idea that romance is all high drama. That love must be earth-shaking. That the two of you are the prince and princess of the universe and all of creation is holding its breath to watch your story, the most moving, romantic epic there has ever been or ever will be. That’s heavy.
That’s heavy—and it’s also pretty ridiculous. Ask anyone who has been married a few years. It does not take long to discover that marriage, while providing amazing highs and lows, is often pretty routine and ordinary. It’s taking out the trash, cleaning up after each other. Serving each other. Seeing each other in the throws of some horrible illness. Squabbling about the stupidest things. But also laughing about the silliest things. It is laughter, endless laughter. Laughter every day. And conversations. Not just conversations about each other and dreams and hopes for the future and romance, but conversations about news and politics and new curtains and the inside joke that only the two of you will understand.
In other words, love and marriage is another form of FRIENDSHIP. You two are friends. You are more than that, yes. But everything that comes later should be built on a foundation of friendship. On some level, you really are buddies. Pals.
After a dozen lines praising the man’s beauty, the bride in the Song of Solomon says, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem” Song of Solomon 5:16.
May those beloved to you—whether your beloved spouse, your beloved parents or your beloved children—may your beloved also be your friend. Don’t get so caught up in the weight of relationships that you miss the chance to have lighthearted fun. Relationships should be fun. Family should be fun. Laugh more!
God, teach us to love you as your bride, but also to relate to you as a friend. Show us what that means, just as you called Abraham your friend in Isaiah 41:8.
AΩ
Household Words: 