Satan may not be intelligent but he is certainly strategic. He strikes at the most vital functions of society. Even then he is not content to get us acting foolishly; he prods us to celebrate foolishness. He is able to do this with even the brightest among us. Let me provide some examples.

A commitment revolution

A few years ago a small group of professors who care deeply about families met to develop a national curriculum for marriage. Some of us suggested that commitment is the foundation to strong relationships. We must have a resolve strong enough to keep us connected to a partner through dark days and stormy nights.

A couple of team members objected strenuously to the idea of commitment: “Too many women have been held hostage in bad relationships by commitment.” One went farther: “I don’t even like the sound of the word.”

They made a good point. There are extreme and unwise forms of commitment. There are women who have been destroyed in the process of trying to rescue a relationship with an abusive partner. That is not right.

But there are also healthy forms of commitment. Commitment is the foundation of trust, of covenants, of growth. We might well ask ourselves, is our overall society suffering from too much or too little commitment?

Many social commentators and scholars have observed that we moderns are a flighty people. I agree.

Built on sand

After hitting a logjam on the idea of commitment, one of the team members suggested a different foundation for our marriage curriculum: exchange theory. You may or may not be familiar with this theory. It is based on economics. It suggests that each person is constantly weighing options, looking for the best bargain for him or herself.

Imagine how marriage based on exchange theory would operate! Every day I would ask myself whether my wife is the best I can do and whether the costs of the relationship outweigh the rewards. When attractive options come along, I investigate. If the benefits seem genuine, I would drop my “commitments” in favor of the better deal.

Does this fit with God’s plan for relationships? Is this how God wants us to learn patience, goodness, integrity, and character? No. It is the perfect antithesis.

There is a good reason that God warned us. “Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!” (Isaiah 5:20).

Sacrificing sacrifice

Our group met again a few months ago. Most of us had previously attended an international marriage conference.

At one of the conference sessions a renowned researcher had described an unexpected research finding. He found that people who made sacrifices in their marriages reported higher marital satisfaction than those who made fewer sacrifices. The finding was counterintuitive. Exchange theory would predict the greatest satisfaction when costs are low and rewards are high. But the Gospel of Jesus Christ would predict that satisfaction will be highest when we do what is right even when there is a cost associated with the choices.

As our curriculum team met to refine our work, a couple of team members objected to the word sacrifice as used in our evolving document. They returned to the familiar issue: “Too many women have already sacrificed too much.”

Again, they are right. Partly. Some have sacrificed too much–their dignity, their safety, their humanity.

But the vast majority of us have sacrificed too little. Too many of our decisions are made on the basis of immediate reward over long-term rightness–whether the choice is the number of servings of dessert or the willingness to help our spouse around the house.

Our team had a lengthy discussion about the need to teach healthy sacrifice while discriminating against unhealthy forms. All to no avail. Two or three people out of twenty were quite determined that we not use the word sacrifice. The word was sacrificed on the altar of sensitivity.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe in sensitivity. I teach it. I try to practice it. But it is not the only value that God recommends. He also recommends obedience (a part of commitment), and sacrifice. They are foundational to character development.

Where from here?

In making these observations I am not making a resigned shrug. I am not willing to concede the battle to Satan. Rather this is a call to action. I invite myself and all who believe that God is the ultimate source of rightness (even higher than social convention), to speak up for goodness. Our voices should be neither combative nor strident. They should be gentle but persistent. We can invite sensible dialogue.

We can be true to Truth.

May I tell you about my wife, Nancy? I wish I could be objective, but I cannot. She is mild in temperament—we laugh in the family that she is constitutionally and dispositionally unable to yell. She is compassionate—she seems naturally drawn to those who are lonely or disenfranchised. She is unselfish—she demands no gifts nor considerations. Yet she is glad to serve—it will take half of eternity for me to repay all the backrubs she has given me in 32 years of marriage. She has a gentle and clever sense of humor—only those who listen carefully get to enjoy it. She is devoted—her children and grandchildren know that her love is stronger than the cords of death for she would gladly die for any one of them—and they know it. She is uncomplaining—I was first drawn to her when, during a single adult activity, she fell in a bitter cold river and climbed into the raft laughing. In addition, she is beautiful—I love her sweet face and lovely frame. As if that were not enough, she is also the kindest person I have ever known—bar none.

I regularly thank Heavenly Father for blessing me with a companion who is far better than I knew and far finer than I deserve. I cannot imagine life without Nancy.

So, why is it that I sometimes get irritated, impatient or judgmental of my dear companion? How can I explain patches of discontent? After decades of episodic analyzing and blaming, I have discovered that my feelings about Nancy are not a measure of her but of me. Just as our feelings about God are a good measure of our faith, so our feelings about our companions are a reliable gauge to our personal goodness.

So how do we mortals build our dramas of discontent? How do we transform our early love into simmering (or seething) discontent? Andrew Christensen and Neil Jacobson, two marriage research pioneers, observe that, in the cycle of marital frustrations and disappointments, both partners have valid reasons for their complaints. But “every editor chooses a different beginning and a different ending. We usually start the film with our partners doing something to us and end it with our justifiable reaction. We are good; they are bad” (p.116). It is human nature (of the natural-man variety) to edit our life film so that it tells a story in which we are the suffering victim and our partner is the careless offender.

