ix. A Sense of ‘Should’

If there was ever a word to be banished from the English language due to its disservice to mankind, it’s ‘should’.

‘Should’ is a little menace that sits on your shoulder and pipes up every now and then to tell you what you ought to be doing, who you ought to be, and whether or not you are on-track with life. I’m pretty sure half the reason I frequently feel exhausted is down to my sense of “I should…”. Mine likes to tell me that I should have achieved more by now. I should be more interesting and knowledgeable as a person. And I should definitely say yes to hundreds of things, even if I’m running myself ragged, rather than say no and give myself time to rest.

Sound familiar? ‘Should’ is basically a big emotional stick that we beat ourselves over the head with. And beyond the worldly pressures it piles on us, the sense of ‘should’ can also sneak into our thoughts and feelings about relationships; “I should feel chemistry with my partner every day”, “I should feel happy and in love all the time”, or, in my experience, “I should never be doubting my feelings this much”.

Where does all this ‘should’ pressure come from?!

What this sense of ‘should’ is really evoking in us, in all of these scenarios, is the belief that there is one right path to take – or otherwise lots of potential wrong paths. It makes us feel that a decision is either a right decision or a wrong decision, and someone is either a right partner (THE right partner) or a wrong partner; and you should, apparently, have no doubts at all if you’ve chosen correctly.

But the truth is that ‘should’, in this pressurising, black and white, right or wrong context, is utterly draining. When it comes to relationships, it’s also really incredibly unhelpful; there simply isn’t one ‘right’ person for each of us, and questioning your feelings does not make something ‘wrong’. The thinking of ‘should’ shackles us in the spiral of uncertainty and anxiety – the complete opposite of Jesus.

Jesus came to free us, and so I reckon he is pretty keen that we shed those shackles. John 8 verse 36 tells us “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” and Psalm 119 verse 54 reminds us “I will walk about in freedom, for I have sought out your precepts.

That’s freedom to be following where God leads us, rather than the ‘should’-versions of our own worldly plans, and free to choose a partner without needing to worry that they are definitely Mr or Mrs Right.

Freedom, not pressure. Peace, not fear. That’s his light yolk – let’s swap our ‘shoulds’ for that.

viii. Climate Change

“Today’s forecast is sunshine and showers”.

I often think my day-to-day married life is a bit like the weather. Sometimes the sun is shining – HF and I are gelling happily, marriage is fun and we feel like serving and make sacrifices for each other.

And then sometimes, often without warning, it rains. In fact sometimes the clouds part and it absolutely lobs it down, and all I can see ahead is the rumbles of thunderstorms and sudden strikes of disagreement-fuelled lightening.

Like the climate, my feelings – and subsequently the forecast ahead – fluctuate throughout the day and can change from one extreme to the other, often seemingly for little or no reason. I’m constantly astonished at how things can be going so swimmingly one moment and turn so easily to frustration or resentment the next.

This, a quick poll of my friends tells me, appears to be a pretty normal experience of married life. Daily stresses, strains, worries and – I’m sorry to say it, ladies – hormones, coupled with the closeness of marriage can create the perfect environment for an unintended marital storm.

For those of us more anxious-inclined, the stormy weathers that marriage can bring can be particularly distressing. If you’re already struggling with intrusive thoughts and anxious wonderings, the less sunny times are likely to be seriously spikey moments.

So, what do you with feelings like that? How do we ride the waves of marriage through both the calm and turbulent times?

As a marriage-amateur, this is something I’m still learning. But I think the key might lie in the way we respond to the inevitable good and bad times. When HF is driving me up the wall, I could fall down the rabbit-hole and interpret it as a sign that my anxieties were correct – that maybe we weren’t meant to be after all. OR, I can insist on banishing those lies from my mind and acknowledge that all marriages have ups and down, sunshine and clouds. I could get angry and rack up a mental list of things that annoy me about my husband, or I can decide to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. I can follow Jesus’s example: grace.

So even when the storms brew, which they inevitably will, I’m thankful that God’s grace is sufficient – enough for me, and enough for my marriage.

vi. The Choice

Many years ago when my brother got engaged, I remember him telling me that he didn’t always feel in love with his fiancé. “Love isn’t a feeling, but a choice”, he told me.

At the time, I thought it was the most unromantic thing I’d ever heard. I distinctly remember thinking that, unlike him, love for me would be so absolutely blindingly obvious that it’d never have to be a ‘choice’. Love would choose me.

Years later, and it’s ironic to find myself repeating my brother’s words as advice to an engaged friend. Only now, after years of my own marriage, I can see what he meant.

