Winning Him Without Words: 10 Keys to Thriving in Your Spiritually Mismatched Marriage by Lynn Donovan, Dineen Miller Page B
Authors: Lynn Donovan, Dineen Miller
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something about which I still felt somewhat ashamed. Ever been in that place where the words are coming out and, in your mind, you’re wondering what in the world is going on? What possessed you to even bring up such a thing?
So there I sat in this posh restaurant, enjoying an evening of peace, and I proceeded to tell my husband how I was rude tothe receptionist at the doctor’s office earlier that day.
I even told him, “I can make all kinds of excuses. I didn’t want to be there. Was dreading it, in fact. The receptionist’s greeting lacked any friendliness. Most likely due to the fact that she was flustered at the moment. She made me wait, and then she proceeded to help the next person who walked in.”
Yada, yada, yada . . .
But still, she didn’t deserve my attitude. That’s it right there: my attitude.
The funny thing is, the situation at the doctor’s office reminded me of someone else’s rudeness I’d observed in years past and how uncomfortable it had made me to be a witness to it. To think I had treated someone in that manner mortified me. How could I have done that?
I shared this with my husband. All of it. Why? I have no idea, but I did. Me, the Christian, mistreated a stranger. What would he think of my faith now? What would he think of the Jesus I professed to follow?
Wait. It gets better.
I went on to tell my husband how I had prayed silently, asking God for an opportunity to apologize. (Yeah, I know. What was I thinking?) I went on to share that before I could even say “amen,” this young woman was standing in front of me. Right in front of me.
I continued my story, “I told her flat out, I was sorry, that she didn’t deserve my attitude. She said she understood the circumstances, but I told her I still shouldn’t have treated her that way.”
The Holy Spirit had to be sitting at the dinner table that night. I finished my story and looked at my husband. He smiled and said, “I bet she really appreciated that.” But what stopped me was the subtext—the pride I saw in his eyes. I screwed up, and he was proud of me.
I still have no idea why I told him about what happened, but I do believe the Holy Spirit was at work that evening. Up to this point, I’d thought I had to be a perfect representation of what a Christian should be, but God exposed my flaws and my pride, and He continues to prune them away.
God doesn’t want perfection. He wants authenticity.
Heart Tablets
You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts
.
2 CORINTHIANS 3:2-3
If I could tell my husband one thing today, I would tell him that I love him. If I could speak special words to him today, I would speak of my love for him. If I could show him who I love most, I would show him Christ.
How do we show Christ? How do we convey with actions what we’d like to say with words? How can we show Christ and not just speak of Him? For the spiritually mismatched, this is our greatest challenge. More often than not, it’s our actions that speak of our faith more effectively than our words.
I love the imagery Paul used in comparing tablets of stone to tablets of human hearts. He speaks of showing ourselves as messages from Christ so undeniable that we leave a permanent impression on the hearts of those we meet, on those we love.
That’s a tall order to fulfill, but Paul made another point clear here: It is not by our efforts that we do this. If it were, we would be taking credit for another’s salvation—as if we, by our own efforts, had saved them.
No, Paul referred directly to the Spirit of the living God. The Holy Spirit is the ink, the markings, the unforgettable and undeniable presence of God made visible with His Son through us. We are simply the parchment, a willing and ready surface for
So there I sat in this posh restaurant, enjoying an evening of peace, and I proceeded to tell my husband how I was rude tothe receptionist at the doctor’s office earlier that day.
I even told him, “I can make all kinds of excuses. I didn’t want to be there. Was dreading it, in fact. The receptionist’s greeting lacked any friendliness. Most likely due to the fact that she was flustered at the moment. She made me wait, and then she proceeded to help the next person who walked in.”
Yada, yada, yada . . .
But still, she didn’t deserve my attitude. That’s it right there: my attitude.
The funny thing is, the situation at the doctor’s office reminded me of someone else’s rudeness I’d observed in years past and how uncomfortable it had made me to be a witness to it. To think I had treated someone in that manner mortified me. How could I have done that?
I shared this with my husband. All of it. Why? I have no idea, but I did. Me, the Christian, mistreated a stranger. What would he think of my faith now? What would he think of the Jesus I professed to follow?
Wait. It gets better.
I went on to tell my husband how I had prayed silently, asking God for an opportunity to apologize. (Yeah, I know. What was I thinking?) I went on to share that before I could even say “amen,” this young woman was standing in front of me. Right in front of me.
I continued my story, “I told her flat out, I was sorry, that she didn’t deserve my attitude. She said she understood the circumstances, but I told her I still shouldn’t have treated her that way.”
The Holy Spirit had to be sitting at the dinner table that night. I finished my story and looked at my husband. He smiled and said, “I bet she really appreciated that.” But what stopped me was the subtext—the pride I saw in his eyes. I screwed up, and he was proud of me.
I still have no idea why I told him about what happened, but I do believe the Holy Spirit was at work that evening. Up to this point, I’d thought I had to be a perfect representation of what a Christian should be, but God exposed my flaws and my pride, and He continues to prune them away.
God doesn’t want perfection. He wants authenticity.
Heart Tablets
You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts
.
2 CORINTHIANS 3:2-3
If I could tell my husband one thing today, I would tell him that I love him. If I could speak special words to him today, I would speak of my love for him. If I could show him who I love most, I would show him Christ.
How do we show Christ? How do we convey with actions what we’d like to say with words? How can we show Christ and not just speak of Him? For the spiritually mismatched, this is our greatest challenge. More often than not, it’s our actions that speak of our faith more effectively than our words.
I love the imagery Paul used in comparing tablets of stone to tablets of human hearts. He speaks of showing ourselves as messages from Christ so undeniable that we leave a permanent impression on the hearts of those we meet, on those we love.
That’s a tall order to fulfill, but Paul made another point clear here: It is not by our efforts that we do this. If it were, we would be taking credit for another’s salvation—as if we, by our own efforts, had saved them.
No, Paul referred directly to the Spirit of the living God. The Holy Spirit is the ink, the markings, the unforgettable and undeniable presence of God made visible with His Son through us. We are simply the parchment, a willing and ready surface for
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