The Hardest Trial
Marriage can often feel like the most difficult trial that a person goes through in this life. Relationships are hard, but marriage often stands as the most uniquely challenging of all. It’s where our expectations, hopes, and sin are introduced, and left to fend for themselves. Yet, at the same time, marriage can also be the most wonderful relationship we experience, fulfilling our deepest need in the most profound way. It’s both a refining fire and a nectar of the soul.
I don’t often write about marriage for a couple of reasons. First, as someone who primarily communicates theology, marriage isn’t my primary focus. My calling has always been to teach theology in ways that are Christ-centered, accessible, and foundational to all else. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, in some situations, it could be unfair to my wife, Kristie, especially if I reveal any personal struggles we might have. As a public figure, airing such things would seem manipulative, not only to the audience but to her as well. This is a line I have tried not to cross.
That said, after 27 years of marriage, I can’t ignore how deeply I see marriage connecting to theology, often in the most profound ways. It is a place where our character is refined, and our faith is tested in profound ways. For some, I have often compared marriage to hanging on a cross, enduring pain and difficulty, seemingly without any hope of reprieve. To fully understand this comparison, let me dig a bit deeper into what hanging a cross was like, and let me introduce you to a bit of church history you may not know.
The Agony of the Cross
To the Roman world, crucifixion wasn’t just a method of execution—it was the most excruciating and humiliating form of punishment imaginable. In fact, that is where we get the word “excruciating.” It literally means “from the cross.” Victims of the cross were stripped completely naked, exposing them to public shame and ridicule. They were often flogged beforehand, their flesh torn and bleeding, with their bodies nearing collapse. After which they were nailed or tied to a wooden crossbeam, hoisted into the air, and left to die slowly and painfully.
Death came from suffocation, dehydration, blood loss, or sheer exhaustion. Some lasted for hours, others for days. All the while, birds might pick at their wounds, and passersby mocked, laughed, or turned away in horror. Crucifixion was designed not only to kill but to strip away every ounce of dignity and hope.
Now, imagine that, but in the form of a relationship. That is what I mean when I say that marriage can feel like hanging on a cross.
Hang with me as I dig into a bit of Christian history. (Man, I hope this works…)
Faith on Trial: Kaisar Kyrios
During the Diocletian persecutions of the early fourth century, Christians faced immense pressure to renounce their faith. Roman officials demanded that Christians publicly proclaim Καῖσαρ κύριος (Kaisar kyrios), meaning “Caesar is Lord,” and offer sacrifices to the Roman gods or to the emperor. For a Christian, this was unthinkable—it was a direct betrayal of Jesus Christ, who they recognized as the only Kyrios (Lord).
Some Christians opted to endure the horrors of crucifixion rather than renounce their faith. Once on the cross, the situation sometimes changed. After hours, days, or the threat of watching their loved ones suffer the same fate, they gave in and cried out Kaisar kyrios to save themselves or their family. For others, the temptation came in the form of a libellus, a certificate falsely certifying that they had performed the required sacrifice to Caesar. Think of it as being like a fake driver’s license that gave one reprieve of interrogation. These choices were haunting, not just because of the compromise involved, but because of the deep fear, anguish, and pressure that drove them to make such decisions.
Marriage as a Cross
This historical backdrop offers a pair of glasses through which to view some marriages. For many couples, marriage, in the hardest moments, can feel like hanging on a cross—where every moment is a struggle, and the temptation to “come down” by leaving becomes overwhelming. Divorce can be likened to either crying out Kaisar kyrios or obtaining a libellus—a way to say, “I can’t bear this anymore.”
I can’t imagine the pain of those early Christians who faced such choices, and I cannot judge them. As much as I want to believe I would never deny Christ, I can’t fathom the terror of hanging on a cross, watching my loved ones suffer, or enduring endless agony. Similarly, I find it hard to judge someone who feels they cannot endure the pain of a broken marriage any longer. While I believe that God calls us to persevere, I also know how complex and unique each situation is. Some have the strength to endure; others simply do not. We can’t always understand why.
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Justice or Mercy? The Church’s Response
The early church soon found itself faced with a profound dilemma: what to do with those who had either obtained a libellus or come down from their crosses, making the required sacrifice to Ceasar or the gods? A group called the Novatians took a hardline stance, insisting that such people had irrevocably betrayed their faith and should be excluded from the church. In contrast, many opted to extend mercy to those who failed, emphasizing reconciliation and mercy. They recognized the crushing weight these Christians had borne and sought to reflect the grace of Christ, not the judgment of men.
Here is where I have always seen these two coming together – marriage and hanging on a cross. A hard marriage can be likened to hanging on a cross. While the ideal is to remain faithful and endure, we must also extend grace to those who wave the white flag of defeat. I don’t mean to sound like I’m compromising. I dare not fail to emphasize the importance of never raising that flag. Marriage, like faith, is not about having all you dreams come true, but about a commandment to endure even when it feels like a cross and the libellus would be so much easier to sign. But for those on the outside, standing at the foot of the cross, watching someone suffer and decide to finally acquiesce and come down, it can be an opportunity for grace and restoration, not condemnation.
To Those Who Hang
Let me be clear: I’m not saying that all marriages feel like hanging on a cross all the time. Many marriages are filled with joy and love, with struggles that, while painful, don’t overwhelm. But for some, marriage can feel like a near-constant trial, with few moments of reprieve. To those in such pain, I want to speak to you directly.
I know how heavy that weight can feel. I know how tempting it is to come down and seek relief. You are not alone in that struggle. Many others have hung where you are, wrestling with whether to endure or to let go. In fact, I am certain I have made Kristie feel like she is hanging on a cross many times and I am grateful she has endured!
While I believe God calls us to persevere, I also know that I cannot speak to your individual situation. I have not hung on your cross. I don’t know your pain, your circumstances, or the complexities of your marriage. Please don’t interpret my words as a judgment of your choices. I also understand that there exist biblical allowances for divorce—such as adultery and abandonment—but even within those, each situation is unique. Only you and God can fully understand what you are facing.
If someone is divorced and it was their fault, they are most certainly not beyond the grace of God. Donatism was eventually condemned as heresy by the church. All historic Christianity stands in opposition to it, Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestantism. This should remind us that mercy and restoration are at the heart of the Gospel and should also be at the heart of the church. If you know someone who has divorced, offer them compassion, not judgment. We are all broken people in need of God’s mercy.
To those still hanging on the cross of a difficult marriage, trust in God’s providential will. He sees your pain and is with you in it. Perseverance often feels impossible, but His strength is made perfect in weakness. Marriage can be both the hardest and the most wonderful relationship we experience. As I said at the beginning, it is God’s primary refining fire where He shapes us. And it’s also a gift where His generosity is evident as our most basic need of companionship is realized in the most perfect way.
Let us hold up the ideal of perseverance while extending grace to those who stumble. Let us be a community that reflects the mercy of Christ, walking alongside one another in both joy and sorrow. And let us trust that, in all things, God is working for the good of those who love Him.
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