If you're starting in marriage, I wish you could join me lounging on the couch in my office with a cold Diet Mountain Dew. I'd share a story or two, some that would make you laugh and some that might bring a tear, to let you see that fifty-two years with the same woman is not luck, but grace. It's a journey God has carried, with more storms and miracles than you'd ever guess from looking at us today.

When you get right down to it, life strips away everything that doesn't last. Jobs come and go. Ministries change. Friends move on. Parents pass away. Children grow up, find their own lives, and sometimes walk roads that break your heart. But marriage, that covenant you made before God, is what remains. Betty was with me when I was young, strong, and sure I could take on the world. She's still here now, after cancer, after loss, after dreams and nightmares we never saw coming. I can't say that about anyone else.

When the noise of life fades, what matters most is not what you built or what you earned. It's who you loved and who stood with you through every season. Protect your marriage. Invest in it. Everything else is transient, but your marriage is your anchor.

Long before we ever said I love you, Betty and I were friends. Real friends. We could talk for hours, laugh, and enjoy being together. The truth is, before I ever said a word or even thought about wanting to marry her, all my friends knew it would happen. People would joke and say, You two are going to get married one day.

My dad saw it first. He told me to marry her. I didn't think about it till dad mentioned it. I married my best friend, and that has made all the difference. The friendship we built early on became the foundation for everything we've faced since.

If you think it's talk to say us against the world, let me set the record straight. We've lived it. When we were kids, a thief broke into our house, and fear became real for the first time. On the mission field, we were robbed or faced attempted robbery over fifty-five times in three years. That first night, we learned to sleep lightly, to pray over locked doors after nailing them and windows shut, and to hold each other tight.

We lived through a citywide water crisis, two weeks with dry taps and not a clue how we'd get through. Days on end without electricity, learning to live by candlelight and or a 12-volt battery. Earthquakes and even terrorist bombs rattled our windows and our nerves, and we wondered how much more we could take. There were seasons when there was no money and no hope, and all we could do was hold on and wait for God to provide. Over and over, He did.

I've faced cancer more than once. I spent twenty-one days on a ventilator with COVID, my life hanging by a thread. Betty was sick, but never wavered. She couldn't go to the hospital because of COVID, but she never quit praying. We've watched our children suffer sickness, heartbreak, and disappointment, wondering if our hearts could take any more. Through it all, it's always been me and Betty against the world.

Marriage isn't a fairy tale. It's not always pretty, and it's rarely perfect. But I've learned that the sacred ground of marriage is found not in the big moments, but in the kitchen, the living room, and the hospital waiting room where two ordinary people choose each other again and again, and grace fills the gaps.

God's love has shown up in our darkest days. Not just on Sundays, but in the places no one else sees. If there's anything I can promise, it's this. God never wastes your pain, your laughter, or your tears. He's always there, and His grace never runs out.

We've learned to laugh when nothing made sense. Laughter and love have kept us together when nothing else could. Don't take yourselves too seriously. Joy is the fuel for the journey.

Marriage is a covenant, not a contract. It's two imperfect people learning to love like Jesus. We've needed more forgiveness than I can count. Sometimes Betty forgave me before I could forgive myself. Sometimes I had to see her not just as she was, but as God was making her. Don't expect perfection. Expect progress and be quick to celebrate it.

The measure of your love is the measure of your sacrifice. Real love means going first. First to say I'm sorry, first to forgive, first to serve, first to let go of pride. Don't keep score. You're on the same team. The sooner you lay down your right to be right, the sooner peace and laughter return.

Forgiveness is a deliberate choice, not a fleeting emotion. True forgiveness is letting go, never bringing it up again, neither to them, nor to anyone else, nor even to yourself. It's praying for God's best for your spouse, even when you're hurting. If you find yourself rehearsing their faults, ask the Holy Spirit to help you let it go. Bitterness is a prison. Forgiveness is freedom.

Pray always, surrender daily, and obey God. Leave the consequences to Him. There were many times we didn't have the answers, but we always had Jesus to come back to. Prayer, Scripture, and simply refusing to give up, those were our lifelines.

Friendship is the anchor. Betty was my friend first. Through it all, it has been Betty by my side, against the world.

Don't hide your struggles or your heart. Vulnerability is where intimacy grows. The best healing we've ever found came after honest, sometimes painful conversations. Don't settle for surface-level peace. Go deep, bring your whole self to the table, and let God do the mending.

To finish well, keep Jesus at the center. Pray together. Serve together. Let His Word shape your home. God's grace has carried us through earthquakes, robberies, sickness, and every uncertainty. He's not done with us yet, and He's not done with you.

Here's what I'd tell you

Fifty-two years in, I can promise you this. It's worth every ounce of effort. Not because we did it all right, but because God's grace met us at every step. Your story, with its bumps, blunders, miracles, and all, is living proof of what God can do with two ordinary people who keep saying yes to each other and Him.

The best is still ahead.