Before we said “I do.”
Before we marched into that crowd of friendly faces and promised every freckle and scar to each other’s care.
Before the rehearsal dinner.
Before the invitations were sent.
Before I said “yes.”
Before the ring sparkled from the tiny box in his hand.
Before we talked through the night and held hands on the footbridge.
Before we had dinner that night after church.
Before I saw him come into the room that first time.
Before him, there was a standard.
A list, if you will, of absolutes in regard to who I would yield to.
Arms had been open before his, but I would not fall into them. Some had walked away, some had pulled me in anyway, but until him, there had never been surrender.
I was not afraid to yield, though some insisted I was.
Too picky?
Yes, but I was only afraid of being wrong.
I had seen wrong.
Wrong confined strong women to the arduous task of always correcting. Plucking her house apart in the effort to fix it.
Wrong suppressed quiet women to an ungodly submission.
Wrong showed itself in the scars from unseen battles behind closed doors.
I didn’t want wrong.
I didn’t want what looked right.
I didn’t want simply a good match.
I wanted a Godly match.
The one chosen for me.
“He treats me good.” I heard her voice cracking under the weight of the shame he had made her swallow.
“He doesn’t cheat on me…that I know of.” She was defending her love for him, more than his character.
He is a broken boy, a shriveled soul who never had his hand slapped for reaching too far.
His father unseen, his mother unloved, his lover unknowing. He needed God and no one had ever called him on his selfishness loudly enough for him to see it.
I told her to get away, take the love with you but make him understand you cannot continue the course you are on. Two weeks before the ceremony, four months before the son would be born, so much to push her the wrong direction, but can you risk it all for uncertainty? Is it better to give your son his name or to insist he become a daddy first?
Before him, there should be a standard.
He should be able to read it on your face.
He should be able to feel it in your hands.
He should know that you are not submitting until he has learned authority.
Authority over himself.
There is a single authority that must be held up.
He must know first how to support himself, how to hear from God, how to pray for you, how to translate your heart and how to meet your need.
Before him, you need to set this standard.
Before he blinds you to the borrowed existence, before he beguiles you to shrug away the absence of the fear of God with gazes to the stars and whispered mentions of his gift from god in your ear, before he woos you with mere soft words.
Before him, you have authority. Before you, God has authority.
Would you give God’s daughter to this man? Is God giving you to this man?
Shake off the deception of being treated well. Look for Truth first. Look for unshaken faith. Look for conviction, humility and a servant heart. How does he treat God? You will do well to ask.
Single authority.
Embrace it well before you are entangled in arms that won’t hold you, but will use you just to stand.
Wisdom speaks. If only they will listen.
Good words, friend. So many women need to hear this – especially before.