I know many of you have read some of my poems, especially I Have an Identity, and I remember some of the conversations and comments that followed.
Let me clarify something.
I am not a feminist in the sense of teaching women to reject men, marriage, family, or the beautiful responsibility of building a home.
Quite the opposite.
I believe in marriage. I love family. I love to love. I believe there is something beautiful about a man and a woman coming together to build a family, when that relationship is embraced with maturity and responsibility spiritually, mentally, psychologically, emotionally, and socially.
A healthy marriage can be wholesome and beneficial to both individuals and to the children they raise.
But I also believe that a woman should not lose herself because she got married.
Many of us were raised to believe that everything begins and ends with marriage.
So when a marriage ends, whether through death, divorce, abandonment, betrayal, or circumstances beyond our control, some women feel as though their entire identity has disappeared.
A husband dies, and their world dies with him.
A marriage ends, and they believe their future has ended.
A husband cheats, and they begin questioning their own worth.
Someone makes an allegation about their husband, and they become consumed by something they did not do and may not even know to be true.
But listen carefully:
What another person does does not become your identity.
His choices define his choices.
They do not define you.
His failure is not your failure.
His betrayal is not your betrayal.
His death is not your death.
You did not become less of a person because someone you loved changed, left, failed, or died.
Imagine that you had never met that person.
Would you say that God had no purpose for your life?
Would you say you could never become what God intended you to become?
Of course not.
So why should the departure of another person cause you to abandon yourself?
You still have a life.
You still have purpose.
You still have children who need you, people who love you, gifts that need to be developed, work that needs to be done, prayers that need to be prayed, and a God who knew you before you ever met the person you married.
And now, here is something that surprised me when I read 1 Corinthians 7.
For those who have been taught that everything in marriage belongs to the man, Paul presents something remarkably mutual:
“The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife.”
Likewise also the husband.
I stopped there.
Because that is mutuality.
Marriage is not simply about what a woman owes a man.
It is also about what a man owes a woman.
Paul speaks about mutual giving, mutual consideration, mutual responsibility, and even mutual agreement when husband and wife temporarily abstain from intimacy for prayer and fasting.
That is beautiful.
And it makes me think about something else.
There are seasons when a couple may need to step back from certain things, seek God’s face, pray, fast, examine themselves, and ask God to restore what needs restoration.
The purpose should not be punishment.
It should be God.
It should be healing.
It should be understanding.
It should be restoration.
It should be becoming better individually and together.
And when Scripture speaks about returning to one another, it reminds us that marriage is not merely physical. There is also companionship, friendship, spiritual unity, emotional connection, communication, and the daily decision to care for one another.
Prayer is particularly important in a home.
Not only because we want God to answer our prayers, but because prayer creates a pattern of turning toward God together.
I remember a time when I was leaving the house and one of my sons stopped me.
“Mommy, we forgot to pray.”
I told him we could pray in the car.
We did.
And something beautiful happened.
It became a habit.
Later, he would remind me.
“Mommy, can we pray again in the car?”
I had not sat him down and given him a lecture about developing a prayer life.
He had simply watched us pray, participated in it, and learned the pattern.
That is what children do.
They watch.
They absorb.
They remember.
They remind us.
Sometimes the child reminds the parent.
Sometimes the spouse reminds the spouse.
And sometimes the Holy Spirit gives us that quiet nudge because we have already established the pattern.
So yes, I believe in marriage.
I believe in family.
I believe in love.
But I also believe in identity.
A woman can love her husband without disappearing into him.
She can love her children without abandoning herself.
She can grieve without surrendering her future.
She can experience betrayal without becoming the betrayal.
She can experience loss without losing her purpose.
And she can walk through the changing seasons of life knowing that her identity existed before the relationship and will continue beyond the relationship.
Because ultimately, our deepest identity does not come from being someone’s wife.
It comes from knowing whose we are.
And perhaps that is why this little passage in 1 Corinthians 7 caught my attention:
“The husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife: and likewise also the wife.”
There is something powerful about that word:
Likewise.
Mutual.
Reciprocal.
Together.
Not one disappearing into the other.
Not one becoming the entire identity of the other.
Two people choosing to love, give, pray, grow, and walk toward God together.
And when they need to step back for a season, may they use that season wisely.
May they seek God’s face.
May they examine their hearts.
May they pray.
May they heal.
May they listen.
And when they come together again, may they come back with greater understanding than when they stepped away.
His body is his responsibility, and my body is mine. Yet in marriage, Paul teaches us to give ourselves to one another in mutual love and consideration.
That is not the loss of identity.
That is the beauty of two people learning how to love without losing themselves.
By Joan A.Roberts
Blogger:Divineaccolades.com
