Audio Transcript

Welcome back to the Ask Pastor John podcast. Today we have an email from an anonymous listener: “Hello, Pastor John! All through the Bible we see angels speaking to believers. They speak sometimes in person and often in dreams. In that light, the worship pastor at my church recently mentioned to others that he had regular talks with one angel. I don’t see that dynamic so evident in Scripture — of ongoing conversations between believers and angels. It tends to be more of a monologue, mostly. Someone else in my church suggested the worship pastor is likely speaking to a demon!

“In APJ 1618, you addressed the ministry and purpose of angels today, but not how the angels interact with believers today. Do they? Are angels involved in our daily lives to this degree? Should we expect to hear from an angel? And would it even be possible to have an ongoing dialogue with an angel? Could a believer, claiming to talk with angels, actually be talking to a demon?”

Yes, it is possible that a person who claims to be talking to an angel may be talking to a demon. And the reason I say that is because the apostle Paul said in 2 Corinthians 11:14, “And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” In other words, it’s part of Satan’s very nature that he’s deceptive and would love to distract the saints (at best), and delude them and destroy them (at worst), by drawing off their focus from Christ to angels. It is also possible that a person who claims to be conversing with angels is simply conversing with images or voices in his own head that are not in fact either demons or angels.

Four Reasons for Caution

But my main concern with people who claim to be conversing with an angel is not primarily that they are experiencing demons or hallucinations but that they are being drawn away from Christ and his provision of all that we need in our communication with God and our getting help from God. So, let me give four reasons from the Scriptures for why I think pursuing conversations with angels is a mistake.

Groping for the Supernatural

First, the Old Testament gives repeated warnings against turning away from the revelation of God revealed in Scripture through his appointed prophets to alternative means of communication with the supernatural. For example,

There shall not be found among you anyone who burns his son or his daughter as an offering, anyone who practices divination or tells fortunes or interprets omens, or a sorcerer or a charmer or a medium or a necromancer or one who inquires of the dead, for whoever does these things is an abomination to the Lord. (Deuteronomy 18:10–12)

Now, I know that angels are not listed in that group, but the question we should be asking is this: “Why is God so resistant to our seeking means of communication with the supernatural other than himself and his appointed means of discerning his will, his ways, and his character through his word by his Spirit?” The question is not simply whether that list in Deuteronomy is exhaustive. The question is, Why is it even there? And there seem to be at least two answers in the Old Testament context for why it’s there.

First, seeking to communicate with the supernatural in these ways puts us in the category of pagan nations who are constantly groping around for some medium by which they can find absolute truth so as to make life worth living. This is considered an abomination by God because of how badly it reflects upon God and his having revealed himself to Israel in his appointed ways, which is the other reason why these mediums are considered an abomination.

They don’t just put us in the category of pagan nations, but they give the impression that God’s not real, or that he’s begrudging in telling us what we need, or that he’s insufficient in himself to provide the truth we need to live by. So, I would say that there is good indication in the Bible that we should be very, very cautious about seeking out ways of communicating with the supernatural that give the impression that God and his provision of Christ and prayer and his word and Spirit are inadequate.

No New Testament Examples

Second, I would point out that in all the epistles of the New Testament, which give us guidance for how the church is to live, there are no instances of ordinary Christians or apostles conversing with angels. Now, I know that doesn’t amount to a prohibition, but it certainly does amount to a caution and to an indication that such conversations are not essential for maturity in Christ. Indeed, they may be a sign of immaturity because it takes certain measure of maturity to benefit fully from the beautiful paths of communication God has provided in his word, in prayer, and by his Spirit.

‘Not Holding Fast to the Head’

Third, listen to Colossians 2:18–19:

Let no one disqualify you, insisting on asceticism and worship of angels, going on in detail about visions, puffed up without reason by his sensuous mind, and not holding fast to the Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God.

“When people begin to crave visions and to communicate with angels, something has gone wrong.”

Now, I can imagine that one person might respond to this text and say, “Nobody’s talking, Piper, about worshiping angels — just conversing with them.” Well, right, I know that, but here’s the point of the text: When people begin to crave visions and to communicate with angels, something has gone wrong with the way they are holding fast to the Head, Jesus Christ, and his all-sufficiency in nourishing the body of Christ, holding the body of Christ together, growing the body of Christ.

