Our daughter celebrated her one-month wedding anniversary yesterday. She called on the phone to tell me all about the present she bought for them – the special edition 4 DVD package of The Lord of the Rings. She knew without a doubt that her husband would be thrilled and that they would both enjoy it. Bill and I are going to celebrate our 28^th wedding anniversary this weekend. What we like to do is drive out of town and "see what we can see," eat a nice meal out and stay in a bed and breakfast.

We love to celebrate our marriage.

This morning I am working on my first cup of coffee, after dressing, making the orange juice and putting the roast and potatoes into the crock-pot. Bill has outlined a schedule for us and at the top of this list is, "Would you mine writing your "marriage article" between 8:30 and 9:30 this morning?" It is fun to think that he believes inspiration can be scheduled. Maybe he is right, maybe inspiration inhabits discipline. I am willing to give it a try.

There it is. Give it a try. Follow my husband’s suggestion.

I teach by telling stories. My stories, my experiences and the related scripture that has instructed me. And there are a bunch of scriptures that sometimes women doubt.

Doubt whether Paul knew what he was talking about. Doubt themselves as able to follow "the rules." Doubt "the rules" as relevant to their situation. I have even heard "I tried following "the rules" and it didn’t work."

My husband has made several interjections into the office air we share. Excitedly talking about the features of a video camera, "We can grab sharp ‘stills!’" He has just exclaimed, "We are writing together! A Kodak moment!" I need more coffee, and need to refocus on the point of the previous paragraph. It is important in marriage to be flexible! To fan our sense of humor. To keep things in perspective. Working together with my husband is fun. If I get to thinking that I am more important and what I am doing is more important, than frustration and edginess steal joy.

There it is. When we "think more highly of ourselves than we ought" we often become frustrated, edgy and loose our joy.

Back to scripture "rules." Naw, throw out the rules. Let’s look at relationship instead. And really our "marriage relationship" doesn’t start with my husband and myself. It starts with my relationship with our Heavenly Father and my husband’s relationship with our Heavenly Father.

The relationship we each share with God directly affects our marriage relationship.

When our daughter and her new husband were married last month, they ceremonially lit a unity candle. As they each took the lit taper representing their lives and jointly lit the center candle, they symbolically were proclaiming themselves one with the Lord and each other. Now they will spend the rest of their lives making practical application!

Practical, intimate, day to day application. This either sounds like work or sounds like fun! Actually, the work is fun.

Here is a bottom line, marriage in the Lord can be seen as like a triangle. The Father at the top point, and the Husband and Wife beginning at the bottom two corners. As each partner travels in relationship closer to God, they are also travelling closer to each other.

Unity. One with each other and the Lord. Blessed. Joyful. Solid. Loving. And the greatest of these is Loving.

To make a marriage work requires commitment. In the context of commitment over many years a husband and wife can grow a marriage into something that makes romance seem frivolous by comparison.

Years ago, I was invited to speak to a group of students at Bryn Mawr college, an elitist women’s school in suburban Philadelphia. I was asked to defend traditional marriage against the criticism brought by feminist ideologists.

At the end of the lecture there was a time for questions and answers and I soon found myself besieged by tough interrogators. I felt I was losing the arguments and being overwhelmed by my adversaries. Then, I suddenly remembered a story that a friend of mine, Dale Moody, a former professor of New Testament at Sou7thern Baptist Theological Seminary, had related to me aboiut6 the death of his mother. It illustrated better than anything else I could have said what a loving, committed marriage is all about, and why it is superior to romance.

The day his mother died, she and Dale’s father were having breakfast, when suddenly she slumped in her chair and then fell to the floor. Her husband of fifty-four years ran around to the other side of the table, swept up his bride, and went running from the house. He placed her in the front seat of the pickup truck and drove down the driveway and onto the highway like a hot rod in a race. Sadly the elderly woman was dead on arrival at the hospital.

After they buried her, Dale, his brother, and his father retreated to the old homestead, sat on the back porch in rocking chairs, and reminisced. After an hour or so, the father asked Dale and his brother, "What do you suppose Mama is doing right now? What do you think she is doing this very moment?"

The two of them did their best to answer the question, with Dale reaching into his vast knowledge of Scripture and his wealth of theological knowledge for help. It was his brother, how ever, who came up with the best answer when he said, "Mom closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the first thing she saw was the face of Jesus. I think at this very moment she’s still reveling in that experience."

The old man smiled blissfully, then began to recite the words of an old gospel song: "Oh, that will be glory for me, glory for me, glory for me. When by His grace, I shall look on His face, that will be glory-be glory for me!" Then he said, "Take me back to the cemetery!"

Dale protested, "It’s 10:30 at night!"

"Don’t argue with somebody who has just buried his wife of fifty-four years!" responded the old man. "Now, take me back to the cemetery!"

When they got back to the gravesite, the old man checked things out to make sure that everything was just as it should be. He tidied up some of the flower arrangements, rubbed some dirt off of some stones, then stood back and stared at the grave for a long, long time. He then reached out and put an arm around each of his sons’ shoulders. Squeezing his two sons against his body, he said, "Boys, it was a good fifty-four years and it ended just the way I wanted it to end—your mother went first! You see, when two people care about each other as much as your mother and I cared about each other, each wants the other to go first. I didn’t want her to go through the pain of having to put me in the grave. If anybody was going to suffer, I wanted it to be me."

After a poignant silence, the old man said, "We can go home now. It was a good fifty-four years! And come to think about it, boys, it’s been a good day! I hope you understand that. It’s been a very good day."

When I finished telling the story, my opponents were dead silent. I ended the discussion by saying, "What those two elderly people had created between them over fifty-four years makes romantic infatuation and its temporary liaisons seem shallow by comparison."

And I knew I had them!