Tag: values

My girlfriend asked for flowers; I didn’t marry her

Alice was lovely. Attractive. A vivacious personality. Very able at performing or speaking before audiences. Great voice for radio broadcasting. Always curious, always seeking the truth. Clever. Christian faith. And – of high importance – enthusiastic about me.

But I didn’t marry Alice. Our romance lasted for one year, but I suspect we both knew after eight or nine months that it wasn’t going to be forever.

Alice and I met when we found ourselves on the same ‘summer mission’ team, organising games and activities for youngsters, hoping that through friendship and fun we’d communicate Christian faith. Alice wasn’t just good at almost everything the team did, she was very good. She could sing, perform drama, give an address, play sport, counsel troubled youngsters. It was easy to be attracted to her.

I had no idea she was attracted to me. Until one day when Alice got upset during a team gathering, and asked for people to leave so she could resolve something one way or the other. I headed for the door with everyone else, only to be told by a team member: “Don’t be an idiot. Sit down. You’re the one Alice needs to talk to”. Turned out she needed to know if I had feelings for her. Oh! How oblivious had I been? But I must have answered her question by saying something positive, and so we became a couple.

We were both in the early years of university study. We’d sit together in the library poring over our books or writing our assignments. We’d go for walks along Edinburgh’s broad streets, perhaps stopping for coffee in a café. Occasionally Alice would accompany me on a Sunday morning if I was preaching in a nearby church, and I’d find a part for her to play in the service. She was brilliant at reading or doing a solo drama. Congregations loved her.

For a while I thought I loved her too. Alice was interesting, fun, bright, spontaneous, creative, with bags of ambition. We had so many good times it was hard not to think that she and I could share life together.

Just once – after about six months – we talked about a long-term future. And Alice said, “I’m more in love with the idea of being engaged than being engaged to you”. Wow. Ten out of ten for honesty, Alice, but not in the least encouraging.

That moment should have been a huge red flag about the prospects for our relationship. But we’d got used to being together, studying together, going together to parties or to events where either of us was taking part. So the relationship continued.

Two things finally made me realise Alice and I would not have a shared future.

I’d borrowed a car so Alice and I could spend the day together away from the city. It was a good day. But, as I drove back to Edinburgh where both of us lived, I became aware that I was having to think up subjects for us to talk about. No longer were we having easy conversations, nor were we comfortable with silence. It seemed we were no longer happy just to be together.

Then we came near to the date of Alice’s birthday. With an apology, I told her that I needed to be away at that time. Alice wasn’t too upset because, after all, “you can still buy flowers and have them sent to me”. That thought had never entered my head. Not only did I not have money to send Alice flowers, I had never imagined that she’d expect flowers. I’d assumed I would give her a modest gift, but flowers? As well? Really? Yes, really.

At that moment, I realised we were people with many different expectations. We enjoyed being a couple but our lives weren’t meshing. We were not a great fit. The real issue wasn’t about flowers or no flowers. But that difference of expectations and uncomfortable conversations revealed that we were not close in the areas of life where the deepest intimacy and bonding really, really matter.

Alice and I were still a couple for a few more weeks, and then, exactly one year from the day we began our relationship, we talked honestly about how we felt, and the romance ended there and then.

No two relationships are the same because people are different. They differ in their values, expectations, desires, ambitions. We are all unique, so what fulfils, pleases, satisfies or makes me happy may be wholly unlike what you want.

However, what follows are seven snippets of advice which I believe are important for any strong relationship. I have not included ‘being in love’ as one of them. That’s for several reasons: 1) Not all cultures prioritise love the way we do in the westernised world; 2) What ‘being in love’ means is not as simple as novels and films suggest; 3) For me, true love reveals itself in what someone does, and much of what I’ve written below is exactly about that.

Attraction matters, but attraction isn’t always what we think it is. Alice was attractive, and amazingly she was attracted to me too. But good looks were never the highest priority for me. I’d felt drawn to other girls who were simply lovely to know, people with warm hearts, kind actions, bright ideas, an inner energy, and especially those who cared far more about others than themselves. Someone with deep inner qualities was always ‘attractive’ to me.

