Two Marriage Lessons

It’s a foreign concept to most Americans, but for Coptic Orthodox Christians, it’s common knowledge: marriage is not for happiness but for holiness.

This view stands in stark contrast to modern expectations of romance. In a culture that often treats marriage as a vehicle for personal fulfillment, many people slide deeper into narcissism and end up worse off for it. When you see marriage as a means of holiness and salvation rather than individual happiness, “I’m just not happy” or “we’re incompatible” lose their power as acceptable reasons to walk away.

I’ve been married for two years now, and these are probably the two biggest lessons I’ve learned so far.

Lesson 1: Forgiveness Makes Growth Possible

Marriage has taught me that forgiveness is necessary for any real growth to occur.

I’ve learned that people do change—they just never change as quickly as you want them to, or as drastically as you want them to.

I’ve watched my husband grow and improve, and the only way to give him room to do so is to forgive him. If I keep holding past mistakes or annoying habits over his head and bringing them up again and again, how is he supposed to change? More importantly, how am I ever going to see and accept the new and improved version of him if I refuse to let go of the past?

Forgiveness creates the space where growth can actually happen.

Lesson 2: Marriage Holds Up a Mirror

Marriage has also taught me that it’s a mirror for the things you would rather ignore about yourself.

Almost everything that annoys me about my husband is something I do myself. It’s been a very humbling lesson.

Now, whenever I start to feel irritated with him, I ask myself, “But do you do it too?” Ninety-nine percent of the time, the answer is yes. It sucks to recognize your own hypocrisy. Yet marriage holds that mirror right up to my face every single day and puts me in a headlock until I look.

It’s painful. But it’s necessary.

I’m a hypocrite, and I need to forgive. I’m pretty sure Christ spoke about both of those things a lot. Go figure.

If you want to be happy, you probably shouldn’t get married. But if you want to grow, dive right in. The water’s great.

Misunderstanding the Right Hand Thief

An interesting topic that sometimes comes up in Christian circles is the thief who was crucified on Christ’s right side—the one who believed in the final moments before his death and was saved.

Some might wonder: What’s the point of struggling to live a holy life if I can just repent on my deathbed and still be saved? But I don’t see him as an example of a “last-minute repenter.” Quite the opposite—he wasted no time.

He saw Christ for the first time and essentially declared, “That’s God, everybody! It’s so obvious! Can’t you see? What’s wrong with you people?!” Okay, I’m paraphrasing, but the heart of it is true.

How many of us have known Christ our whole lives and still struggle to truly believe? How many of us doubt God’s promises even after decades of studying and experiencing them?

We have seen Christ in all His glory, and yet we still doubt. The right-hand thief saw Him in His ultimate human weakness—and yet he immediately believed, more fully than the twelve apostles, without ever witnessing the resurrection.

His instant faith upon his first—and only—encounter with Christ shakes me to my core. I almost wish he hadn’t raised the bar so high.

No one preached to him. He saw no miracles. He didn’t study the Scriptures and reason his way to faith. He simply recognized he was in the presence of God and submitted to Him without hesitation.

Rather than a model of last-minute repentance, he is the ultimate example of full and immediate faith the very first time he met Christ.

If he had encountered Jesus sooner, what an incredible apostle he would have been. And how far I fall short of that kind of faith. May God remove my sluggish faith and give me the faith of Demas.