I Ditched Christian Marriage Advice

It saved my marriage — and my sanity.

It was a Sunday morning, and we were scheduled to have some couples over for a potluck meal. As a group, we had met over six weeks, getting trained to be coaches/mentors to young couples. This was to be our last hurrah before meeting our new mentorees and imparting our wisdom. My husband and I, at least from a certain perspective, qualified beautifully. We had been married for 27 years, and things had been going pretty well between us for some time.

At least, that’s what it looked like from the outside.

Going through the curriculum to be mentors triggered some things in both of us and the situation started to unravel pretty quickly. By that Sunday morning, I told my husband I wanted to pull out. The truth was, we were not a happily married couple, and who were we kidding being coaches.

But of course, divorce was not an option for us.

We were good evangelical Christians and, so help us, we were determined to suffer through a bad marriage rather than to separate and break God’s supposedly holy commands.

This was what we were taught in church, along with a whole bunch of other damaging marriage advice that was presented as life-giving truth, but, in reality, was strangling our marriage to death.

A bad marriage ’til death do us part

The teachings that brought us so much pain in our marriage went something like this:

Pastor: Suffer abuse “for a season,” maybe endure being smacked once; submit to your husband “as unto the Lord” for he (God) will protect you; if he is not leading you into direct sin, submit to him because he is the head of the home.

This is the advice I was given from the pulpit almost verbatim from a white, male, evangelical preacher.

Male Christian therapist: Listen and validate your husband because everyone is a sinner, and you are no different.

This white, male, evangelical therapist dismissed me when I told him of my husband’s rants, abusive language, and controlling behavior.

Christian marital books: Be sure to please your husband’s sexual needs whenever he asks so he does not fall into sin; men and women are different, said the author — while actively mocking and making light of women’s needs.

This was was the advice I was given. So, I felt locked into a bad marriage “until death do us part.”

The breaking point

My husband had been in one of his “foul moods,” for the I-lost-count-of-the number-of times. I never knew what triggered them, but I did know they were intensified by alcohol, and he had been drinking that night — and as was his modus operandi in those days, lied about it. He lived with constant high anxiety, and when he drank, all the muted fears became nightmares for him at that moment.

That night, he had become paranoid, was convinced I was having an affair, and his sentence structure made no sense to any reality I could fathom. Oh, and he accused me of wanting him to die and poison him with some bad chicken pulled from the fridge.

Yet again. It was exhausting trying to allay his fears —it was like speaking into a black hole.

The next day I gave my husband an ultimatum: move out by Friday, or I was calling the lawyers.

Many factors led up to this decision, even though to outsiders, it seemed out of the blue, over the top, and an uncharacteristic move in our marriage. Supposedly, we had the perfect family: a long-term marriage and a quintessential Christian one at that: we were faithful church attenders and led a small group Bible study in our home. He worked, I stayed home and raised the kids.

It just goes to show how little the church addresses mental health issues — they are ignored, swept under the rug, or demonized. Never is it part of normal conversation with resources and support at the ready. It is almost always viewed as sin — naturally, on the woman’s part.

No, this was not out of the blue or out of character. It had been building for quite some time, but I needed “permission” to take action. I had heard sermons, been counseled by Christian therapists, and read some incredibly damaging theology regarding marriage. To disregard it meant I was going against God Almighty himself. I needed something really powerful to counteract all that indoctrination, and it took the form of a master's degree in counseling from a seminary.

Yes, I see the irony in that last statement.

Seminary changed me

Words cannot express how transformative that degree was. I observed countless examples of women being trained to become pastors. At first, this was disconcerting because I didn’t think that was allowed — or they simply didn’t exist. Then I became empowered by their example, the first (of many) cracks in my theology regarding women’s authority in the church.

I had female Bible teachers who brought a new and beautiful perspective to Scripture. A female at the seminary taught Hebrew (gasp!), and I heard rumors of men strenuously objecting to being under her tutelage. However, the seminary remained steadfast — they had to sit under her teaching. My assumption that only men could be gatekeepers of Biblical knowledge began to crumble.