Paul is concerned not simply with people who are worshiping angels, but they’re replacing Jesus as the Head, esteeming angels more significant than the paths of nourishment and strength and help and encouragement that God has appointed through the Head, Jesus Christ.

God’s Open Throne

The fourth pointer away from conversations with angels, toward God, simply builds on what I just said in number three — namely, that God has provided such a precious, sure, and solid pathway to mercy and grace and help that it is an insult to him to act as though we need paths into the supernatural besides what he has taught in his word.

And I’m thinking here especially of Hebrews 4:14–16, which go like this:

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then [in view of this amazing high priest that we have, in view of his amazing capacities to sympathize with us] with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

“It is an insult to God to act as though we need paths into the supernatural besides what he has taught in his word.”

Now, what the writer to the Hebrews is laboring to do here is help us feel the wonder and the solidity and the sufficiency of the way God has made mercy and grace available to us — namely, at the throne of grace (this is God’s throne, not angelic intermediaries), through the finished work of the great high priest, Jesus Christ, in prayer, by faith, with the help of God’s Spirit.

Maturity in Ordinary Means

So, for those reasons, I would strongly discourage anyone from seeking to communicate with angels. I would regard the claim that one does such a thing to be a mark not of maturity but of immaturity in thinking that something more glorious, more satisfying, more amazing, more helpful, could be found through angel conversations than through the glory of God’s word and prayer by the Spirit in the fellowship of God’s church.

I was watching the Super Bowl this past February, expecting to see the newest commercials from Doritos and Budweiser and Coca-Cola, when this unusual music began to play. On the screen were still shots of kids doing adorable things — helping each other, hugging each other, wrapping arms around the family dog. At the end, the words came up,

Jesus didn’t want us to act like adults. . . . He gets us.

It was a heartwarming riff on Jesus’s teaching about being childlike. I liked it. This is the Super Bowl, with hundreds of millions of people watching, and a 30-second spot comes up commending Jesus. I love Jesus. I worship Jesus. Yeah, let’s commend Jesus.

Then another spot came up in the second half. Harsher music. Pictures of adults demonstrating manifest outrage and hatred, in each other’s faces. Sometimes it’s a physical altercation. All of it from the last three years. Then the message:

Jesus loved the people we hate. . . . He gets us.

And my response was, Ouch and yes.

The ads are from a non-profit looking to “put Jesus in the middle of culture.” They paid $20 million for the Super Bowl ads and plan to spend $3 billion in the coming years.

So, I’ve seen more of these “He gets us” ads in recent months. Sometimes, I like them. Other times, I cringe a little, concerned it will give a skewed impression of Jesus.

Jesus was judged wrongly.Jesus had strained relationships.Jesus welcomes the weird.Jesus was fed up with politics.Jesus invited everyone to sit at his table.Jesus chose forgiveness.

Then last week I took my twin sons to their first Minnesota Wild hockey game at the X, and now there’s a hockey “He gets us” on the thin digital screens around the side of the arena: “Jesus had great lettuce, too.” “Lettuce” means hockey hair. (I had to ask my boys for help on that.) I don’t want to be too picky, but I wonder if “great lettuce” might represent some mission drift for the “He gets us” campaign. Admittedly, it doesn’t speak to me personally like it would if it said, “Jesus was losing his hair, too.”

Hebrews 2 is a “he gets us” passage. But it’s also clear that he not only gets us, but he helps us. He rescues us. Saves us. Getting us is good; as we’ll see, that can lead to real, genuine help for us in our need. But getting us, on its own, doesn’t do a whole lot for us. Yes, he gets us. He really does. And this is a slice of what we celebrate in Advent. But there’s no real joy in Advent if he only gets us and doesn’t also help us, save us, change us, lift us up. In Advent, we celebrate that he became man, fully human like us, not just to be one of us, but to save us.

Our Pioneer and Champion

Hebrews 2:10 has a name for Jesus that I’ve come to love, and it’s hard to find an equivalent word for it in English. The ESV has founder: God “make[s] the founder of [our] salvation perfect through suffering.” Founder is a good translation, but I want to fill out the meaning for us a little bit.

The Greek word is archegos, and it’s built on the word archē, which means “beginning.” So archegos, we might say, is “the originator” or “the beginner.” The problem is we mean something else by “beginner” in English: “a person just starting to learn a skill or take part in an activity.” Jesus is not a “beginner” in that sense. Rather, he’s a “beginner” in the sense that he’s the leader who goes first and others follow him. Like a pioneer. This archegos, however, doesn’t just go first into uncharted territory, but into battle. So “champion” or “hero” could be a good translation of archegos as well.