It takes time to recognise values but that’s never wasted time. For me a sizeable outlay on flowers didn’t make sense. Nor would I shop in high-end stores, or eat in expensive restaurants. I’d also have struggled to be close to someone who didn’t value reading, or friendships, or family. I was always interested too in a person’s goals or deepest desires. Were those about a great career? Or earning lots of money? Or going on luxury holidays each year? Did they value their neighbours and friends? Would they want children who enjoyed books, played sport or took other exercise, and appreciated nature? Not for a moment do I imagine anyone should set out on a first date armed with a check-list about the other person’s life goals. What a romance killer that would be. But as a couple grow closer, they will discover each other’s values. Are those values compatible? Or are they in a relationship where differences are suppressed? Misaligned values don’t just go away.

Long term relationships are built on a foundation of commitment Of course there should be attraction. And of course there should be strong feelings. I remember Bill, at one time my Australian landlord, telling me how he’d drive every morning past his fiancé’s  house just to see her smile and wave. But excitement and enthusiasm were not enough. They married, but 15 years later they were divorced. We’re persuaded by Hollywood films and romantic novels that John and Janet fall in love at first sight, and live happily ever after. What those stories miss out is the hard graft of building a strong bond, one that doesn’t fail when hard times come (which they always do). If all each of us has is a strong attraction then, when the years pass and we turn into old ‘wrinklies’, who will still love us?

A Don Francisco song describes feelings that have gone like a river run dry, and emotions have vanished that once held a thrill, but: ‘Love is not a feeling; It’s an act of your will’. That song is right. Real love is more than attraction and more than feelings, it’s a decision – a decision that no matter what we will be committed to each other.

Respect for each other In my late teens I bought a readable and helpful book called ‘I Married You’ by Walter Trobisch. It meant a lot to me at that stage of life. The section I remember to this day was called ‘Six tests of love’. One of those tests Trobisch called The respect test. Here’s what he wrote:

‘There is no real love without respect, without being able to look up to the other one.

‘A girl may admire a boy when she watches him play soccer and score all the goals. But if she asks herself the question: “Do I want this boy to be the father of my children?” very often the answer will be in the negative.

‘A boy may admire a girl when he sees her dancing. But if he asks himself the question: “Do I want this girl to be the mother of my children?” she may look very different to him.

‘Our third test question is: Do we really have enough respect for each other? Am I proud of my partner?’[1]

Beth and Dave came to me for pre-marriage counselling. They seemed ideally suited. At an appropriate moment I asked them: “Do you truly respect each other?” Dave nodded, and said “Of course!” Beth did not nod. There was an awkward silence before she turned to Dave and said “I don’t respect you. I wish I did, but I don’t”. Dave was shocked. Neither wanted to talk more about what lay behind Beth’s answer, but I suspect each of them knew. Something wasn’t right in Dave’s life, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Did they get married? Yes, they did. And soon they moved away and I lost touch. I still wonder if they resolved the respect issue, because, if they didn’t, their marriage will have been a struggle.

A couple can’t be rivals Gerry was a pastor but his wife Kate wished she was. At that time (not now) their denomination did not allow women to be pastors, but Kate had felt called and gifted for the role. So, unable to live her dream, she chose her next best thing by marrying Gerry who was in training for ministry. Gerry also had a sense of call but his gifting was nothing like Kate’s. He finished his training, and a church invited him to be their pastor. At the event to install him to the role, Gerry spoke hesitantly for five minutes, and then Kate spoke confidently for twenty minutes. Gerry and Kate truly cared for each other – their marriage was no sham – but there was an inner tension about who could or should do the work to which both felt called. Tension between a couple is never a good thing.

A strong relationship needs ‘electricity’ Paul – a pastor in his mid-30s – felt that by now he should be married. Most of Paul’s congregation were young adults, many not married, so Paul knew he had a great prospect pool. But he had no idea about how to find his ideal wife, so he proceeded in what he thought was a logical way. He wrote out a list of the qualities he wanted in a wife – entries like his future wife should be attractive, intelligent, loving, homely, and with a desire for children. With his list done, Paul identified every young woman in his church who met his criteria. He narrowed down the ‘possibles’ until there was just one candidate – Helen. He invited Helen to have coffee, and followed up by taking her to dinner. After two months of dating Paul proposed marriage, and Helen accepted. Most of the church members were thrilled. Paul and Helen seemed ideal for each other. But less than three months later Paul broke off the engagement. Gently, I asked Paul what went wrong. He described his ‘qualities list’, how he’d chosen Helen and eventually proposed to her. But, Paul said, soon after that they realised there was a problem. “There simply wasn’t real electricity between us. We were attracted to each other, but there was no spark, no excitement, no deep desire in either of us. We simply weren’t in love, certainly not a love that would last a lifetime.”