As long as we tally shortcomings and demand change, we get defensiveness from our partner (who can make an equally compelling and valid case against us) and discontent in ourselves. Just as Satan would have it.

Christensen and Jacobson have a surprising recommendation: Accept and enjoy your partner as he or she is. “Being prepared to accept lack of change opens up a wealth of opportunities for transforming your relationship into the peaceful, intimate union you’ve wanted all along. . . . We have direct control over and responsibility for our own behavior alone” (pp. 249–50). In that heavenly division of responsibility, we repent ourselves and love others. Our job is not to change others; it is our duty to love them. “. . . when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man” (D&C 121:37).

People can endure amazing things if they take a positive view of their situation. I recently visited with a couple that was having marital distress. We spent almost three hours talking together. The man was the most dogmatic and demanding person I have ever known. He would not seriously consider any view of anything besides his own. His thinking was the measure of all truth. His needs were the measure of family functioning.

His wife is an energetic and optimistic person. With those qualities also comes some occasional irresponsibility. But she is abundantly positive. After several years of marriage he is angry and she is exhausted. At the end of our marathon session, I felt more despairing for their marriage than I have ever felt about any. Some days later I ran into the woman in another setting. She asked my candid assessment of their marriage. I told her that, for their marriage to work, she would have to live off her husband’s life script. He was not likely to change.

I felt awkward because I was trying to be positive but I could not in good conscience advise her to stay in the marriage. We were prepared to help her move. Yet her response to my bleak assessment was “I can do it! If that’s what I have to do, I will do it!” I honor her for her resolve even if I wonder how she will find the strength. (Actually, since she is a woman of faith, I know where she can find the strength.)

I should note that I do not believe that every marriage can make it. But the great mass-of-quiet-desperation marriages do not need divorce but need only more charity in order to flourish. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the cure for the common marital complaint.

“Whatever Jesus lays his hands upon lives. If Jesus lays his hands upon a marriage, it lives. If he is allowed to lay his hands on the family, it lives” (Howard W. Hunter, “Reading the Scriptures,” Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 65).

Jesus is not only the Creator of worlds but the Energizer of relationships. In him all things have life. As he said: “The thief [Satan and his servants] cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).

Abundantly indeed. If I am unhappy with Nancy it is because I do not understand or do not honor the covenants I have made. I do not have charity. I believe that the covenant of consecration together with the marriage covenants effectively requires me to promise God: “I now covenant with Thee that from this time forth and forever I will never see any fault in Nancy.” It is not enough just to stay in solemn determination while occasionally mowing the lawn. I believe that God expects me to consecrate not only my time but also my thoughts and feelings.

Certainly it is better to shine a candle on our partners’ qualities than to curse the darkness that can be found in every soul.
Over the years I have judged Nancy for a wide variety of human imperfections: varicose veins, picking my nails, leaving things on the kitchen counter, poor word choice, a different affectional style from mine, indecision, etc. God has been working to teach me that, when I have charity, those complaints and discontents disappear. I can actually learn to enjoy whatever she is. What a lesson! So, when I am unhappy with Nancy in any way, it means that I need to get a spiritual tune-up. As in the Lord’s great parable, having been forgiven a billion dollar debt, how can I fail to forgive Nancy her $15 (or 15 cent) debts? (In her case they may only be nickel debts but, being a natural man, I lord them over her as if they were larger than the national debt.)

As we mature in love, it is possible for our partner to become the working definition of everything we want in a partner. We discard youthful dreams in favor of the blessed reality. “She is perfect for me.” Of course every mortal spouse is imperfect—some more imperfect than others. But a combination of faith and charity can cause us to say, “This is precisely the person I need to become the person I should be.”

God designed marriage as advanced training in charity. Our irritations with each others’ mortal weaknesses cannot be managed unless we have charity. Our peace and joy grows as we learn to see our partner through Jesus’ eyes.
Some scholars estimate that about 70% of the things we don’t like in our partner will never change. Wow. That changes the whole nature of the contract. Instead of trying to communicate our discontents so that both of us can change and become more satisfactory to each other, we work instead to accept each other. We learn to notice, remember, and celebrate the parts we enjoy about our partner. We laugh (kindly) and help each other with our weaknesses. We provide each other a supportive hand rather than an accusatory finger.

Some may argue that if there are 70% of the things that we don’t like about our partners that can never change, what about the other 30% of the things we don’t like that can change? Gottman’s research says that they will only change when I accept Nancy as she is. What a wonderful irony—when I stop trying to change Nancy and simply enjoy her as she is, then she can grow. Heavenly Father has charted the path to joy right through the territory of unselfish love.