Again, we don’t just stand back and watch this champion fight from afar. We’re connected to him and come with him. He doesn’t just fight for us; he leads the charge, and we follow in his wake. So, Jesus as our archegos, is both our hero and example. He is “the beginner” in that he births the people, and he leads us into the battle, and he rescues us through faith in him, and then he also inspires us as our model to follow. We benefit from what he does for us (and couldn’t do for ourselves), and yet in his work for us, he opens up a path that we might follow in his steps.

And Advent is where our “beginner” begins, so to speak. That is, Advent is the beginning of his humanity, and his getting us, saving us, and helping us. But Advent is not the beginning of his person. So, let’s walk with Hebrews chapter 2 through the Advent drama of our “beginner,” our “champion,” from the very beginning until now. There are four distinct stages here in the drama of Hebrews 2 — four movements in the story of Advent.

1. Jesus Did Not Start Like Us

Our champion, our “beginner,” did not begin like we did. His person was not created like ours. He is a divine person, the second person of the eternal Threeness. His humanity was created, conceived in Mary’s womb and born in Bethlehem, but not his person.

The book of Hebrews begins with glimpses of his godhood. Before any world existed, he existed and was “appointed the heir of all things” (Hebrews 1:2). Then through him God (the Father) made the world. “He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” — he is distinct from the Father in his person and same as his Father in divine nature. “And,” verse 3 adds, “he upholds the universe by the word of his power” — as only God can do.

So, the story of Advent begins before time, before creation, before “the beginning.” Jesus himself is God, and if you have eyes to see his divinity, it’s all over the New Testament.

Greg Lanier, in his recent book Is Jesus Truly God?, shows how the deity of Christ shines on just about every page in the New Testament:

He is preexistent before Advent, and before creation.
He is the unique “Son” of the heavenly Father, eternally begotten.
He is called “Lord,” which refers to God’s Old Testament covenant name (Yahweh).
He receives worship.
He relates to the Father and Spirit in ways that reveal his person as one of the divine Threeness.

So, let’s get this clear before we talk about his humanity and how he gets us. In Jesus, a man did not become God. Rather, God became man. We say that Jesus is fully God and fully man in one person, but we do not mean that he became God and man at the same time. There is a profound asymmetry in the story of the God-man: he has been God for all eternity, and he became man at the first Christmas.

2. Jesus Was Made Like Us

Now we come to his first Advent and the first Christmas, when God made God in the image of God. Without ceasing to be God, God the Son took on humanity. He added humanity to his divine person.

Humanity, as a created nature, is “compatible” with the uncreated divine nature. Deity and humanity are not a zero-sum game. The divine Son did not have to jettison any eternal deity (as if that’s even possible) to take on humanity. Uncreated deity and created humanity operate at different levels of reality, so to speak. Without ceasing, in any way, to be fully God, the Son took on our full created nature and became fully human. As Hebrews 2:17 says, he was “made like his brothers in every respect.” Look at verses 11–14:

“For he who sanctifies” (Jesus) “and those who are sanctified” (us) “all have one source” (that is, one nature). “That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying, ‘I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.’ And again, ‘I will put my trust in him.’ And again, ‘Behold, I and the children God has given me.’ Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things . . .

We’ll come back to finish verse 14, but let me just say about these Old Testament quotations in verses 13–14 that Pastor Jonathan explained them so well in a previous sermon as pointing to Jesus’s solidarity with us in our suffering.

“Flesh and blood” in verse 14 refers to our humanity. We are flesh and blood, and so Jesus became one of us — to which Hebrews 4:15 adds, “without sin.” Sin is not an essential part of what it means to be human. Jesus was fully human, made like us in every respect, and “without sin.” So, then, what’s included in this “every respect” of our humanity? What does it mean for Jesus to be fully human, like us?

One of the biggest moments in the collective formation of early Christians in saying what the Scriptures teach about the humanity of Christ is a church council called Chalcedon in 451 AD. The Chalcedonian Creed says Jesus is “perfect in Godhead and also perfect in manhood; truly God and truly man, of a rational soul and body.”