Paul’s wants-list method of wife-seeking was inadequate and inappropriate. A woman is much more than her individual parts, beliefs, desires and qualities. That was no way to find a soul-mate. Thankfully Paul and Helen realised that in time.

A strong relationship needs more than ‘electricity’ In an earlier blog post, I wrote about commitment. Here’s part of what I said:

Years ago, I spent two weeks with a church in Santa Monica, near Los Angeles, and got to know the young adults there. One evening, after all the pizza had been eaten, we started talking about relationships and I was asked, ‘Alistair, what does “commitment” mean? We don’t understand it.’

I knew that none of the group were currently married (some had been), and many of them had lived through the divorce of their parents. Perhaps their backgrounds explained the question.

They were all dedicated movie watchers (we weren’t far from Hollywood), and many films included the romantic line ‘I have feelings for you…’ So I began with that concept of love, and explained that of course love involves feelings, but that can’t be all. Lasting love isn’t just a feeling but a decision. It’s the deep and serious decision to love someone through good times and bad times no matter what.

In other words, I told them, to love someone is a choice, one of the toughest but most wonderful choices you can ever make. That’s what commitment means.

From: How a motorcycle crash changed my life (but not in the way you think) https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/

Of course attraction matters. But if attraction is all there is, then what happens to a relationship if life becomes difficult and dark?

Fay was a saint because she lived out promises to love ‘for better or for worse’ through many hard years. She’d married John just before World War II began, and, before long, John was conscripted into the army. For a long time he was stationed at army bases in the UK, and they saw each other when he had weekend leave passes. But those passes stopped in 1944. The allied forces were preparing for D-Day – the invasion of mainland Europe against the Nazi occupying powers. John landed on the Normandy beaches with his fellow-soldiers. They fought their way inland, men falling to machine gun fire on either side of John. It was day three when a mortar shell landed near to him, and John was blasted 30 feet through the air. He was badly wounded in his head, arm, chest and legs. Medics rushed him to a field hospital for emergency care and soon after he was evacuated back to a hospital in the UK. When Fay saw him she was shocked: his face had deep scars, one arm was nearly useless, his body needed several operations, and a leg was so badly broken he’d never walk again without aid. Fay never wavered. Though John was hospitalised far from home, she visited constantly. Eventually he was discharged, though several more operations were needed later. Fay cared constantly for her husband. She helped him wash himself. She supported him as he learned to walk with a crutch. Sometimes he’d fall and Fay helped him get up. John couldn’t get any ordinary job, but Fay eked out the small pay she got for a few hours of housekeeping, plus a ‘war wounded’ pension awarded to John. Somehow Fay made ends meet. Day after weary day she looked after John as faithfully as any wife could. Not only did she help make his body as strong as it could be, she built up his esteem so he knew he was still important, and gave him a good life. She did all of that for 35 years. And then John died. Some thought Fay would feel relieved her burden of care was over. Fay never had that thought even once; she wished only that she’d had 35 more years to share life with John.

That’s commitment. And if commitment is not the foundation of a deep relationship, it’ll never be more than a shadow of what it should be.

I’m going to stop here other than one last important point.

Why else did I not marry Alice? Because I met Alison, who not only fulfilled everything I’ve written about here, but who loved me and mysteriously but marvellously drew an overwhelming and lifelong love from me for her.

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What is missing from this blog post is mention of ‘shared faith’, having both your lives centred in the same belief. In our case, that faith is in God as understood by Christians. I’ll write about ‘Where is your life centred?’ as soon as I can.

