Sermon from June 23, 2002
"What God has joined together, let not man put asunder."

Wedding ceremonies, centering on vows, express sacramentally the divine nature of marriage. "I, Bo, take you, Carole, to be my wedded wife; to have and to hold from this day forward; for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part; so help me, God."

"I, Carole, take you, Bo, to be my wedded husband; to have and to hold from this day forward; for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part; so help me, God."

How long does it take to say those words? Thirty seconds each? From start to finish, with the pastor saying those words phrase by phrase and with perspiring groom and nervous bride repeating them, I doubt that two minutes elapse.

They exchange rings and light a unity candle as further affirmations of those fragile words spoken into the ear of God. The pastor prays, pronounces them husband and wife, reminds them to kiss, introduces them for the first time by their married name, and they walk down the aisle to the music of Purcell or Wagner and into the absolutely unknowable future, which they have promised to share faithfully, come what may, until death calls a halt.

Can we take marriage vows seriously? Can any couple make these vows seriously? The current attitude that we cannot ignore is reflected in the young man who went to his pastor to lament about the woman he had married. The pastor reminded him that he had taken her for better or for worse, and he said, "Yes, but she is so much worse than I took her for." In such an atmostphere how are we to think about binding vows?

We might begin by asking, What is the alternative, if we do not take marriage vows seriously, and couples do not make them serious? A more fundamental question deserves our attention. "Does God take us seriously when we make them, and if so, can we understand why?" Because we are people of the Book, we will look there for authoritative answers. Let's use Jesus' words to guide our thoughts: Mark 10:6-9.

"But at the beginning of creation God 'made them male and female.' 'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate."

The Christian doctrine of marriage is rooted in creation. "But at the beginning of creation God 'made them male and female.'" What God made offers clues to what God intended for what He made. The first clue is that He only made two things, a male and a female. He did not make a third thing. The second clue is that He did not make those two alike; He made them different from each other.

This curious limitation and this even more curious difference imply certain appropriate behavior from the males and females whom He creates. Jesus, quoting the Torah, identifies the appropriate behavior this way: "'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife.'" God made one of each, gave one of each to the other, and indicated that He would like to see that pattern repeated to the end of the ages.

All parents know the indefatigable power of children at the end of a book or a game to say to their parents, "Do it again." If the reading or the play stops, it is not because the child got tired. It may be an indication of the energy of eternal life that God can look at each new couple and say to them, "Do it again," and never get tired of it.

Now, when we say that the union of man and woman in marriage expresses God's intention for marriage, we are making a faith statement. We believe in God the Father, almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and, therefore, we believe that the anatomical design necessary for conception and birth, the mystery of puberty, the mysterious ways of a man with a maid - all come from the wisdom of the Maker of heaven and earth. Because these and other God-created factors bring about what we call marriage, we may properly say that when a man and woman unite, God has joined them together.

The understanding of union goes to another level when Jesus says, "'The two will become one flesh.'" One flesh refers not only to marital relations but also to a new unity of which marital relations are the symbol and seal. When a man and woman unite, they creat something new, as uniting hydrogen and oxygen creates a new element, or a bow and sound box create a violin. Each, by marrying, becomes with the other something that neither could have become alone.

God also intends the joining to be permanent, but human freedom, which is another of God's mysterious gifts, means that man can, but should not, separate what God has joined. As a rule, women, who stand to lose the most socially and economically by divorce, instinctively sense and cherish the permanence of marriage. Men also, who have the reputation of being less willing to get committed and stay committed, also hold the idea of permanence and violate it at great cost to their sense of integrity.

So, when we come to the couple's big day, we are using words and rituals that bear witness to divine realities. Wedding ceremonies, centering on vows, express sacramentally the divine nature of marriage. It may only take a couple of minutes to say those vows, but behind them lie the intentions of almighty God, which the couple acknowledge and accept as binding on them for the privilege of sharing life together. That is what the vows of marriage mean, but can we live them? Yes, we can, but let's be realistic about the journey that lies ahead.

Dr. Henry Brandt tells the story of a young couple, newly married, who were very much in loved. Nary a cloud on the horizon marred their married bliss, until it began to dawn on the smitten groom that the woman he married had an unfortunate habit. She liked to keep doors closed, and she closed doors rather hard. In moments of great realism he would say that she slammed doors. She did not do so in anger, but she did so often. Her motives were as pure as the driven snow, but she was a doorslammer and the daughter of a doorslammer.

He prayed it would stop. He hoped it would stop. Could she not see how annoying it was - this incessant slamming of doors? They were so happy. It must be a passing thing. He let it go, time after time, until one day she slammed the door behind her, and he shouted, "Would you just stop it?!"

He was horrified to hear those words come with force from his mouth. She was horrified to hear those words come from his mouth. They saw each other's shock, as she reentered the room and asked, "What did you say?" He was mortified. His face flushed with shame. He could barely speak. It took all his courage to say as meekly as possible, "I just wondered if it were entirely necessary for you to slam the door."

She said with disarming calm, "Do I slam doors?" He gently affirmed that now and again she might be known to slam a door or two. She said, "I had no idea," and promised it would not happen again. Both were relieved to have surmounted the first crisis of their marriage. They kissed as only those making up can kiss.

She left the room and actually turned twice with reassuring looks and to exchange blown kisses across the room. And she went out of the room and slammed the door. Fifty years of doors stretched before them. For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. "What God has joined together, let not man put asunder."