There are times when feelings of love rise up easily; when things are going well, when you’re gelling happily with your partner, or life is generally good and that positivity spills over into your relationship. And then there are times when, sometimes with no seemingly obvious explanation at all, you just do not feel it.

Now I know that I love HF, but I can promise you that knowledge is not based on a barometer of my consistent feelings towards him. Yes, a lot of the time I feel happily ‘in love’ and all is well. But there are also many times when my love-radar is on holiday, and I don’t feel particularly enamored at all; indeed sometimes my dominant emotion towards him is more along the lines of irritation than anything else.

At those times, choosing to love someone feels hard. It can also lead to all kinds of anxious thoughts, questioning whether it’s time to throw in the towel, or taking it as a sign that you made the wrong choice in your partner. So what do you do when, in the words of Top Gun, “you’ve lost that loving feeling”?

Well, let’s consider another area of life where feelings come and go: faith.

There are times when we feel fired up for God, willing to go the extra mile for the gospel and to lay down our lives for it. At other times we don’t feel it so much; life plods along and we might continue on in our prayers and church-life through more of a sleepy haze. But we still choose – we choose to persevere in our faith even when we’re not spiritually on fire, when we’re tired or sick, and even when we don’t feel like God is near. We choose to believe, to know, that he is there and worth pursuing. Faith, like love, is a choice. 

Probably one of the most destructive modern concepts is that falling in love just happens to you; like falling into a puddle. Films and novels can have us believe that unless we’re constantly skipping along together hand-in-hand and goey-eyed, that there’s something wrong. ‘Love shouldn’t be hard’, culture tells us; ‘it’s easy when it’s right’.

But that is utter nonsense. Like with faith, we have to keep choosing love – especially when we don’t feel like it. That’s what makes a relationship, whether with a partner or with God, go the distance. It’s when we stop choosing it that it stops working.

Ironically, I think this is when we see love at its most beautiful. When it’s difficult to love someone; when it doesn’t seem like there’s much in it for us, but we choose to love the other person anyway despite them being tired, stressed, grumpy, or ill – that’s the gritty, hard, beautiful love that Jesus is all about.

And even more ironically it’s usually when we show love, in spite of our feelings, that it really blooms. Loving actions often lead to loving feelings; a joyful side effect.

It turns out that my brother is quite the romantic after all.

iv. Real Love

Before I met my husband, I would have told you that love is “fireworks”, or something similarly Disney-esque. I also would have told you that I’d never settle for anything less than real love.

And then I started dating HF. He was kind, godly, committed, and we had fun together, but there were no fireworks. My heart did not set alight when he walked into the room, and when he looked at me I didn’t feel like he was looking straight into my soul, like we had some deep soul-to-soul connection.

I’m going to be totally honest; these are all things I have felt in the past. I have felt that powerful connection and chemistry, which I’d previously understood to be ‘love’. For a time, it caused me to deeply question my relationship with HF – I was constantly on the watch for how ‘sparky’ I felt our conversation was over dinner, and would assess and analyse my feelings every time I saw him; usually disappointed not to find my heart all a-flutter.

But then I had this realisation; that chemistry and real love are not the same thing.

Chemistry is just lust, and lust is longing. Neither of these things actually have very much to do with love. We feel longing when there’s a chase – when you don’t know if someone is really committed to you, and when you have to prove or improve yourself to try and win his or her affections. It’s powerful and compelling, but it’s not based on who someone really is – rather, it’s infatuation.

The reason I didn’t feel butterflies at the sound of HF’s voice, was because I wasn’t infatuated with him. Unlike the guys before him, I wasn’t head-over-heels and wrapped in an intoxicating “in love” feeling, because unlike them, he was committed. He didn’t make my heart skip a beat, but he also wasn’t an always-slightly-unavailable jerk. There was no superficial chase; he was just kind, honouring and loving. Non-Hollywood, non-drama.

Don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing wrong with feeling butterflies and deep attraction to your partner – on the contrary, these are good, enjoyable blessings. But the sticky issue is when we equate those feelings with real love. Some may never experience a strong feeling of chemistry with their partner, or some may feel it in the beginning and have it fade away over time, but it’s what’s left over that really counts. The foundation; the solid ground.

I had thought that an absence of fireworks meant ‘settling’. I now know that the passion stuff is just the fancy packaging; it looks good on the surface, but you have to peel it away to see what’s really inside. Real love doesn’t need ribbons and wrapping – it’s the good stuff in the middle; the stuff that lasts a lifetime.

And I’m so thankful to God for not letting me settle for anything less.

iii. Gut Feelings

Oh gut feelings. How you torment me so!