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If this blog post has been useful, you might find these interesting and helpful too:

https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/  (the post mentioned earlier in the text) and https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/27/

[1] I Married You was first published in 1971 by Inter-Varsity Press. It has gone through many reprints, and is still available for purchase – the latest publisher is listed as Quiet Waters Publications. The Six Tests of Love are: The sharing test; The strength test; The respect test; The habit test; The quarrel test; The time test. Trobisch adds a final comment: “Sex is no test of love” (pages 89-92). Walter and his wife Ingrid worked for many years in Africa, and I Married You is based on lectures which the couple gave in a large African city. It is still very relevant.

How do we make our biggest decisions?

We don’t make many really big decisions during our lives. But we do make some. Whether we’ll share our life with someone, and who that will be. Which career we’ll follow. What we believe. Our lifestyle choices. Whether we’ll have children. How we care for our health.

Matters like these are not the routine decisions of life. They’re not about choosing coffee or tea, or whether to call a friend for a chat, or if we’ll take the afternoon off to play golf, or should we take home a Pepperoni pizza or a Hawaiian pizza. We’ll probably make ordinary decisions 20 or 30 times every day, but in the whole of our lifetimes we’ll likely make less than ten major, life-changing decisions. Mostly our routine choices don’t matter significantly, but our big decisions affect everything about our lives, and maybe the lives of others too.

Here are eight principles I’ve kept in mind when making such decisions.

Principle 1  You have more time than you think

Alison and I have been house buyers several times. Early on in most of our searches we’ve found a dream house, only to be told other buyers are interested, and we need to make an immediate offer. We’ve wished we could. There can never be another house as good as this one. But circumstances prevented us acting quickly. The perfect house was sold to someone else. However, happily, later on we’ve found another house, far more perfect for us, and we were able to buy that. Those later choices were great homes for us and our family.

That’s just one kind of circumstance when people feel they must decide quickly but the early choice wouldn’t have been the right choice. There are moments for fast action, but they’re unusual. Mostly the biggest of decisions rarely need to be rushed.

Add to that an obvious truth: the bigger the decision, the greater the catastrophe if we get it wrong. The more important something is, the more time and consideration it deserves. Don’t ne hasty.

Principle 2  Don’t confuse small decisions with big decisions

Your new friends, Mary and Joe, are coming for dinner. ‘Should I serve steak?’ you ask yourself. ‘Or how about a casserole?’ Next day: ‘Perhaps they’d like fish?’ Next day: ‘What about lamb chops?’ Eventually there are ten different options, but finally one is chosen. But is it really the right one? As the day gets nearer the stress level rises, tempers get frayed, and you wish you’d never invited Joe and Mary for dinner.

What’s gone wrong here? Put simply, all the options were good. There was no ‘right one’. Mary and Joe are thrilled you’ve invited them for dinner, and as long as you don’t poison them they’ll go away believing they’ve had a lovely evening. That’s all that really mattered.

Too easily we promote ordinary decisions into matters of high importance. Alison and I now resolve a lot of things by simply asking one question: ‘Is this decision life-changing?’ Ninety nine per cent of the time what we’re considering isn’t a big deal at all. So, we make the best decision we can and get on with the things that matter much more. That works well for us.

So, second principle: Be realistic about what’s really important.

Principle 3  Think whether your decision is based on facts or feelings

If we’re making decisions about people, then of course feelings will greatly affect our choice. That’s entirely appropriate.

But emotions can intrude where they don’t belong, or at least shouldn’t dominate our decision-making. Here are two imaginary examples.

  • If we had rushed to buy a house, we’d have done it on superficial impressions and emotional reactions, such as ‘How wonderful it looks’ or ‘What a pretty area it’s in’ or ‘I’ve fallen in love with this property’. But, after moving in, we might have found roof problems, drainage problems, boiler problems, flooding problems. In fact, there could have been so many problems we’d have realised the real value of the house was about half of what we’d paid. Falling in love with a property can mean we skip the research a responsible house-buyer should always do.
  • A job is advertised I’d long to have. The post would give me a fifty per cent salary boost, a shorter commute, and an array of fringe benefits. I’m great at interviews, and I exaggerate my skills and experience. Wonderful – I get the job. What I never studied is what the work would entail: much longer hours; boring tasks; complex issues I don’t know how to resolve. Within weeks it’s obvious to me and to my bosses I’m out of my depth. I hate the job, and with encouragement from management I resign. Longing and ambition propelled me into that job, but I never assessed what doing that work would be like. A costly, painful mistake.

