- "Whose Wife Are You?" (As I've been asked by our Pastor's wife to teach a Bible study series on marriage, the husband/wife relationship and what submission should look like, this is, I think, one of the most biblical, best bits I've read to date. What do you think?)
"...the way my wife submits to me, as the leader in the home, may look quite different from the way another wife submits to her own husband. The big picture should be the same—he is to lead his wife and she is to follow within the role of a helper. But the particulars of that leading and following will vary a great deal based on the two personalities, based on the dynamics of the relationship, based on the stage in life, based on their individual strengths and weaknesses."
- "Be You" (Loved, loved, love this... maybe because I could have written this article myself, even as I sometimes catch myself still trying and striving to be someone I think I should be... but not who God created me to be or who my husband needs me to be.)
"I am learning to be careful with using the phrase “Biblical model” to justify our lifestyles. There is a Biblical model of God commanding a man to marry a prostitute.
I am trying to work this out in my own life. I know that God wants my heart, my affections first and foremost. What that looks like will be as varied as the people God has chosen."
- "Just whose wife am I anyway?" (Some excellent word pictures and thought provoking stuff in this post.)
- "Looking back at life's decisions..." (Not exactly intended to relate specifically to marriage - but it was in this context that I read the article and it seems to add to the discussion.)
"Sylvia Plath once wrote, 'I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet ... and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion. ... I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.' "