Fight for your marriage, they said.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
So I did.
I read all the books. I prayed all the prayers. I prepared the meals, I cleaned the house, I respected his wishes. I became small so he could be bigger.
Maybe that would save us.
It didn’t.
Fight for your marriage, they said. Marriage is a beautiful thing.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
But fight with what?
My armor wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough.
My bloodied soul would lay battered and bruised on the ground, too spent to even block the next blow. And yet I would try, once more, to get to my feet, staggering blindly, and live to fight another day.
Every day.
Day after day…
Year after year…
Fight for your marriage, they said.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
But fight for what, exactly? What is a marriage, that we should fight for it?
Is a marriage tiptoeing in fear each day lest I awaken the enemy? Is a marriage a state of confusion? Is it an existence of wondering each and every day if I am crazy, if I am good enough, if I am even worth acknowledging as human?
Where was my happily-ever-after? Even an average-ever-after would have sufficed.
What exactly is a marriage, that it should be fought for so hard?
Fight for your marriage, they said. For the sake of your children.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
What do children need? Is a two-parent home the answer to all life’s struggles?
Children need more than that; they need love, they need truth, they need safe spaces to grow and safe spaces to fail. They need to know that they are valuable beyond measure.
So I fought to show love while the chains dragged me down. I fought to speak truth amidst a firestorm of lies. I fought to clear a safe space for both growth and failure while dodging missiles and hidden grenades. I fought with every strangled breath to choke out the words telling my children how valuable they were.
And in the midst of that war, I often fell far, far short. Damagingly short of what they needed.
How would my children ever come through this battle without life-altering and debilitating scars?
Was this what a marriage that blesses my children was supposed to look like?
Fight for your marriage, they said.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
But fight with who?
Shouldn’t fighting for a marriage involve two people, side by side, taking on the attacks of the enemy? Shouldn’t someone have my back?
Why, then, was I standing here alone?
Why, then, when I looked into the eyes of the one who had vowed to love, honor, and cherish till death do us part, did I see the enemy staring back at me?
Fight for your marriage, they said.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
So fight I must, because that is what all great warriors do. That is what all soldiers in this great Christian army do. They fight for their marriage.
And so fight I did.
But at what expense…?
Fight for your marriage, they said.
Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.
And my battle-scarred heart fought. And my battered soul fought. And my weary brain fought. And I cried. And fought. And prayed. And fought.
And when there was no fight left in me? I fought still.
And then God reached down, and spoke into my scarred and exhausted battle-worn self.
“Fight for beauty. Fight for love. Fight for what is right.“
That was the day my chains fell off. My vision cleared. And the warrior who had been fighting so hard for so long saw the reality.
Marriage is not a soul. Marriage is not a child of God. Marriage is not a living being that Jesus died for.
BUT I AM.
And the warrior in me rose up to fight that day, and a strength I’d never before experienced flooded every fiber of my being.
I would fight for BEAUTY.
I would fight for LOVE.
I would fight for what was RIGHT.
I would fight for my children.
I would fight for peace.
I would fight for justice.
I would fight for the honor of God’s name.
I would fight for this beautiful, worthy, warrior-daughter of God.
And so, I sheathed my sword and walked away.
Because in order to fight for something, you should first make sure it is actually something worth fighting for.
Fight for your marriage, they said.
And finally, by God’s grace, I said no.
But I will always, and forever,
Fight for beauty. I will fight for love. I will fight for what is right.
I will fight for that until the day I die.
From Broken 2 Healing 