The bigger the decision, the greater the need to think through all relevant issues. Emotions or longings can be like a tide that sweeps us along, not necessarily in the right direction.

Principle 4  Push doors gently

I’ve known many people so driven by desire or ambition, they don’t probe opportunities carefully. They rush forward headlong. Instead of pushing doors gently, they kick them down and march through. Almost always that’s unwise.

There are two opposite temptations when faced with a big decision. One is to be so nervous we never act. The other is to be so determined, we plough forward ignoring any dangers. Determination is a quality, except when it controls all our thinking.

I read the story of Sally who got into serious financial trouble with an unwise investment. She’d been told that if she’d buy shares immediately in a new start-up, within weeks she’d be a wealthy woman. She cashed in all her savings and then borrowed even more, and bought the shares. For a few days they soared in value, so Sally took out another loan and invested that as well. Two weeks later the start-up failed. It declared bankruptcy. Sally’s shares were worthless, her money completely gone. All Sally was left with was a debt it would take many years to clear. A friend asked Sally why she had not sought advice from a qualified financial advisor. Sally’s answer: “I was so sure I was investing in a winner, I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it”. That was a very expensive mistake.

At times the temptation to fulfil an ambition is so high we won’t let anything stand in our way. Frankly, that’s about as sensible as imagining that running fast through a minefield lessens the chances of being blown up.

Move forward, but don’t rush.

Principle 5  Where you excel may be a guide to what you should do

What I’m about to write under this heading is an imperfect guide to rightness, but should nevertheless have a place in our thinking.

In short, I’d encourage you to consider what you can do that most others can’t, because, at least in part, that’ll guide you towards a right decision.

Here’s a little of my story. My career beginnings were in journalism. After training – including shorthand and typing(!) – I was a reporter for The Scotsman and a sub-editor for its Edinburgh daytime paper the Evening News. I was a good journalist, reporting on important stories and trusted to cover late-breaking news just before the presses rolled. I enjoyed the work, and imagined a wonderful career in journalism.

Then Christian faith came alive in me in a way it had never been real before. I handed my life and my career over to God. It seemed to me that being a Christian in the world of journalism was important. But before too long I realised it wasn’t right for me.

Two factors helped me see that. The first, and certainly the most important, was a growing sense of calling into Christian ministry. How I sensed that is complicated and personal. Put simply, I felt that calling was God’s will for my life. And the one thing you can’t say to God is ‘No, I won’t do that!’

The other factor is more mundane but not unimportant. I was a good journalist, but alongside me were some great journalists. Not all my colleagues were great, of course, but a few were truly brilliant writers. By then, I’d begun to do some preaching and found a gift I’d never imagined I had. I worked hard at preparing sermons, and then words flowed in front of a congregation. People were challenged and helped. Churches asked me to return and preach again. I’d found that I didn’t have a unique contribution to make to journalism, but did have one to make to Christian ministry. And that’s what I dedicated my life to doing.

I’m cautious about saying ‘Do what you’re best at’ because it’s possible to be very good at doing something very wrong. History has plenty examples of bad people doing bad things brilliantly.

So, finding what you’re near-uniquely gifted at doing isn’t an infallible guide, but it can be a pointer in the right direction.

Principle 6  Take account of how others are affected by your decisions

For many years the city of Aberdeen, in the north east of Scotland, has been the European capital of the oil industry. The city is not large but its airport is one of the busiest in the whole UK, its numbers boosted by dozens of helicopter flights to and from North Sea oil rigs. Among the employed members of the Aberdeen church where I was senior pastor, about two-thirds owed their jobs to oil.

One consequence was that many who joined the church moved on after about three years. They didn’t leave for another church; they were sent elsewhere by their oil-related employer. Management would be moved to another administrative office and engineers to a new location of oil exploration. All of them made it clear to me that they couldn’t refuse. Following their careers meant being at the disposal of their companies. They could be sent anywhere, even to the other side of the world. (Years later I was in Indonesia and visited former church members by then living in Jakarta.)