There are many related lessons I have learned. If things on the counter bother me, I can take care of them. When I think that Nancy does not “get it” (meaning that she doesn’t agree with my dogmatic viewpoint), I can work harder to understand her perspective. I can make requests rather than complaints. (It would be silly not to tell her that I have an enduring distaste for eggplant, parsnips, and—forgive me, Southern colleagues—okra. But I can frame this sharing in the context of what I enjoy: tomatoes, broccoli, carrots, tomatoes, corn, peas, spinach, and tomatoes.) When I am in a foul or tired mood, I can hold judgments and complaints until kindness returns (at which time I am not likely to have any complaints).

I think God designed marriage to help us grow spiritually. The most important lessons I have learned about being a good person I did not learn on my mission, sitting in high priest quorum, or serving as bishop; I learned them in marriage. But it has taken three decades of work to go from a selfish clod of complaints to a marginal saint who adores his companion. I thank Heavenly Father for the priceless lessons he has taught me about the sweet joy of love.

Perhaps the most pernicious sins are those that make us feel virtuous while we devastate our fundamental Christian professions. For instance, the Pharisees were famous for painstakingly observing the law while failing at basic compassion.

There is a modern and proximate sequel to that hypocrisy. It is very common for a marriage partner to vent his or her spleen at the spouse’s expense and justify it under the banner of honesty. “I have to be honest, dear. I just don’t find you to be attractive as a woman or a human.”

That particular cruelty has a close cousin: “If I can clearly paint a picture of my partner’s faults for her, then she can overcome them.” The idea that we continue to be foolish and sinful because no one has systematically portrayed our faults for us has been discredited by thousands of years of sad, mortal history. Cool, scornful objectivity is not the world’s greatest need.

There is still another relative in that dismal family. “My anger is a special kind of indignation. It signals when someone has done something wrong and needs to be chastened.”

One last relative. “Lately I have noticed that you seem to be very self-centered. In fact, now that I think about it, it seems that you have always been self-serving.” It is common to let today’s discontent eclipse years, even decades, of struggling together.

As always, the perfect example of the right attitude toward fellow travelers (especially our spouses and children) is provided by Jesus. There may be no more poignant, elegant and dramatic contrast between the condescension of the natural man and the compassion of the Gods than in the encounter between Jesus and Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36–50).
Simon invited Jesus to dine with him apparently for no other reason than because Jesus was the talk of the town. He did not show Jesus the minimal gestures of hospitality. He treated him with cool disdain.

As they sat on couches at a low table in the open courtyard, a woman of the city who was well known as a sinner brought an alabaster box of ointment and began to wash Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the perfumed oil.

The Pharisee acted even worse than an uncivilized natural man who might have considered the woman a temporary annoyance. He judged both the woman and Jesus, saying within himself: “This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner.” In one condescending swoop he condemns the woman as unworthy of contact with civilized humans and Jesus as uninspired for failing to discern her loathsome sinfulness.

Jesus, ever gracious, invites Simon to think differently by telling him a story. “There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?” Simon acknowledged that the one who had been forgiven the greater debt would probably be more grateful.

Then Jesus did something wholly unexpected: he held up the sin-burdened woman as a moral model for Simon.

And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little (verses 44–47).

For all the inhabitants of the eternal worlds, Jesus set the example of graciousness. “And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. . . . Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.”

As if the contrast were not already perfectly clear for us mortals, there is one concluding irony. “And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that forgiveth sins also?” Even in the face of perfect graciousness, they did not recognize it. They judged it as foolish and presumptuous.

What a great message for marriage. By nature we follow the lead of the Pharisee. We hoard our good will and measure each person by the measuring rod of our own remarkable rightness.

In marriage we may make our expectations and needs into the standard of judgment. Being “honest” with our partner always presumes that our version of reality is the right one, best one, true one. It does not show the humility to honor our partner’s unique view and experience of the world. Our anger and indignation spill out as a rebuke to those who are not as committed or fine as we.

Jesus is different. He knows that the injuries of mortality are healed by love rather than diagnosis. He knows that the weaknesses of the flesh are strengthened by compassion and mercy rather than by autopsy. The only person in the universe who has the right to judge us and condemn us chooses instead to redeem us and justify us. He who might be our accuser chooses to be our Advocate (D&C 45:3–5).

John Gottman has done revolutionary research on marriage. Based on his work in his love lab in Seattle, Washington, he recommends that couples find the glory in their marital story. He observes that

In a stable marriage . . . the partners tend to view each other through “rose-colored” glasses. They assume that each other’s positive, admirable characteristics are an intrinsic part of their personality rather than occasional flukes. . . . The good things about their relationship are considered stable and far-reaching while the bad patches or areas of tension are considered to be fleeting and situational (pp.118–19).

A successful marriage is based on the choice to see a partner with love and compassion. The Lord gives very clear instructions to govern our relationships.

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood [or, presumably, by virtue of parenthood or husbandhood or wifehood], only by persuasion, by long suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

By kindness, and pure knowledge [a very special kind of knowledge: pure knowledge. “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God,” perhaps even in their marriage partners], which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile (D&C 121: 41–42).