Jesus has a fully human body. He “became flesh,” which means at least a human body. He was born and grew and grew tired. He became thirsty and hungry. He suffered, and he died. And his human body was raised and glorified, and he sits right now, on heaven’s throne, in a risen, glorified human body.

But becoming fully human also involved taking “a rational soul,” or “the inner man,” including human emotions. He marveled. He expressed sorrow. “He was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled” and he wept (John 11:33–35). And he rejoiced and was happy. John Calvin memorably summed it up, “Christ has put on our feelings along with our flesh.”

A “rational soul” also includes a human mind (in addition to his divine mind). So, Jesus “increased in wisdom” as well as in stature (Luke 2:52), and most strikingly, he says about the timing of his second coming, “Concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Mark 13:32). With respect to his humanity, and his human mind, there are things he does not know. His human knowledge is limited, like all human minds. Yet, at the same time, for this unique two-natured person of Christ, he also knows all things with respect to his divine mind. As one-natured humans, this is beyond our experience and ability to understand, but divine and human minds are compatible. And this is no contradiction for the unique person of Christ, but one of his unique glories.

So too with his human will, in addition to the divine will. Jesus says, “I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 6:38). Jesus, speaking with respect to his human will, says that he came “not of [his] own will” but his Father’s. And that divine will, while not proper to his humanity, is proper to his person as God. When he prays in Gethsemane, “Not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39), he aligns his human will with the divine will, which also is his as God.

So, Jesus has a fully human body and emotions and mind and will. And verse 11 says, “That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers.” He is not ashamed to call you brother (or sister). Jesus could have been a brother in our nature, and yet ashamed to call us his brothers. But mark this, he is not that kind of brother. He’s not ashamed of his siblings. He’s not worried that our weaknesses and immaturities, or even our follies, will mar his reputation. He’s not stuck with us and embarrassed by them.

That’s not how Jesus is with me, and with us. I want to be like Jesus is with me. I want to be like this as a dad, and be like this as a friend, and be like this as a pastor: not mainly concerned about how others’ behavior reflects on me, but mainly concerned about my brother or sister in Christ, so that I can be loving, rather than self-focused — especially in the moments when love is needed most.

3. Jesus Suffered Like Us

Being fully human, he suffered both with us and for us.

Suffering is an important aspect of his being fully human, and saving us in his full humanity. If he was only God, he could not suffer. God is “impassible,” unable to be afflicted or be moved from outside. But not humanity. So, Jesus becoming fully human involved not only a human body and reasoning human soul, emotions, mind, and will, but he also entered as man into our fallen world, which is under the curse of sin. And even though he himself was not a sinner, he was, as a creature, susceptible to the afflictions, assaults, sufferings, and pains of our world. He entered into our suffering, and did so in two senses.

One, he suffered with us. He knows what it’s like to suffer in created flesh and blood. And verse 10 says that he was made “perfect through suffering.” This language of “perfect” or “complete” is important in Hebrews. Verse 10 doesn’t mean that Jesus was imperfect, or sinful, but that he was made ready, or made complete, for his calling, as our champion and High Priest, through his suffering. Having become man, he was not yet complete, not yet ready, but needed to be made ready, complete, “perfect” through suffering. Hebrews 5:8–9 says,

Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him.

Which leads, then, to a second sense in which he suffered: for us. Not only does he, as man, suffer with us, but he, as the God-man, suffers for us — in our place, in our stead. This leads us to the connection between suffering and death. Verse 9 introduces “the suffering of death” (of Jesus suffering and dying for us): “by the grace of God he [tasted] death for everyone.” Jesus not only experienced suffering with us but for us. He not only gets us, but saves us, and that “through death.”

Now look at the rest of verse 14 and verse 15, and two achievements of Jesus for us through this human suffering of death at the cross. Pick it up in the middle of verse 14: Jesus shared in our humanity “that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.” The first achievement through his human death is that he defeated Satan. His suffering unto death conquers the one who had the power of death.

We should not forget this as a Christmas theme: “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8). How? “He appeared in order to take away sins” (1 John 3:5). They go together. Jesus destroys the devil by taking away sins. The weapon Satan had against us was unforgiven sin, “the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands.” But through the suffering of death, Jesus “set [this] aside, nailing it to the cross” and in so doing, God “disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in [Jesus]” (Colossians 2:14–15).