But here’s my point. These changes didn’t affect only the employee. They had a profound effect also on spouses and children. Each transition meant ending relationships not long formed. They’d form new bonds somewhere else, yet always knowing they’d soon have to let those go too. I felt especially for the children who constantly changed schools and lost friends.

Alison and I made only one major move while our children were young. It was challenging for them. There were times of tears. Thankfully we stayed in the new place for many years, which did allow them to form long-term friendships.

Faced with major decisions, it’s thoughtful and loving to ask: ‘Who will pay the biggest price for this choice?’ Often the cost will not be borne by the one making that choice.

Principle 7  Let trusted friends advise you

In November 2021 I wrote this in a blog post on ‘Friendships’:

I took a deep breath, then asked a question no friend expects. Tom’s answer could affect the rest of my life. ‘I’m planning to ask Alison to marry me. You know both of us well. Am I doing the right thing?’

Tom looked startled. He’d never imagined being asked such a question. But he didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course you’re doing the right thing. You should have asked her ages ago.’

I laughed, feeling grateful and relieved in equal measure. I wasn’t inviting Tom to make my marriage decision for me, but as a deep and close friend his support meant a lot. 

Thankfully Alison said ‘yes’ and, as well as being my wife, she’s been the closest friend of my whole life. But Tom probably came next. Sadly, Tom died several years ago but he knew me through and through, and I’d have trusted him with my life. (https://occasionallywise.com/2021/11/06/a-question-no-friend-expects/)

A real friend, someone you’d trust through and through, is a wonderful resource when faced with a major decision. A truth I’ve learned is this: ‘Someone who loves you only a little will tell you what you want to hear; someone who loves you a lot will risk telling you what you don’t want to hear’.

Principle 8  Stay true to your ultimate values and goals

This principle should underpin all the others. What matters, what really matters, the most for us? When we know the answer to that – our values and goals – we have a guide for all our big decisions.

  • Is this how I should be spending a large sum of money?
  • Is this relationship one that I’ll always value?
  • Is this choice taking me toward or away from my life goals?
  • Does this behaviour fit with my deepest values?

An old idea is that all of us have a certain amount of treasure, and we should spend it wisely. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. What we’ve spent will never be replaced. It would be sad to get near to life’s end and to realise we’d frittered away our treasure on things that haven’t had value.

Every time we make a big decision we spend treasure. Each decision, therefore, should fit with our very most important values and goals.

Closing

My last word here is that we should realise it’s a privilege to have choices at all. Many people in the world have few choices other than to work in the fields or sell in the market in hope of earning enough money to buy food for just that day. If we have options far greater than those, that’s an enormous privilege. May our biggest decisions be made thoughtfully, wisely, and bring great benefit to us and to others.

Values and friendship

Gail and Simon said they wanted me to conduct their wedding service in two weeks time. I knew them but hadn’t been aware they’d been seeing each other.

‘How long have you been going out together?’ I asked

‘Three weeks,’ Simon said.

I took a deep breath. They’d dated for three weeks, and now wanted to get married in another two. At any time with any people, that would give a pastor pause for thought. But I also knew two other things about Gail and Simon. The first was that neither of them were without a load of troubles in their lives. The second was that Gail was twelve years older than Simon, not a disqualifying factor but I didn’t have strong hopes they’d have thought through issues related to their age difference.

I didn’t refuse to marry them, but did make it clear it couldn’t happen in just another two weeks. They were very unhappy, telling me it was my ‘job’ to marry them. I explained gently my services were not theirs to command, and I must fulfil my role as a pastor in accordance with the trust the congregation had given me and what I believed was right with God.

They left, but not before saying they’d find someone else to marry them in two weeks.

In less than two weeks they’d split up.

Gail’s and Simon’s relationship seemed to have little going for it, and the fact that it ended almost as quickly as it began was no surprise. But I have been surprised with other couples, like Amy and Vic who had a strong and loving relationship others might envy. But not so strong or loving after ten years when it ended.

Relationships never come with guarantees. But there are factors that support and help a relationship to thrive. Love is, of course, foundational. But you can’t live in a foundation. You must build on it. And what’s built, and how it’s built, determines if love will grow and flourish. Real happiness in a relationship is not an accident. It has to be built.