When I was teaching a marriage class for the university, a young woman in the class asked, “My husband had a very painful childhood. Whenever I try to bring up any problems in our relationship, he retreats. He won’t talk. What can I do?” What she might not have known was that she was already doing the most important thing: She was seeing him with compassion and love.

Of course compassion, by itself, does not solve all problems. It is worth remembering, as Wile, a wise marriage counselor, observes, that every marriage has unresolvable differences. Some of our differences simply will not be set right in mortality. That is not cause for alarm. It may be cause for amusement or patience or charity, but not alarm. Fortunately many of the irritations in relationships are not so hard to bear when we are peaceful and loving.

There will also be times when that sweet young woman can gently invite counsel from her husband. In a time when things are peaceful, she can ask, “Sweetheart, will you teach me how to get your input when I am perplexed? I want your counsel. Yet I’m not sure how to bring up my problems. Will you teach me how to do it?”

The greatest revolution in research on marriage may have been the movement from communication and problem-solving orientations to a kindness orientation. As Gottman observes:

Even in strong relationships, too often people focus on the negatives in an effort to make the relationship all the better. But by dwelling on what is wrong in your marriage, it’s easy to lose sight of what is right. This is a primary reason that admiration is often the first thing to go. . . . Nor do bad times wipe out all the good times . . . look through picture albums from past vacations, or reread some old love letters . . . you need to become the architect of your thoughts. It’s up to you to decide what your inner script will contain. You can habitually look at what is not there in your relationship, at your disappointments, and fill your mind with thoughts of irritation, hurt, and contempt. Or you can do the opposite . . . If you can learn to think empathetically rather than negatively about what your spouse is going through, and maintain your admiration for your spouse’s good qualities, you will not be plagued with overwhelming distress-maintaining thoughts that trigger defensiveness and harm your marriage . . . Make a list of your partner’s positive qualities . . . Memorize this list and think about how much harder life would be without these positives. When you find yourself following a critical train of thought about your mate, use elements from the list to interrupt your thinking. Make a habit of this process and the change can be [a] dramatic . . . “rethinking” [of] your marriage (Gottman, p.183).

Good marriages are not built so much on “honesty,” disclosure, and frankness as they are built on kindness, patience, and love—just as the Lord has always said.

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.

By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:34–35).

When we have learned to love as Jesus loves, we are likely to rejoice in our marriage partner.

References

Gottman, J. (1994). Why marriages succeed or fail. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Wile, J. (1988). After the honeymoon. New York: John Wiley & Sons.

Almost twenty years ago Nancy and I were planning the landscaping around our new house. A landscape architect had recommended a cluster of three fruit trees at the corner of our property. We wondered if that was too many trees too close together. We talked about it. We stepped out the area. We looked up the mature size of the specified trees. Finally, the day before the trees were to be delivered, we decided to follow the landscaper’s suggestions and plant all three trees.
When I arrived home from work the next day I went to inspect our new trees and found that we had just one tree where I expected three. I asked Nancy about it. She responded, “Well, three trees just seemed like too many. I told the men that we wanted just one.”

I wish I could say that my response was, “Well, it was a hard decision. We have vacillated back and forth. It is probably just as well that we have one tree there.” Unfortunately I did not say that. I was mystified and indignant: “Why did we spend hours researching and discussing the question to have you change it on a whim? When we have decided something together, we should stand together by our decision!” I was angry. And the more I talked and thought about it, the angrier I got. (Anger requires very little encouragement to grow.)

In some technical sense I was right. A couple should stand by their joint decisions. Before those decisions are modified, they should be discussed together if possible. I was “right.” Nancy had upended our decision process. But a feeling deep in my conscience haunted me.

To justify my stern reaction, I might have hunted for the beatitudes that say, “Blessed are the right, for they shall be top dogs. Blessed are the logical for they shall inherit the computers.” Of course I would have hunted in vain for such beatitudes. The real beatitudes would only have made me uncomfortable: “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy” (Matthew 5:7).

It is worth switching perspectives on the fruit tree fracas from our provincial, earthly one to a heavenly one. I feel sure that the heavenly hosts were not nodding assent to my lectures. There were no immortals joining in the finger wagging. I rather suspect that heaven wept. Why should a priesthood-bearing son belittle and berate his covenant companion whose greatest fault is gentleness? Is her vacillation a greater sin than my acrid accusation?

It all seems clear in retrospect. The Lord’s new command is that we love one another as he has loved us. He, with his infinite patience and perfect goodness, is our model. The command to love as he loves must have special application (and particular challenges) in marriage. In fact, scriptures offer a remarkably challenging standard for husbands:

“Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it” (Ephesians 5:25).

That is a high standard! We are to be guardians, protectors, and defenders of our wives in the same spirit that Christ loves and sustains the church. Petty differences, so common in marriage, should never eclipse that guardian role. Irritations over toothpaste, vacation spots, and fruit trees must be seen merely as distractions. We express our preferences and even make requests. But we never burn the family home just to make our point.

There is a vital line in a modest little film, Martin the Cobbler. A hungry little boy has stolen an apple. When the boy is caught, the owner of the apple threatened to beat him within an inch of his life. She was interrupted by Martin, the cobbler, who asked:

If he should be whipped for an apple, what should be done with us?