From which career path to take, to whom to marry, I’m the kind of person that relies quite heavily on my gut. People say it all the time; “listen to your heart”, “trust your gut and you can’t go far wrong”, and my personal dreaded favourite, “when you know, you just know”.

What is this ‘gut feeling’, and why do we offer each other advice so readily to listen to it, and especially to rely on it as some kind of psychic guide when it comes to making major life decisions? Can you ever ‘just know’, really?

When I got engaged to HF, my gut went on overdrive: “this is wrong” it told me, constantly, to the point of making me physically ill. If you’re going to make a decision as monumentous as getting married, that is the right time to be paying attention to your gut instinct, surely? And, if you don’t ‘just know’, then perhaps it’s just not right.

Except what I wish I could go back and tell myself now, is that your ‘heart’ and ‘gut’ feelings do not know the future. They do not have magical powers, and they can’t tell you whether your decision will lead to success or failure, happiness or heartache. What they point to instead, is fear.

My gut/heart/inner-self or whatever you want to call it, was so terrified of making a ‘mistake’ (having had it ingrained by every Hollywood and Disney movie known to man that such a thing is possible), that it started waving a big red flag as soon as HF proposed and the possibility of being hurt was trebled.

In some cases, there are reasons to listen to these feelings – if there’s an underlying issue such as conflicting views on faith or having a family, for example, and certainly if you’re in a hurtful or abusive relationship in any way. These situations need prayerful consideration. But if it’s something like “the way he chews his food really bothers me” or “I don’t feel the same spark as I did with that hard-to-get/unavailable/uncommitted ex”… then perhaps it’s more a case of the fear-factor.

The other tricky issue, as a Christian, is deciphering whether or not these niggles could actually be a prompt from the Holy Spirit. In the Bible there are plenty of examples of people being convicted about things by the Spirit, and the apostle Paul writes about his conscience “bearing witness in the Holy Spirit” . When your gut is prodding you, it can be hard – and highly anxiety-inducing – to be sure whether it’s fear or God speaking.

But here’s the helpful distinction for the anxious person: the language of the Holy Spirit is not panic.

The God of peace doesn’t fill you with an overwhelming sense of anxiety as a way of telling you not to marry someone; especially if that person is a kind, loving and good match for you. Instead, we need to look to what the anxiety is pointing to inside – what fears are dwelling underneath the veneer of feeling “this isn’t right”.

So the next time your gut pipes up with its ‘sense of knowing’, pay attention, because it’s telling you something. But just be cautious about how you read its message – when it comes to gut feelings, all is not always as it seems.

i. Lessons from a List

For our first year anniversary, I gave my husband a big piece of paper with a list of a hundred things I love about him written on it. “The Love List” seemed fitting, since paper is meant to be the theme for first year gifts, but also because it marked a significant turning point; I’d finally stopped worrying that I’d made the most colossal mistake of my life.

What plagued me through our first year of marriage, and most of our engagement too, was this haunting & relentless question: how can you be sure you’ve chosen the right person? In short; how do you know you really love someone?

Even though I knew my HF (Husband-Friend) was a great match for me, and the type of good, kind, gentle godly man I’d always hoped to marry, those questions niggled at the back of my mind throughout a year of dating. By the time we’d gotten engaged, my mind was in overdrive; analysing my feelings every second of the day and constantly questioning whether he was “The One”. I asked my friends, my family, and prayed and prayed for a sign from God, desperate to be absolutely sure. When I still found myself questioning after 3 months of marriage, it confirmed my worst nightmare; I must have married the wrong person.

But here’s the thing. While I was fixating obsessively about how I was feeling, and how fulfilled our marriage was making me, I totally missed the main point. Marriage, it turns out, is not for me – and it’s not designed to fill me up. Contrary to what we’ve been conditioned to believe (thanks, Disney!), HF is not supposed to be my knight in shining armour, who swoops in to “complete” me. That’s a big God-shaped hole right there, that no marriage could ever fill.

And whilst I was so busy trying to work out if HF was my “soulmate”, I didn’t see all the amazing blessings of our marriage in the day-to-day of doing life together. Not the Hollywood version of love, not the butterflies and rainbows, but the real thing; the friendship, the companionship, the laughs and the cries, and the silly little things that make us “us”. The real life version; the God-planned version.

That’s where The Love List started; a year’s worth of things to be grateful for, along with a big lesson – I suspect a lifelong one – about what real love is about.

If I could sum up what I’ve learned so far, it would be this: love is not just a feeling. Love is an action, and a choice. Love is preceded by commitment, not the other way around. And the measure of real love – the thing I’d prayed for so many times – turns out to be how much you give of it; no matter how you feel. All part of God’s perfect plan.

Here’s to another hundred.