I’ve been identifying factors that help, and in this third (and last) in a short series, I’ll set down two more building blocks that Alison and I believe have been important.

Values When very different people get on well, we say ‘opposites attract’. Yet when two similar people do well, we don’t say ‘similarity attracts’. Personally I don’t give much credence to the ‘opposites’ v ‘similarity’ theory.

What does seem to matter are values – how great a value we place on things that truly matter to us. Relationships can work with differences in these areas, but the greater the differences the greater the potential strain on the relationship.

I’ll give examples, but these are mine and you will have other things which, for you, are deep values.

Faith    When Sharon was fourteen, the faith she’d been taught from childhood came alive for her, and she became a committed Christian. A few years later she went to university, joined a Christian group where she met Joe and, after some time, they became a couple. He proposed, she accepted, two years later they were married, and eventually they had two children. They seemed very happy. But not entirely. One day Sharon told me that two days before their wedding Joe told her he wasn’t actually a Christian. He wasn’t sure faith had ever been real for him; it certainly wasn’t any more. Sharon had always intended to marry someone who shared her faith, but what was she to do with wedding day so imminent? She married Joe, then prayed and hoped he’d find new faith, but he never did. ‘We’re okay,’ Sharon told me, ‘but there’ll always be a gap in our lives that nothing else fills’.

Over the years many have told me of ‘the gap not filled’ because of a faith not shared. Perhaps some couples haven’t felt that tension, but I struggle to understand how faith can be central to every value and purpose of life and for that not to be the same for the person to whom you’ve dedicated your life.

Children    This sub-heading could cover several things, all related to children.

One of the biggest questions is how many? From the start Alison and I felt it right to add to our family number until we knew that more children would seriously harm the wellbeing of those we had already. We reached that point with four. We’d already met disapproval when we went past two, some suggesting that number three must surely have been a mistake. When number four was coming, several reacted ‘Oh no!’ and offered no congratulations. And Alison’s first pregnancy-related medical appointment began with a nurse who assumed we clearly didn’t understand contraception. How could anyone actually want four children?

Well, we did want four. Others may want none, one, two, three or any other number. How many they want doesn’t trouble me. What does is when couples are sharply divided on family size. Several times I’ve been told, ‘We have two children, and I want at least one more, maybe two, but my husband absolutely refuses’. Division on something so fundamental generates pain and frustration for both involved. No-one can know in advance if they’ll be able to have children, nor what family life with children will be like. But some couples admit their pre-marriage conversations about family size lasted only until their differences became uncomfortable and then they backed off. If you asked, ‘Did you talk about this?’ they’d say they had. Did they resolve it? No, and therefore they didn’t realise how different their heart-felt hopes were.

Once there are children, plenty other ‘values’ issues surface:

  • About spending time with them
  • About discipline
  • About education
  • About behaviour
  • About the role of grandparents
  • About the kind of friends they can have
  • About ambitions for the children

And so on. When parents don’t agree on values issues like these, they become pressure points in a relationship.

Money    Alison and I had very little income in our earliest years together. For seven years we had no car, our furniture was almost entirely second hand, and none of our carpets were new. The children’s clothes were castoffs from kids who’d outgrown them, or bought from charity shops. Summer after summer we never had a family vacation, until finally we got a week’s break because friends loaned us their caravan at no cost. Alison would do our budget three times to make outgoings and incomings at least distant acquaintances. We learned three important things. One, you can be happy with just a little. Two, when having one thing means not having another you value what you buy. Three, money was not a subject that divided us because our attitudes to it were aligned.

But many couples I’ve known were far from aligned about finance. One spent, the other saved. One ran up huge debts, the other begged creditors for time to pay. Some didn’t know the other was spending their money, a secret that always came out and caused great tension. Different attitudes to money can wreck a relationship.

