Understanding the difference between primary and secondary emotions is key to true intimacy, the kind where we feel deeply known and seen by the people we love. Think of emotions like a volcano. On the surface, we see the explosion, the anger, frustration, withdrawal, but underneath, there’s something deeper fuelling it.
Emotions are often seen as obstacles to faith or reason, but in reality, they are sacred messengers of the soul.
Love, when truly embodied, is not passive or weak. It is a force that holds and heals, guides and shapes, leading with both tenderness and strength. Yet in a world that often equates love with submission or passivity, we are invited to explore the deeper, more complex dynamic between power and tenderness in relationships.
I am discovering that healing does not require me to abandon the frightened child I once was. Instead, I can bring her with me into the safety of the present and the compassionate presence of God.
The word Paul uses for guard is a military term. It evokes the image of soldiers standing watch at the gates of a city, protecting something precious from harm. Peace, in this passage, is not a fleeting feeling or passive emotion. It is an active, protective presence.
Was it worth it? The question still reverberates.
For weeks after returning home from Sri Lanka, one question keeps surfacing. "Lord... was it worth it?" It isn't really about my fractured wrist, or the surgery, or the panic, or the sleepless nights or the loss of my wedding and engagement rings. Those were simply the final chapter of a much longer story.
As we flew out of Sri Lanka, I felt as though I had been torn away before I was ready. There had been no proper goodbye and no sense of closure. As the plane lifted over the palm trees and lush green landscape, a message arrived from a dear friend. "In a few moments you will be off the shores of Sri Lanka. Thank you, my friends, for the investment in our lives. Only heaven will tell you the impact you've had."
Love was never meant to pour endlessly from a broken cup. Yet many of us have tried, exhausting ourselves, hoping our efforts would be enough to fill another, or to silence our own emptiness. But marriage, like all human relationships, was never meant to replace the love that only God can give. It is not a solution to our brokenness, but a sacred space where our brokenness is revealed, and redeemed.
There is a quiet mystery in marriage, where joy and sorrow mingle, and our deepest desires are laid bare. We come with our hands full of hope and leave with hearts shaped by grace. In the ordinary moments of pain and tenderness, God invites us to see each other anew, not as fixers or saviours, but as fellow pilgrims learning how to love.