The question haunts me. If Nancy should be whipped for an apple tree, what should be done with me? Are my many offences to be dismissed? When we become executors for the law of justice, we invite sterile judgments for our acts. If we live by the sword, we will surely die by the sword.

God recommends that humans cultivate mercy and leave judgment with One who knows everything and loves perfectly (see Mormon 8:20). When we will not forgive each other our pocket-change debts, how can we hope to be forgiven our staggering debts against heaven? God’s counsel to the unforgiving debtor challenges us:

Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee?

And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him.

So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses (Matthew 18:33–35).

We must keep the bridge of mercy in good repair. Each of us will surely need to cross it.

Apparently our human obsession with being right often obscures his command. He asks that we focus on being good and worry less about being right. How many wars might be averted, how many lives spared, how many estrangements might be avoided, and how many misunderstandings renounced if we let goodness govern over rightness?

The intimacy of marriage is ideal soil for cultivating charity. We may be irritated and annoyed by mannerisms and limitations. Or we may wisely surrender selected judgments, preferences, conveniences, and even our advanced knowledge in order to prosper a relationship. I can value an activity or perspective because my spouse values it. I can adjust my schedule to accommodate her. I can modify expectations to celebrate the patches of sunshine in our lives.

Redemption can be a very demanding business, as Jesus can attest. Sometimes being right just isn’t good enough.

There is nothing quite so helpful for mortals as total desperation. As long as there is even a sliver of hope that our efforts might remove us from our dilemmas, we are likely to keep floundering along. But when we come up against impossibility, then we discover the power.

It certainly was true for Moses. Imagine how he felt with the Red Sea in front of him, millions of clamoring children of Israel behind him, and bloodthirsty Egyptian troops behind them. Faith is always much easier in retrospect than prospect; From our historical vantage point it seems obvious what Moses needed to do—especially if you have seen the Cecil B. DeMille version of the parting of the Sea.

But when Moses came face to face with utter hopelessness, he did not have the benefit of the Bible in movie form. He knew that he was hopelessly over his head. And, when their own efforts cannot possibly save them, that is when mortals are most likely to turn wholeheartedly to God. If they have faith.

When caught in the squeeze, Moses’ faithless people complained bitterly: “For it had been better for us to serve the Egyptians, than that we should die in the wilderness” (Exodus 14:12). Their complaining must have added pressure to Moses’ dilemma. Had Moses been shown their path ahead of time? Was he spared soul-stretching pressure because of his foreknowledge?

My suspicion is that he, like all of us, was required to lean on faith for support. “And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you to day: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace” (Exodus 14:13–14). What a powerful declaration of faith.

Based on four decades of wilderness tutoring Moses knew that God would deliver them, but did he know just how God would do it? Did he wonder if an earthquake would swallow Pharaoh’s army? Did he hope for lightning to frighten them? Or maybe heavenly chariots to destroy the armies of Pharaoh? Or did he already know that God would part the Red Sea?
It seems that only after Moses had exercised and announced his faith that the answer was revealed: “And the Lord said unto Moses, Wherefore criest thou unto me? speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward: But lift thou up thy rod, and stretch out thine hand over the sea, and divide it: and the children of Israel shall go on dry ground through the midst of the sea” (Exodus 14:15–16).

Crisis presses us to stretch our faith and enlarge our character.

A woman sought my advice about her marriage. “After 25 years of disappointment and pain, I think there is a 90% chance that we should simply divorce. We have tried everything. I see no way to redeem our relationship.”

Ah, the blessing of desperation! Unfortunately, even when cornered, humans would rather do almost anything but throw themselves on the merits, mercy, and grace of him who is mighty to save. It is popular to blame others. “My husband is an insensitive lout who would rather fish than care for his family.” Other people have a strong bias toward blaming themselves: “This is exactly what I deserve: total misery and hopelessness.”

Yet he stands and waits and waits and waits for an invitation to rescue us. For each of us he is as the father of the prodigal who waited through many seasons for his squandering son to return to him. Despite the son’s wastefulness, “when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him” (Luke 15:20).

Even when we are far from God, after we come to our senses and turn to him, he runs to us and embraces us just as he did the prodigal. When we are ready to turn our lives to him, he prepares the feast for us.

Marriage is an especially fruitful area for God’s growth-promoting purposes. Is there any enterprise that we enter with such ridiculous hopes? Is there any relationship where we take so personally the simple humanness of another? Is there any situation where we are so regularly tempted to think we have made a mistake? Is there any place where annoyance is more likely?

While there are hints of trouble early on—even before marriage—it takes most people some time to reach cosmic dismay. After two years it is obvious to the mildly alert person that the spouse has certain disagreeable behaviors that do not change readily and have become more difficult to wave away with infatuation.

But there is a special kind of despair reserved for those who have been together for a couple of decades or more. After investing so much, it seems absolutely intolerable that we should get so much less than we deserve. We amass the evidence of our abundant sacrifice. We itemize our partner’s offences. We calculate the deficit. The answer is clear: “I must get out in order to save my soul. This person will destroy me.”