So, the first achievement is destroying Satan, and second in Hebrews 2:15 is delivering us. How? We might expect what follows in verse 17, but not expect the next verse. Verse 17 gives us one reason that he had to be made like us in every respect:

so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.

We had sinned and needed covering before the holy God. We had a “record of debt that stood against us” because we were humans with sin. So, to rescue us, God needed not only to become fully man, and suffer with us, but suffer for us, unto death, that his death might be for us, his brothers, the death we deserved for our sins. That’s what it means when the high priest “[makes] propitiation for the sins of the people.” The people’s sin against the holy and infinitely worthy God deserves his righteous, omnipotent wrath. And in becoming human, and suffering with us, and unto death, for us, Jesus absorbs the just penalty due us that we might be delivered from hell and the justice due our sin.

And verse 18 gives us one more reason, embedded in the first, for why Jesus was made like us, in every respect, including suffering and then dying in our place.

4. Jesus Helps Us Right Now

Verse 17 is amazing in that he deals with our sin, and gets us right with God, and verse 18 is amazing in that he’s ready and eager to help us right now. He both makes atonement for us in his death, and he rises again, and sends his Spirit, that he might help us in our struggles right now. Look at verse 18:

For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

Because Jesus suffered, he can help us in our suffering. That is, because he suffered unto death to atone for our sins, he is able to indwell us by his Spirit, draw near to us in our time of need, and help us in whatever tests and challenges and trials and temptations we face in the ongoing struggle of the Christian life. Jesus not only saves us out of sin’s curse, but also through sin’s temptations. He atones for our sins, and stands ready to come to our aid in temptation and in our own suffering. Having saved us from sin’s guilt, he is poised to save us from sin’s power.

So, as Hebrews 12:2 says, Jesus is not only the founder, the archegos, the beginner, the champion of our faith, but also the finisher. He’s not only the beginner but finisher. Our champion not only leads the way and goes ahead of us to face the foe, but he also doubles back to check on us, to help us, to keep us.

What Child Is This?

Let’s close, then, with this question: What help do you need this Advent? How are you suffering? What’s your present trial (or trials)? What’s testing your faith most right now? What’s tempting you to sin or give up? What’s your biggest need this Advent?

In Advent, we don’t just remember what he did in the past; we remember who he is in the present. Christmas is not only a was; it’s an is. Get his help. He not only gets us; he helps us. So, as we come to the Table, let’s ask for his help afresh. What need do you bring to the Table this morning? How do you need his help to persevere?

The one who meets us here is fully divine, the second person of the eternal Godhead, who in his happy, expansive, overflowing, gracious nature, took our full humanity to come rescue us. And he suffered with us — and for us unto death. He destroyed Satan, and he delivers us from our sins. And he rose from the dead, and ascended, and is now enthroned in heaven, where he stands ready, by his Spirit, to help us in the fight of faith.

Today marks seven years of marriage for me and my wife, Faye. Since our wedding day, I’ve learned that year seven has become something of a milestone for marriages (largely, it seems, thanks to a 1955 film, The Seven Year Itch).

The “seven-year itch” refers to the time when one or both spouses grow tired of the marriage and begin to long for something new. While studies have never proven seven as the precise number, various studies have shown that divorce statistics do rise and peak somewhere between five and ten years. I’m not sure, however, that we really needed sophisticated studies to tell us what most marriages know by experience: marriage is harder than we expect. And if we’re looking for reasons to leave, we’ll have plenty to choose from.

Why else do we make vows? “Wedding vows,” Tim Keller reminds us, “are not a declaration of present love but a mutually binding promise of future love” (Meaning of Marriage, 79). “I take you, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” Being yours might cost me more than I ever thought I could give — more than I can now imagine — but I promise to never leave you. Vows tie the future fragility and difficulty of marriage into the very beauty of the ceremony.

In his introduction to Herman Bavinck’s The Christian Family, James Eglinton writes,

In this fallen world, there are no promises that marriage, for all its capacity to be beautiful and enriching, will be a lifelong series of increasing physical delights. In reality, a healthy marriage will probably lean more on the Sermon on the Mount than on the Song of Solomon. (xiii)

After seven years (and seventeen dreams), marriage has been far harder than either of us expected — and far sweeter. We still love and lean on the Song of Solomon — healthy marriages, however challenging, are captivating romances worthy of such poetry. But we also have learned, perhaps all the more, to climb the mountain and sit longer at the feet of Jesus.