A male theology teacher whose wife was an Anglican priest challenged my view that only men could be priests and pastors. He was also the first one to question the historicity of the Jewish Exodus out of Egypt. He said that there was no confirmation that such a thing happened based on archeology and extra-Biblical evidence. None. My assumption regarding the inerrancy of Scripture began to crumble.

Getting a degree in theology and mental health was a powerful duo, forcing me to take a long hard look at the problems in my marriage. I could now see how the evangelical church, in its infinite “wisdom,” had contributed to the dysfunction in our marriage.

But my degree gave me the language I needed to finally put into words what was happening — I was not making things up, nor was I crazy. It empowered me theologically, psychologically, and as a female — God was with me, my mental health was improving, and a proper balance in my marriage could be restored.

Why I stayed married

First and foremost, my husband was my friend. We met our freshman year in college, and along with other students, hung out together. We shared meals, he listened to my boyfriend woes, we went for walks, and generally enjoyed each other’s company; we studied together as I wriggled my toes under his legs to keep them warm in the cold Minnesota winters. In other words, we were companions.

I left for England for the better part of a year to study abroad, and our relationship blossomed through letter-writing — yes, the snail mail kind. When I came back, we began to date more formally, and it was then that I saw some mood swings that baffled me.

I remember the day I walked into his dorm room and told him I thought our relationship was over. He gave me such a terrified and angry look; it took me aback. However, I remember standing there and being given the first insight of many: my husband, troubled as he was, was also an incredible person. I was given the choice to either ride that roller coaster or take a safer path.

I chose the roller coaster.

He was:

• Wickedly smart but incomprehensively obtuse when the “mood” was upon him.
• Cried at weddings and births, wrote poetry, made thoughtful gifts, but be confusingly insensitive and rude when the mood struck.
• Never one to miss a day of work unless seriously ill, but feared being homeless.
• An amazing and creative cook, pulling masterpieces out of thin air, but became completely incompetent when in one of his “moods.”
• A whiz at math, he could not do a simple equation during “those” times.
• He was annoyingly good at puns but could not string together two words to make sense at those “other” times.
• Gentle, kind, and considerate, but ruthless, controlling, and demeaning when in one of his moods.

Most of the time, he lived in the “positive” zone, which made living with him quite enjoyable and rewarding. We read countless books together, had great discussions, went for beautiful and relaxing drives in the mountains, and had fun family vacations. He supported my interests both financially and with encouragement. In general, we had a good balance in parenting our four kids.

The unpredictable part of him, the “negative,” “paranoid” part that seemed to come out of nowhere, was so crazy-making that I was losing my mind. During those times, all bets were off — the things he supported before were now a huge burden. The thoughts and ideas shared became weapons.

He threatened suicide and had nightmares of being completely lost and alone, waking up in a crappy mood — which inevitably led to a difficult day. The roller coaster had become too unsafe for me, and I needed to get off for my own mental health. It eventually led me to give an ultimatum: move out, or I was calling the lawyers.

The day he left, I had both the most overwhelming sense of compassion for him AND a strong resolve and determination that this had to happen or our marriage was over — and my sanity. I often dived into depression and knew that my mental health was at stake if he did not leave.

He took my words to heart and began the long journey of serious self-work through professional counseling from a dynamo woman. Eventually, I joined as well, and we learned long-neglected communication skills and how to set firm boundaries. She taught us safe practices, words, and actions. It was an exhausting and difficult journey because we had both kept sliding back into our bad habits.

But it was a journey worth taking.

After six weeks of separation, we got back together, only this time the power dynamic had changed and that made all the difference.

The power dynamic changed

Now his “bad” days are few and far between and do not last. We have learned to see where his triggers are (mostly) and avoid them. I am now living with the friend I knew was under all that mess, and we enjoy each other’s company.

I have grown immensely from the subservient ‘I-have-no-idea-what-I-think-or-want’ person to one who speaks her mind. I have learned that submission and headship in marriage with mental health issues is deadly. Sometimes literally.

He respects my opinion and views; I value his input. We squabble over minor things and know when to take a break from each other.

In other words, we are a normal couple.

But, we never would have made it, if I’d kept listening to the marriage advice I was given in church.

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