Desperation is just the place where God does his best work. He will work a miracle for us if we, like Moses, declare: “Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you to day: for the [spouses] whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again [in the same way] no more for ever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.”

When we have given a relationship the best we have and find that it is not enough, we may turn to God. The One who heals the lepers, blind, lame, and palsied also knows how to heal the disenchanted, bored, resentful, and alienated. But we, like Moses, must be willing to let God do his work. We must want him to transform us with a mighty change of heart, renew a right spirit within us, and give us the mind of Christ.

I wonder if the commonest form of latter-day idolatry is the worship of our own abilities. We do not turn to God because we assume that we (self or partner) must try harder and be better. We heap scorn on ourselves for our failures or our partner’s failures. We commit to fix things. Yet we fail to acknowledge that we are less than the dust of the earth. We are worthless and fallen. As long as we depend on our own arms of flesh, we are enemies to God. That is latter-day idolatry.

When we stand at the edge of the marital Red Sea with a multitude of disappointments clamoring for something better, we should call on God. I like to use Alma’s words: “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death” (Alma 36:18). If we give him place in our souls, he will fill our minds with compassionate understanding, our souls with earnest helpfulness, our mouths with charitable words, and our spirits with steady resolve. He is able to do his work.

The One who calmed the storm can quiet our squalls. The One who multiplied the loaves and fishes can magnify our charity. The One who cast out devils can remove resentments.

Satan must laugh as we discard covenants and relationships for the honorable-sounding cause of self-protection. While there are certainly those who must leave a relationship because their agency has been removed by a spouse, the majority of divorces would be prevented by drawing on heavenly resources rather than our puny, human ones.

Even among family scholars there is a growing alarm that many of us are so filled with individualism that we trade our covenants for a mess of self justification. Bill Doherty has observed that marriage can be like living in Minnesota. When the bitter winter comes, we are tempted to head south. Even friends and therapists warn of getting frostbite in flawed marriages. We should “trust our feelings of unhappiness.” Yet every relationship will have its winter. While we could leave our marriage with hopes of instituting a better one, that relationship will inevitably enter its winter. If, in contrast, we stay together and warm each other, “the next springtime in Minnesota can be all the more glorious for the winter that we endured together” (2001, p.105).

Michele Weiner Davis suggests that our culture is biased against the sacrifices of marriage. Even in very troubled cases, divorce “doesn’t necessarily bring happiness. In fact, in most cases, divorce creates more problems than it solves” (p.12).
John Gottman has observed that most (he calculates 69%) of the things that irritate us about our partner are not going to change. As to the 31% that can change, he observes that “one of the great paradoxes in therapy is that people don’t change unless they feel accepted as they are” (1994, p.184). Gottman has provided solid, research-based recommendations for strengthening marriage. His recommendations are different from those prescribed by the natural man, natural therapist, or natural society.

None of this should be understood to say that science now has better answers than God. Father has always known how to succor his children. However, it is my view that, in these times of great temptation, God has unleashed a flood of truth even through scientists so that the very elect do not have to be deceived if they will turn to better ways. God has always taught those better ways. Now they are confirmed by good research. God invites “will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?” (3 Nephi 9:13).

Marriage has not become, in the last few decades, more difficult and treacherous than ever before. What has changed is not the nature of marriage but that our commitment has lessened while our demands to have our needs met have escalated. That is not a celestial combination. If, when we confront the impossible Red Seas of marriage, we turn to God, to his power and his principles, we will find a miraculous way opening before us. The gospel of Jesus Christ is simply the most under-utilized resource in the universe. Faith, humility, kindness, and charity are the timeless virtues that strengthen relationships.

Recommended reading

Davis, M. W. (2002). Divorce Remedy. New York: Fireside.

Doherty, W. J. (2001). Take Back Your Marriage. New York: Guilford.

Gottman, J. M. (1994). Why Marriages Succeed or Fail and How You Can Make Yours Last. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Gottman, J. M. (1999). The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. New York: Crown.

Nancy and I have some friends who have been married for a few years longer than we have been. They are earnest, good people. But they are human. A few years ago the husband was dragging home from work every day at dinner time. He was ready for peace and order. But things were not always in order at home. He nagged his wife. “Why can’t you have dinner ready when I get home? Why can’t you have the kids do their chores? Why can’t you have the place straightened up?” The day came when his good wife had had enough. “You know you have some faults, too.” He pondered that. “Yes, but they don’t bother me like yours do.”

The trouble with most conflict resolution is that it starts in the wrong place. It takes us when we are tired and irritated and puts us toe-to-toe with the enemy. But by the time that irritation and judgment have filled my mind, I am not in a good place to solve our problems. I am not even in a good place to know what the problems are. And I am not in a good place to show the respect that you deserve.