Seven Words for Seven Years

Marriage is not the focus of the Sermon on the Mount — it’s only addressed explicitly in 2 of the 107 verses — but the three chapters do provide some profound counsel for marriages, young and old. After seven years with Faye, Jesus’s commands, warnings, and promises fall with fresh weight and relevance for the gospel drama we’ve been given to live out together. The following seven words, in particular, have stuck with me as we take our first steps into year eight.

1. Take care where you build your home.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. (Matthew 7:24)

We’ll begin where Jesus ends. After teaching on anger, lust, anxiety, integrity, vengeance, forgiveness, giving, fasting, praying, and more, he closes with a vivid picture of two kinds of homes: one built upon sand and the other on rock. Lives (and marriages) built on sand will fall. Lives (and marriages) built on rock will stand: for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health — in other words, whatever may come. “The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock” (Matthew 7:25).

What does it mean to build a marriage on the rock? It means to build our marriages on obedience to Jesus. “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” It means actively putting Jesus and his words at the center of our rhythms, our romance, and even our conflict. Are we still looking for creative ways to draw him further into our marriages — reading together, praying together, singing together, thanking him together, enjoying him together? Every marriage learns quickly that it takes special, Spirit-filled intentionality to keep from drifting off of the rock.

Regarding conflict, what if, when tension arises in our marriage, the decisive factor was more often what Jesus wants most? To be sure, we won’t always know precisely what Jesus wants, but a commitment to trust and obey him above all else, and in every situation, would resolve many tensions in many marriages, wouldn’t it?

When the forecast darkens, and the clouds crawl in, and the winds begin to howl, and the showers start to fall, we feel whether our love is built on solid ground (or not). Are we more committed to obeying Jesus than getting our own way? Do his words or our feelings consistently win the day? Are we ready to take the hard, costly steps he calls us to take — again? Is our house built on rock — or on sand?

2. Guard your fidelity with vigilance.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. (Matthew 5:8)

Perhaps the clearest word for marriage in the Sermon on the Mount comes in Matthew 5:27–32. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:27–28). In other words, don’t just avoid the forbidden woman’s bed; avoid even imagining yourself in her bed. Go to whatever lengths necessary to guard the garden of your purity and intimacy.

If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. (Matthew 5:29)

Does that kind of Spirit-filled zeal and vigilance surround our marriage bed? Do we ever talk about how we’re each battling sexual temptation? Are there men and women in our lives who know how to hold us each accountable? The deepest marital happiness comes to those who fight together for purity, because we get to see more of God together: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

This faithful pursuit of purity also comes with a commitment to never leave — not in year five, or seven, or fifty-seven. “I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery” (Matthew 5:32). To be sure, marriages wrecked by infidelity will require special care and counsel and grace, but his word remains clear: “What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate” (Matthew 19:6). He says that precisely because of how much easier separation will feel at times.

3. Correct each other with humility.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. (Matthew 5:5)

Marriage, we all know, is sanctifying — perhaps more sanctifying than any other human relationship (although parents may sometimes wonder). Marriage sanctifies us for at least two great reasons: (1) a husband and wife see more of each other’s sin than anyone else could, and (2) the covenant ties us uncomfortably close for a lifetime, sins and all. We see the worst in each other and yet have nowhere to go.

How my wife responds to my sins has a disproportionate effect on how I see myself and my sin (and vice versa). As spouses, we sit at a critical, sensitive, and sometimes painful window into each other’s souls. The question is how we will handle that burden and privilege. Jesus tells us how:

Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, “Let me take the speck out of your eye,” when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. (Matthew 7:3–5)

How different might our marriages be if we simply and consistently implemented these three verses? The longer we stare at any given speck — months, years, even decades — the harder it can become to see our own logs. In the vulnerability of marriage, it is all the more important to confront and correct each other with humility — with a patient awareness of our own failures and sins and a resilient hopefulness for change and growth.

4. Don’t murder each other.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. (Matthew 5:9)

We may assume that sexual immorality has ended more marriages than any other threat — and it surely has crushed and devoured many. I wonder, however, if unchecked anger has ended more.

You have heard that it was said to those of old, “You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.” But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment. (Matthew 5:21–22)

“By all means, guard your marriage bed from adultery and pornography, but also guard it from your own anger.”