Life goals    I was one of a team interviewing people with a sense of calling to overseas missionary work. Harry and Cathy were only in their mid twenties but especially promising: great personalities, clear thinkers, well qualified, full of faith. Everyone enthused about them. Until, that is, we interviewed Harry and Cathy individually, and those who talked with Cathy reported that they’d sensed she had reservations about being far from her family. In the final session Cathy confessed she’d always dreamed of living within only a few miles of her parents, raising her children with their support and having her parents play an integral part in their grandchildren’s lives. Harry’s dream was going overseas to serve disadvantaged and impoverished people, and Cathy had tried to make herself share his dream. But now – at the moment of decision – she couldn’t face that future. So, lovingly, the interview team advised Harry and Cathy to withdraw and find the way forward that would be right for both of them.

Sadly I met some who had squashed a conflicting dream and gone overseas. It never worked. Whether overseas or at home, it’s very hard when one is chasing a dream the other doesn’t share.

My work was always demanding: pastoring growing churches, heading up a mission agency, being president of a seminary. But Alison believed in the rightness of what I was doing as much as I did. Sometimes she’d say: ‘He holds the office, but both of us have the calling’. Jointly owning a life goal is important.

Shared responsibilities    One short story will tell the message here. Ken and Jean were part of a small group who knew each other well enough to be open and honest about deep issues. What was shared in the group stayed in the group. One evening Jean talked about Ken’s love of playing squash and football, but they used up any time he had alongside his growing work responsibilities. Jean had a significant career too, but she had cut out hobby-type interests in order to do the shopping, cook the meals, and keep the house organised. Jean’s pain was clear as she described what that was like. Here’s how she finished: ‘I’d always imagined we’d each have home responsibilities and careers, so each with one and a half jobs. Instead Ken has one job and I have two.’

No-one left the group that evening unaware of how those unshared responsibilities were hurting their relationship.

Values matter, and the more foundational they are the more they matter. When they’re in tension with the values of the person with whom they share life, the more difficult that relationship becomes.

Friendship

I’d rank friendship as one of the most important foundations for a strong and happy long-term relationship. Here’s when I first realised it.

Before Alison I had an earlier girlfriend called Kate. Kate was outgoing, popular in company, great performer from a platform, clever academically and came from a strong family background. We had good times together.

Except there were two problems. One was almost a culture issue. Her parents were wealthy, lived in an impressive stone built house in the suburbs, and Kate had absorbed tastes in clothing, travel, dining out, that were foreign to me. Then we got near to her birthday. She knew I’d be away on the date of her birthday, so Kate was clear she expected a bouquet of flowers to be delivered on the day. I certainly couldn’t afford flowers, but it seemed to matter so I raided the bank account for her. But it left me feeling uneasy.

The second problem was more decisive. I didn’t have a car, but my aunt loaned hers so I could take Kate out for a day. There were good things about that day, but during the longer drives I realised we’d run out of things to talk about and silence was uncomfortable. I began inventing subjects to fill the void. The day that should have been special was actually stressful. Warning bells rang, and the relationship with Kate gradually came to an end.

With Alison it was different, both then and all the years since. From the beginning there wasn’t just romance there was friendship. We enjoyed being together. We laughed, had fun, chatted about anything and everything, and when there was silence we were at peace. It’s still like that. Alison often reminds me that I vowed life would never be boring, and that’s always been true. We enjoy listening to each other’s stories as much as telling our own. We have stimulating conversations on countless subjects. We love visiting places together, exploring, learning, sharing. We support each other through rough times emotionally and physically. Neither of us fears the other would fail to care, no matter what happens, because we’ve already shown we do. When things have gone wrong, we’ve forgiven and moved on. Some marriage books have a chapter about ‘keeping romance strong’ where they advocate date nights, candlelit bedrooms, or meals in expensive restaurants. And there’s nothing wrong with those if that’s what you want. But romance can happen through every day, every event, every experience, every part of life. It’s in the simple joy of being together, a joy that’s never diminished, and in fact gets stronger and better all the time.

Relationships are unique to a particular couple, so our experience won’t be anyone else’s. But a bedrock of friendship seems crucial – enjoying each other, sharing with each other, depending on each other, laughing with each other, moving forward together.

May whatever relationships you have be productive, strengthening, fulfilling, and fun.

(My apologies this blog is posted late, but this last weekend I prioritised a very special birthday event for Alison with all our family. It was the right – and very happy – thing to do. Thank you for being understanding.)