I have a friend who likes to say that “You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.” That idea can be extended. You can no more win a fist fight than you can win an automobile accident. You can no more win a family argument than win a house fire. When we choose to fight, we all lose. That is why Satan recommends fighting so highly.
So, what is the gospel remedy for conflict? “Blessed [are] the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:9). God recommends that we be messengers of peace. Three steps to being agents of peace come to mind.

We can see each other with charity

Irving Becker has said that “If you don’t like someone, the way he holds his spoon will make you furious; if you do like him, he can turn his plate over into your lap and you won’t mind” (Reader’s Digest. (1975). Pocket treasury of great quotations. Pleasantville, N.Y: Reader’s Digest).

Often we allow a combination of irritations to fester. Judgment and discontent infect the injuries. Poison fills the system. Disease is a normal part of a telestial world, yet we are all choosing to be something more than telestial.

We cannot overcome irritation by ourselves. That is why Mormon encourages us to “pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart” (Moroni 7:48). Divine love springs only from divine wells. We may love as he loves only when we are filled with him, when we have the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2:16).

I don’t have the right to correct anyone I do not love. When I love them with Christ-like love, I feel inclined to bless, help, encourage, and support them.

We can take responsibility for our own feelings of irritation

Elder Christensen has recounted a powerful story about irritation.

As a newlywed, Sister Lola Walters read in a magazine that in order to strengthen a marriage a couple should have regular, candid sharing sessions in which they would list any mannerisms they found annoying. She wrote: “We were to name five things we found annoying, and I started off. . . I told him I didn’t like the way he ate grapefruit. He peeled it and ate it like an orange! Nobody else I knew ate grapefruit like that. Could a girl be expected to spend a lifetime, even eternity, watching her husband eat grapefruit like an orange! After I finished, it was his turn to tell the things he disliked about me. . . . He said, “Well, to tell the truth, I can’t think of anything I don’t like about you, Honey.” Gasp. I quickly turned my back because I didn’t know how to explain the tears that had filled my eyes and were running down my face. . . . Whenever I hear of married couples being incompatible, I always wonder if they are suffering from what I now call the Grapefruit Syndrome (Joe J. Christensen, Ensign, May 1995, pp. 64–66).

I used to invest a fair amount of energy encouraging Nancy to keep our kitchen counters clear and clean. As the years passed, it gradually occurred to me that my obsession with tidy counters is not her problem. It is mine. If something is irritating me, I can take care of it. I do not have to make my preferences into universal commandments.

I have noticed that I am far more likely to be irritated by other people’s faults when I am tired, frustrated, or lonely. I can become, as George Bernard Shaw says, “a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making [me] happy.” If I am humble enough to accept my own contribution to the storm, I can take action to minimize it. I can ask for heavenly help. I can slow down and breathe deeply. I can isolate myself if I am unusually antagonistic.

One trap that prevents peace is the need to be right. We condemn others for their ignorance. But any divine mandate to be smart is superseded by the command to be loving. It is better to be good than to be right. “Often the difference between a successful marriage and a mediocre one consists of leaving about three or four things a day unsaid” (Harlan Miller).

We can act in ways that encourage growth.

Many psychologists have observed that Americans express many kinds of irritation in one way: anger. “Why can’t you ever think of anyone else?!” “What is wrong with you?!” “Why are you so selfish?!” Such statements do not invite peaceful sharing.

Rather than complain, “You are so wrapped up in your life that you never make time for anyone else!” I can invite, “I feel lonely. I miss doing things with you. Could we do something together this week?”

Love also sets people up for success. If I know that Nancy likes time to think about decisions, rather than stand tapping my toe, pressing her for decisions, and wondering why she doesn’t learn how to make decisions, I will anticipate the need and will provide her time to reflect.

While it is true that people must bear the painful consequences of unwise decisions, we need never rejoice at another’s suffering. We can always offer the healing balm of understanding. A misbehaving family member may have sorrowful encounters with the law. Yet our charity “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things” (1 Cor. 13:7).

When an elderly woman was asked at her fiftieth wedding anniversary what the secret of her long and happy marriage was, she responded that she had decided at their marriage to forgive her husband ten faults for the sake of their marriage. “I never got around to listing the ten but every time he did something that made me mad I thought, ‘It’s a good thing for him that that is one of the ten.’”

Love, forgiveness, and wisdom bring peace to our families. Indeed, blessed are the peacemakers. They shall be called the children of God.

It was always nice to sit with my Dad and talk of the gospel, his favorite topic. From time to time his words come back to me. “Many decisions are difficult because we have not made up our minds to do what is right.”

The things he taught become truer and truer, more and more meaningful as the years pass. His wisdom was reaffirmed for me recently. A friend called and asked for my advice. He told me of many years in a loveless marriage. At work he has become friends with a wonderful woman with whom he has beautiful gospel conversations. She is also in a loveless marriage. Recently they have shared their feelings for each other: They would love to be together. “What should we do?” he asked me. The next day she called me and asked the same question.

From the phone conversations it was clear that both of them were ready to do almost anything to open the way for their relationship. Their fondness and closeness had grown out of dozens of hours of talking and being together. Friendship had grown into something far more. Both had begun to think about ways the Lord might open the way for them to be together.