Jesus makes no room for unrighteous anger; he elevates it alongside murder. And yet how often have we made room for it in our homes? How often have we felt justified while our hurt feelings burned hot within us? And how often have we responded to unrighteous anger with more unrighteous anger? By all means, guard your marriage bed from adultery and pornography, but also guard it from your own anger.

Guard against anger, and when a fire breaks out, don’t leave it unaddressed. Jesus continues,

So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. (Matthew 5:23–24)

Different marriages will have different rhythms for reconciliation; the important point is to have one. Do offenses consistently get addressed in your relationship — or not? Do you lovingly correct each other? Are you quick to admit when you’re wrong or to confess when you have failed? Do you still gladly forgive each other? Couples who avoid hard conversations forfeit some of the sweetest moments in marriage.

5. Delight to forgive each other.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. (Matthew 5:7)

Because every marriage is a union between sinners, forgiveness will be our constant guest. Children may come and go, jobs may come and go, houses may come and go, but the need for forgiveness will remain. So will forgiveness be a welcome and celebrated guest in your home — or an unwelcome and resented one?

Jesus warns us, including husbands and wives, “If you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matthew 6:14–15). Does any relationship test our willingness to forgive — and to persevere in forgiveness — like marriage? Jesus says an unwillingness to forgive is spiritually lethal. Mercy, on the other hand, breeds security and joy: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”

Forgiveness is costly, and in some ways, all the more so in marriage. Marriage reveals more of us than we want to show, and it opens us to more pain than most relationships. And we inevitably must forgive the same sins again and again and again (seventy times seven feels about right). It’s good to remember that this love, as much as any on earth, is meant to look like the cross (Ephesians 5:25) — so we shouldn’t be surprised that it sometimes feels like a cross. In fact, that feeling may be proof we’re doing something right.

6. Cover your marriage with prayer.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. (Matthew 7:7)

Prayer is as powerful and important outside of marriage as it is in marriage. But if we are married, nothing will shape our marriages more. Of the dreams we had going into our first seven years of marriage, this is the one we feel most desperate to cultivate in our next seven. I long for the words, “Let’s stop and pray about that,” to become as common as any in our home.

How many marriages (my own included) suffer unnecessarily because we refuse to take advantage of the all-powerful ear of heaven? Is our marriage really too hard for him? “Everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened” (Matthew 7:7–8).

Has marriage begun to feel unsustainable? Have you lost hope that things will get better? Have you quietly stopped praying for your husband or wife? Then take Jesus at his word: keep asking, keep seeking, keep knocking. Your Father won’t give you a stone. He won’t give you a scorpion. “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11).

7. Seek God before each other.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. (Matthew 5:6)

Many spouses who leave a marriage wouldn’t have trouble staying for another day or two, but they can’t imagine staying for thirty or forty more years. This is precisely the kind of thinking Jesus confronts in his teaching on anxiety:

Do not be anxious, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” [or “How shall we stayed married?”] For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. . . . Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:31–32, 34)

“Fix your eyes on God today, and leave the next ten, or twenty, or fifty years to him.”

Do you feel like you’ve exhausted everything you could possibly give, sacrifice, and endure in marriage? Does being married tomorrow feel impossible? Don’t worry about tomorrow. Fix your eyes on God today — on his righteousness, his kingdom, his promises, his resources — and leave the next ten, or twenty, or fifty years to him.

This doesn’t mean good marriages ignore the future. Husbands, in particular, bear a responsibility to look ahead and anticipate opportunities, needs, and dangers, like any good shepherd would. Good marriages require regular forethought and planning. How else could preserve and nurture meaningful, fruitful oneness? Faithful marriages do not ignore the future, but they’re also not anxious about the future. They know they don’t need a lifetime of marital strength and love today; they just need enough for another Sunday, and then another Monday, and then another Tuesday.

God doesn’t call us to predict or bear our future troubles. He calls us to bear today’s troubles in the grace and strength that he provides for today. Look at the birds of the air. Look at the lilies of the field. He will keep your marriage, and strengthen your marriage, and even beautify your marriage — as you each focus most on seeking him. “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” Jesus says, “and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33).

Do you want the real key to a healthy and happy marriage? The real key, whether at year seven or year seventy, is to pursue something before and above marriage — to pursue someone before and above your spouse. Blessed are the husbands and wives who hunger and thirst most for righteousness, for they shall be faithful, hopeful, and satisfied.