Jade
July 3rd 2003, 02:32 PM
When Lightning Strikes
By Gary Thomas (http://www.family.org/married/growth/a0026481.cfm)
There is something mesmerizing to me about standing beneath a tree that is seven hundred years old. "What was happening here when this tree first started growing?" my daughter asked me as we hiked the western slope of the North Cascades in the state of Washington.
"Not much," I laughed, stunned by the realization that this tree was nearly two hundred years old when Martin Luther was born.
One of the reasons the trees on the western slope of the Cascades survive so long is quite simple: The Washington forests are so wet that lightning strikes cause relatively few fires. Whereas the traditional forest, if left alone, might face a lightning-initiated fire every fifty or sixty years, in this part of the Cascades it would be about once every two hundred years. Lightning strikes still come, but they're not as devastating, so trees have had a much longer time to take root and grow.
I think that's a good picture of a marriage that is based on the ministry of reconciliation. Strong Christian marriages will still be struck by lightning — sexual temptation, communication problems, frustrations, unrealized expectations — but if the marriages are heavily watered with an unwavering commitment to please God above everything else, the conditions won't be ripe for a devastating fire to follow the lightning strike.
If I'm married only for happiness, and my happiness wanes for whatever reason, one little spark will burn the entire forest of my relationship. But if my aim is to proclaim and model God's ministry of reconciliation, my endurance will be fireproof.
Practicing the spiritual discipline of marriage means that I put my relationship with God first. Just sticking it out is a victory in and of itself and creates a certain glory. The only real claim to fame in a forest full of trees is being seven hundred years old. As far as pure aesthetics go, you couldn't even see the very top of this particular tree in the Washington forest. From where we stood, it was just a straight and enormously wide trunk, covered with spiderwebs. We were walking in a forest filled with trees, but the National Parks Service put a sign in front of this tree for one reason, and for one reason only: It had survived for seven centuries. It had simply gone the distance, and in so doing it commanded attention.
In a society where relationships are discarded with a frightening regularity, Christians can command attention simply by staying married. And when asked why, we can offer the platform of God's message of reconciliation, followed by an invitation: "Would you like to hear more about that good news of reconciliation?"
In this sense, our marriages can be platforms for evangelism. They can draw people into a truth that points beyond this world into the next. Just by sticking it out in our marriages, we can build a monument to the principle and the practice of reconciliation.
Years ago Paul Simon wrote a best-selling song proclaiming "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover." A Christian needs just one reason to stay with his or her "lover": the analogy of Christ and his church.
By Gary Thomas (http://www.family.org/married/growth/a0026481.cfm)
There is something mesmerizing to me about standing beneath a tree that is seven hundred years old. "What was happening here when this tree first started growing?" my daughter asked me as we hiked the western slope of the North Cascades in the state of Washington.
"Not much," I laughed, stunned by the realization that this tree was nearly two hundred years old when Martin Luther was born.
One of the reasons the trees on the western slope of the Cascades survive so long is quite simple: The Washington forests are so wet that lightning strikes cause relatively few fires. Whereas the traditional forest, if left alone, might face a lightning-initiated fire every fifty or sixty years, in this part of the Cascades it would be about once every two hundred years. Lightning strikes still come, but they're not as devastating, so trees have had a much longer time to take root and grow.
I think that's a good picture of a marriage that is based on the ministry of reconciliation. Strong Christian marriages will still be struck by lightning — sexual temptation, communication problems, frustrations, unrealized expectations — but if the marriages are heavily watered with an unwavering commitment to please God above everything else, the conditions won't be ripe for a devastating fire to follow the lightning strike.
If I'm married only for happiness, and my happiness wanes for whatever reason, one little spark will burn the entire forest of my relationship. But if my aim is to proclaim and model God's ministry of reconciliation, my endurance will be fireproof.
Practicing the spiritual discipline of marriage means that I put my relationship with God first. Just sticking it out is a victory in and of itself and creates a certain glory. The only real claim to fame in a forest full of trees is being seven hundred years old. As far as pure aesthetics go, you couldn't even see the very top of this particular tree in the Washington forest. From where we stood, it was just a straight and enormously wide trunk, covered with spiderwebs. We were walking in a forest filled with trees, but the National Parks Service put a sign in front of this tree for one reason, and for one reason only: It had survived for seven centuries. It had simply gone the distance, and in so doing it commanded attention.
In a society where relationships are discarded with a frightening regularity, Christians can command attention simply by staying married. And when asked why, we can offer the platform of God's message of reconciliation, followed by an invitation: "Would you like to hear more about that good news of reconciliation?"
In this sense, our marriages can be platforms for evangelism. They can draw people into a truth that points beyond this world into the next. Just by sticking it out in our marriages, we can build a monument to the principle and the practice of reconciliation.
Years ago Paul Simon wrote a best-selling song proclaiming "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover." A Christian needs just one reason to stay with his or her "lover": the analogy of Christ and his church.