My initial questions to them may have seemed quite unrelated to their dilemma: “Do you love the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you trust him completely? Do you know that he will always act in your best interest?” Affirmative answers to these questions are liberating. Submission to God is the path to happiness.

And whoso knocketh, to him will he open; . . . and save they shall cast . . .away [learning, wisdom and riches], and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them (2 Nephi 9:42).

We often walk away from sacred promises for alluring prospects. We turn our backs on yesterday’s impressions in order to grasp today’s whims. We devalue past joys as we lunge at prospective satisfactions. We reduce covenants to mere options.
The woman described above imagined that the Lord might end her husband’s life so that she could marry her co-worker. She even imagined a specific timetable. After all, her husband was insensitive while her co-worker was attentive. She had tried to make it work. Certainly the Lord wanted her to be happy.

Brigham Young taught us boldly:

There is no enjoyment, no happiness, no comfort, there is no light to my path, for me there is no real pleasure or delight only in the observance of truth as it comes from God, obeying it in every sense of the word, and marching forward as a good faithful soldier in the discharge of every duty (Journal of Discourses, vol.19, pp. 42–43).

Dishonor does not lead to goodness. Wickedness never was happiness. The only path to enduring peace is obedience. Working at our appointed station doing the pick and shovel work of relationship building may seem unglamorous and unpromising. But those who are faithful in duty will enjoy eternal rewards that are unimagined—even unimaginable—in our mortal way of thinking. Even as we labor along, God will hum hymns of comfort and joy to our souls. Duty does not have to be drudgery.

I recommended to both the man and the woman who called that they do everything in their power to make their respective marriages work. After they had done all they can, they still should pray for the Lord to provide miracles to open further ways to bless their marriages. Only as we honor our promises with our best efforts and heaven’s help can we expect to find happiness.

When we imagine happiness to be in some exotic place outside our mundane commitments, we will be everlastingly disappointed. When we chase happiness, we will be frustrated. When we obey with full purpose of heart, a peace beyond understanding distills upon us. Brigham Young gives the example of Lyman Johnson who left his covenant obligations for something that seemed more promising.

Lyman E. Johnson said, at one of our Quorum meetings, after he had apostatized and tried to put Joseph out of the way. . . . “Brethren—I will call you brethren—I will tell you the truth. If I could believe “Mormonism”—it is no matter whether it is true or not—but if I could believe “Mormonism” as I did when I traveled with you and preached, if I possessed the world I would give it. I would give anything, I would suffer my right hand to be cut off, if I could believe it again. Then I was full of joy and gladness. My dreams were pleasant. When I awoke in the morning my spirit was cheerful. I was happy by day and by night, full of peace and joy and thanksgiving. But now it is darkness, pain, sorrow, misery in the extreme. I have never since seen a happy moment (Journal of Discourses, vol.19, p. 42).

What a keen irony! We often do something because it seems best, wisest, or truest—even though it may not be in total harmony with the counsel of God and his servants. We imagine that we know better than they or that unusual circumstances justify our desertion. For example, we resolve to pay tithing after the bills are paid. We determine that food storage is folly. We take on debt with disregard for counsel and conscience. We minimize those parts of the Book of Mormon that do not agree with our advanced educations or humanistic philosophy.

O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish (2 Nephi 9:28).

As I talked to the woman, I saw a miracle. She originally called with the desperate sense that she could not be happy without the companionship of her co-worker; when I encouraged her to honor her promises and entrust her happiness to God, she did not resist. She embraced God as the only true source of happiness. She trusted him. The miracle grew—as it always does when we trust God. She called the next day to report that she had gone home and apologized to her husband for her coolness and unkindness. They had spent a joyous evening together—something she had never imagined possible. Their marriage is not suddenly idyllic, but there is hope.

Submission came more slowly for the male co-worker. His marriage seemed hopelessly vacant. The prospect of losing his co-worker’s affection seemed intolerable. Slowly he resolved to throw himself on the merits, mercy, and grace of him who is mighty to save. His marriage may or may not work. But exercising faith in the giver of life, he cried out for mercy following Alma’s pattern, “O Jesus, Thou Son of God, have mercy on me.” His marriage is not changed. But he moves forward feeling heavenly peace.

And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions (Mosiah 24:14).

There are, of course, marriages that must end because of abuse or betrayal. But Satan would lead millions more than the unavoidable few out of their sacred promises by prospects of something better, sweeter, or finer. But Satan is a liar. He will “not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell” (Alma 30:60).

There is only one source of enduring happiness. When we act contrary to promises, covenants, counsel, and impressions, we are acting contrary to the nature of happiness.

…for ye have sought all the days of your lives for that which ye could not obtain; and ye have sought for happiness in doing iniquity, which thing is contrary to the nature of that righteousness which is in our great and Eternal head (Helaman 13:38).

As Dad taught, when we make up our minds to be obedient to the counsel of heaven, we will find peace, joy, consolation. We will be happy. Forever. God knows the path to happiness. He will lead us there if we will obey.