Live like you’re loved

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:17-19)

The devil loves to attack, steal, and destroy our joy. He will torture, torment, terrify, and tear us apart, piece by piece and limb by limb – whatever it takes, using whatever or whoever he can to try, test, and trap us in doubt, despair, and dejection – all for the sole purpose of destroying our Christian walk by obliterating our contentment. Sometimes, I think, the stronger we are in our faith, the more arrows the devil will shoot at us; the more he desires to hurt us. If we have Christ in our hearts, Satan can never take away our salvation. What he can do is disable us, preventing us from growing and becoming the creation that Christ longs for each of us to become. We can’t let that happen.  

It’s no secret that I’ve been under spiritual attack these past few months. The more I long to serve God, the harder the devil has been working to shut me down. Fatigue, anxiety, job upheaval, health challenges, and even relational issues have each had their respective turns at repeatedly knocking me off my feet.  

This past year, it’s taken a conscious effort to keep my eyes focused on Christ as He’s led me across the stormy waters. I’ve had to trust more, dig deeper, and praise harder than ever before, even when my spirit was lagging within me. It’s been a choice, a persistent effort to refocus my mind and pray, praising God while lying awake in the middle of the night, wondering what tomorrow will bring. I’ve battled despair, demoralization, and detachment in ways I thought I’d never feel again. It’s not been easy to let go of my circumstances to inwardly praise, surrender, and move forward while external forces were pummeling me. With God’s help, my journey continues.  

I love my husband. David is a gift from God. Sometimes, however, I’m not sure if he feels the same way about me. He’s been a bachelor for most of his adult life, and having a wife to remind, question, and subtly suggest that there may be other ways to do things that he’s been doing for as long as he can remember is, undoubtedly, hard for him. That’s what married life is – or at least, that’s how I believe it should be.

Anger, fear, and mistrust are not just emotions – they’re solid bricklayers. Before we know it, these simple emotive responses can create walls in even the most secure relationships. We never intend to erect them, but behind the scenes, with every argument, angry statement, and unguarded utterance, these bricks are piling up, oftentimes unseen, erecting obstacles that can be difficult to knock down.  

In the midst of all my job chaos, what I thought was a mutual decision for me not to accompany David to celebrate his older brother’s birthday in California became what he perceived as my rejection of his family – and his life, in general. There are times when I admit to wondering if David is happy with me at all. Such thoughts denigrate me like little else.   

David and I are two very different people. His gregarious nature doesn’t match my reclusiveness. What I once perceived as a shared happy life has become a recurring litany of how different his existence is with me in it. This, more than any other attack by the devil, hurts me more than anything else. I miss being accepted. I miss feeling secure. I miss being able to be myself with my husband. There are days when I know he loves me even while fully accepting that he doesn’t always like me that much.  

And so, I went to California. Social events with required small talk are about as far outside my comfort zone as possible, and yet, I went. The event was understandably important for David, and so it was important for me to be there. As he so succinctly put it, “I’ve spent my whole life attending events alone.” He’s not alone, and so he wasn’t. I had one relational conversation while I was there that proved the trip to be invaluable – and I’m glad I was there for that.  

Despite this trip and David’s happiness about our shared travel, the hurtful things he says to me when he’s angry keep coming up. I’m concerned about triggering his anger, as it seems he has a list of my insufficiencies that will be brought up when he’s upset. He knows I won’t always like his decisions, so he has made a few without discussion that ended up hurting me and making him angry.  

The things said in these disagreements – or sometimes even just my unspoken reactions to his decisions – are so similar to the refrains that are repeatedly cycled in my psyche that I can’t immediately let the hurt go. David perceives my inability to turn off my pain on demand as “stewing” on things that he said.  I’m not stewing, baking, or cooking anything. The dinner was served, and his perception of me hasn’t changed. It’s impossible to let such a reality go. I consider, learn, and adjust. Words, once uttered and repeated, can’t be turned off like a switch. They have changed me.  

David isn’t my savior. He is my husband. We’ll have good days and bad, happy times and sad times as a couple. That’s how marriage works. David may never understand how words, rejection, and abuse have controlled, debased, and squashed me in the past. That’s unfortunate. He said I don’t know who he is. Honestly, I can say the same to him about me. He doesn’t seem to know who I am either.  

Each day, I make a conscious choice to remind myself that my true Savior, Jesus Christ, loves me – no matter what I say, do, or how I react. It doesn’t matter if I’m perfect or flawed, outgoing or introverted, engaging or pensive. Jesus loves me in a deeply devoted and uniquely dynamic manner. His love will never change. It remains the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  

My Savior understands me. God doesn’t see my imperfections; He sees the blood that His precious Son, Jesus Christ, shed on the cross to cover my sins. He loves me, just the way I am – and that fact matters more to me than anything.  

I’m happy I went to California to support David. He may see my quietness as a detriment, but I know God created me the way I am for a reason, for His unique purpose. I don’t need to fit into a mold, act a certain way, or be comfortable with every situation to be flawless to my Creator.  

I am God’s creation. Insecurities and imperfections mean nothing to Him. He sees me as His perfect child because of His love that covers me.  

In the end, Christ’s opinion of me is all that matters. I’m grateful for the flaws that remind me of my need for a perfect Savior. I will continue to strive to be more like Him, even as I accept my imperfections. I thank God daily for His omnipresent love, whose length, breadth, and depth can never be measured.