Dump the Baggage

I couldn't tear my eyes from the glowing numbers on my bedside clock — 1:23, 1:24, 2:08, 3:12. I grabbed my cell phone, hit 2 on my speed dial and listened. Again, my husband's voice mail, "Hello, this is Brian. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

I left another message. "Please call me. Where are you?" My messages had become increasingly more frantic as the night wore on. I'd gone from trying to cover my fear to expressing irritation to outright panic. Where was he? Unbidden, thoughts and images began to flood my mind. He's with another woman. I knew this marriage was too good to be true. I thought I could trust him, but can I really trust anyone?

Brian and I had been married only a year when I came apart late that night. He traveled regularly, and up until that evening, I'd never worried. We always talked and prayed over the phone before we went to sleep. That night had been no different. On this occasion, however, I called back a half hour later to share something I'd forgotten to tell him—and he didn't pick up. Instead of assuming the best — that he turned off his phone, fell asleep or simply didn't hear it — I jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

In the morning when Brian received my messages and called, he was genuinely baffled. His phone had been charging in another room. He'd been sleeping. Why was I so upset?

I had to ask myself the same question, and it was then that I realized how much of my old emotional baggage I'd carried into my marriage.

The baggage of betrayal: I'd been hurt before. In a relationship prior to my marriage, I'd been devastated when I was discarded for someone else. I'd never dealt with that pain. It took willpower to set that baggage down, to reaffirm over and over that Brian was not the man who had hurt me. I picked up and applied truth: Brian is a godly spouse who will stay true to me. I repeated that reality when worry swept in.

The baggage of control: I wanted to ensure that I would never hurt again. Somewhere inside, I believed that if I anticipated the bad things that could happen, I could protect my heart in advance of the pain. I imagined the worst then envisioned myself handling it. But these scary thoughts became a prison that tormented my mind.

This baggage was tough to set down, but in its place I picked up more faith in a sovereign God. I could look at my past and see how God had cared for me through every hardship. He'd brought joy and unexpected gifts, one of those being my loyal husband. I had to replace control with faith. Yes, at some point in my marriage, I would hurt. At some point Brian would mess up. I would mess up. But by leaning on faith, both of us would find correction and comfort in God.

The baggage of fear: "Love . . . always trusts" (1 Corinthians 13:6-7). "Perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18). These verses rang in my ears. If I truly loved my husband, I had to set down my baggage of fear and replace it with trust. My choice; my decision. Even when anxiety caused my heart to pound, I would literally talk myself into embracing the truth. I love Brian. I'm called to trust him. The rest is up to God.

Today I find that trust comes much easier. I rest in Brian's faithfulness and God's work in our marriage. I'm glad that I have set down the baggage of betrayal, control and fear and replaced them with truth, faith and love — it makes the marital journey that much lighter and my sleep that much sweeter.