by Guest Blogger Andrea Frazer.
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When I got married, it didn’t bother me at all that my husband wasn’t a Christian. Love, kindness, a decent job and a Cary Grant jaw-line were all the tools I needed to embark on a promising future. (Some of you might scoff at my criteria, but I am willing to bet dollars to Sunday morning doughnuts that many of you got married to your dreamboat under similar circumstances.) If I’m really being honest – because how can I grow if I’m not willing to talk authentically – how Christian was I anyway? Sure, I went to a Christian school. Sometimes I even went to church. But what did I really know about what I knew? And what did I not know about what I didn’t know? (I suppose the same questions could be asked about marriage, too.) |
Cut to ten years and two kids later, suddenly Christ is pretty important to me. I wish I could say it’s because I am such a devout believer, or that the image of Jesus appears in my steaming mug of Yuban every morning. (Dude, he has way better hair than I do.)
But the truth? Life has hit me in the face pretty hard the past few years. I have to know what the point of our earth journey is? What is this talk of heaven? How can I align my intellect’s voice that’s screaming, “Oh, COME ON, did this really happen?” with my faith voice of “Anything can happen, Andrea, with God. Read the Word. Lower your own voice. Listen to God’s voice.”
Being the A-personality type that I am, it isn’t that easy. Oh, sure, I can follow anything in blind submission for a time, but how long can I keep that up? (Day 3 of my marriage? I was totally over it.) No, I can’t simply follow Jesus’ teaching as some sort of morality play I can read to my kids at bed time then turn around the next morning and continue business as usual. (Well, except for the profile of Jesus in my morning coffee. That would not be normal. Though I’d totally take a picture and upload it for you. Right after I passed out and went to my shrink.) I want to know, in a world of such uncertain chaos, that I can find peace and hope thanks to one man. My husband!
I mean, Jesus!
Jesus Christ! (No, I am not cursing. I’m making a point.) Jesus Christ is the point of this blog! Who is this man? What does He mean to me? What does He mean to my kids? And how can I follow his example of living of the world/not in it, if my earthly mate wants to live in the world, but not of it?
To put it bluntly, I am having a spiritual crisis. It’s kind of like being diagnosed with spiritual bipolar disorder: 2 drastically different views of the world from the 2 men I am supposed to align myself with most.
How can I strike that balance? What do I believe of Jesus to be true? What do I believe of my husband to be true? How can I teach my kids to follow both men’s lead if I am not 100% sure of what I believe myself?
The honest truth? I haven’t arrived at my answer. But I do know that God is calling me closer to Him. He wants me to ask the hard questions. He wants me to honor my husband for where he is at this point in his life. And He wants me to not be afraid to ask the hard questions, both of Jesus and of Rex. After all, both husbands profess to adore me and love me for everything that I am. There is nothing too big that I can’t ask, right? If they are all they say they are, they will have an answer for me.
So, on that note, here are my 2 big questions for my men:
1. Jesus, if everything is written right there in the Bible for us, why do so many of us feel confused about it?
2. Rex, why do you love Star Trek so much?
I swear, if both of those questions were answered for me tonight, I would have no need to write this blog ever again. But since I have a feeling this is a journey, I’ll catch up with you in a few days.
What about you? Are you 100% rooted in your journey, or do you have questions? I’d love to have a respectful discussion about it. And seriously, if God is appearing in your morning cup of coffee, can you please post a photo pronto!? It would save me a lot of time. Like those beans, I’d finally be really grounded in Christ. (Oh shut up. I know it’s a bad joke.)