Early in our marriage, Carole discovered an unpleasant reality about me. I became irritable and depressed on Saturdays. I finally learned how to change that, but only after many years. Two reasons explain my former grumpiness. I like structure for my life, and, as an only child, I had learned many ways to structure it for myself.

When we got married, Saturdays presented a whole, new challenge. Carole had the weekend off from her job. I did not have classes and wanted to take a break from grad school study. The day lay before us. But what to do? On my own, I would have found things to do, but now I had this other person, who was there and whom I could not ignore. I had never had to consider another person's wishes in planning a whole day, and I did not know what to do. I did not know how to talk about it with her. I turned my anxiety inward. Saturday became a dread, and I demonstrated all that irritably and depressive behavior that made life unpleasant for her.

One dark Monday morning, about six months into our marriage and after a frustrating, tearful weekend, Carole said to me on her way to work, "You just need to tell me, if this is the way you are going to be on weekends for the rest of your life. I need to know, so that I can learn to deal with it." It stung me when she said that, and it still stings to think of the pain I caused her for so long. I am thankful for what God has helped Saturdays to become. For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. "What God has joined together, let not man put asunder."

A young couple, whom I minister to many years ago, hit a wall in their marriage. Within a couple of months of giving birth, she found out that she was pregnant again, precautions to the contrary notwithstanding. Neither was happy about it, and he was especially unhappy, as if she had more to do with it than he did.

His job moved him across country, and he went ahead of her, while she packed their stuff and got the house ready to sell. He came back on occasional weekends, but while apart, he began an affair with a single mom near his new job. Within a few weeks, his family had moved to the new location, and a few weeks after that, she learned about his affair. On the night she gave birth, he was with the other woman.

When he was home during those dark days, it made her fles crawl for him to be near her, never mind to touch her. When he was away, she sometimes felt like she wanted to shut all the windows, turn the gas on and kill herself and their children. When she was out it public alone, she found it pleasant to think that unknown men found her sexually attractive. It was a dangerous and miserable time.

It was three years, two more moves, any compassionate Christian friends, several competent therapists, and many personal confrontations before either could even say to the other again, "I love you." I wish you could see the depth and power of their love for each other today. For better for worse, for richer for pooer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part." "What God has joined together, let not man put asunder."

Dr. Robertson McQuilken describes the onset of Alzheimer's Disease in his wife, Muriel, this way. "Muriel never knew what was happening to her, though occasionally when there was a reference to Alzheimer's on TV she would muse aloud, 'I wonder if I'll ever have that?' It did not seem painful for her, but it was a slow dying for me to watch the vibrant, creative, articulate person I knew and loved gradually dimming out," (Living by Vows, unnumbered).

Dr. McQuilken was 57 years old, the president of Columbia Bible College and Seminary, when Muriel began "gradually dimming out." People urged him to put her in an institution, so that he could fulfill his dreams for the school he loved and served.

"Muriel would become accustomed to the new environment quickly," said lifelong friends. He was not so sure. "Would she? Would anyone love her at all, let alone love her as I do? I had often seen the empty, listless faces of those lined up on wheelchairs along the corridors of such places, waiting, waiting for the fleeting visit of some loved one. In such an environment, Muriel would be tamed only with drugs and bodily restraints, of that I was confident," (ibid.).

He tried to contine as president of the school, while a companion looked after his wife at home. He describes the failure of that arrangement this way. "During those two years it became increasingly difficult to keep Muriel home. As soon as I left, she would take out after me. With me she was content; without me, she was distressed, sometimes terror-stricken. The walk to school is a mile round trip. She would make that trip as many as ten times a day. Sometimes at night, when I helped her undress, I found bloody feet. When I told our family doctor, he choked up. 'Such love,' he said simply. Then after a minute, 'I have a theeory that the characteristics developed across the years come out at times like these,'" (ibid.).

The situation became untenable. Against the advice and wishes of friends, in the face of the school board's refusal to seek a successor, Dr. McQuilken resigned his post. He explains his action rather simply.

"When the time came, the decision was firm. It took no great calculation. It was a matter of integrity. Had I not promised 42 years before, 'in sickness and in health ... till death do us part'?

"this was no grim duty to which I was stoically resigned, however. It was only fair. She had, after all, cared for me for almost four decades with marvelous devotion; now it was my turn. And such a partner she was! If I took care of her for 40 years, I would never be out of her debt," (ibid.). For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. "What God has joined together, let not man put asunder."

Pastors in their fantasy fance that their series of sermons on the family will put an end to divorce. It does not. I have learned too much about the unbelievably dreadful things that men and women do and say to each other within marriage to believe that divorce will go away. I would wish all of you deliverance from such misery. Where you do not escape it, you will find compassion here.

On the other hand, none of us escapes tough times, some of them very tough indeed. Remember the intentions of the Creator of marriage. Remember the blessings of Jesus on marriage. Remember my examples and other examples of couples, who have weathered marital storms that can make you go weak in the knees.

Remember and take heart. Don't try to win arguments; try to understand feelings. Don't try to get your way; try to yourself away, and let it be mutual. Talk to each other. Talk to trusted mentors about how to get through tough spots. Talk to therapists. Talk to God on each other's behalf.

G.K. Chesterton said one time, "Staying with one woman is a small price to pray for having seen any woman at all," (Orthodoxy). Perhaps women might think the same thing of men. It captures the sense of gratitude to God for His amazing gift of marriage. Gratitude for this undeserved blessing may be most fundamental of all to the keeping of our vows.