Walking With Christ

April 22, 2005 – April 22, 2025

Ecclesiastes 4:12
And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.(ESV)

We never got the dream trip.  Never found the perfect moment.  Never carved out a stretch of time when everything aligned just right.  Every time we thought we were close—something came up.  A setback.  A crisis.  Another weight on the already-overloaded scale of life.  That’s been the rhythm of our marriage.  Not ease.  Not luxury.  Not rest.  But survival—together.  One inch at a time.  One fire at a time.  One “we’re not quitting” at a time.  And here we are.

Twenty years.

---

I wish I could say I planned something beautiful for you.  I didn’t.

I ran out of time and strength trying to fix things I should’ve let go of sooner.  There are things I still don’t understand about how we made it through what we’ve made it through.  But I do know this:  You are the reason I’m still here.

You, Alona—the woman who stood beside me when I was more anger than man.  The one who endured not just storms, but silence.  Who carried burdens that weren’t yours to carry, but carried them anyway.  You didn’t just marry me.  You refused to abandon me, even when I didn’t know how to love you well.  You are a Ruth in a world of Orpahs.  A Proverbs 31 woman in a culture that trades virtue for vanity.  Your loyalty has never been loud—but it has been unbreakable.

Proverbs 31:25–26
(25)Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.  (26)She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.(ESV)

There were so many nights you could have left.  So many reasons to call it quits.  But you stayed.  Not out of fear.  Not because you had no choice.  But because you believed in us—even when I didn’t deserve it.

---

We’ve never had the fairytale.  No castles.  No cruises.  No golden anniversaries spent strolling down European cobblestones.  But we’ve had something stronger:  Faith forged in fire.

Love that crawled through wreckage.  Vows that didn’t age into ease—but into endurance.

James 1:12
Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.(ESV)

So no, I’m not ready for this anniversary.  But I’m grateful for it.  Not because we arrived at some romantic finish line—but because we never stopped showing up.

Twenty years of holding on.  Twenty years of grace upon grace.  And by God’s mercy…we’re just getting started.

Ruth 1:16–17
(16)But Ruth said, “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you.  For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge.  Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.  (17)Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried.  May the Lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you.”(ESV)

I love you, Alona.  Even when I fail to show it.  Even when I fall short of the man I want to be.  You are still the best “yes” I’ve ever made.

---

Father, You have seen every year, every burden, every silent night where love had to be a choice more than a feeling.  You alone know the full weight we’ve carried—not just as husband and wife, but as two flawed people trying to walk as one.  We praise You not for perfect years, but for preserved ones.  For holding what we could not hold, for patching the cracks that should have split us in two.  Thank You for twenty years of mercy, not magic.

For every moment You stepped between us and the cliff.  For the grace to begin again after failure.  For the strength to show up when love felt buried beneath the rubble of exhaustion and unmet expectations.  Thank You for a wife who walks in wisdom, in kindness, in grit, and in quiet, unshakable loyalty.  Thank You for every hidden miracle we were too tired to notice at the time.  You’ve been faithful—even when we forgot how to say the words.

Forgive us, Lord, for the times we spoke more to our pain than to each other.  For the bitterness we held onto too long.  For letting discouragement speak louder than gratitude.  For all the times we focused on what we didn’t have, instead of who we still had.

Let the years ahead bear fruit from the years we thought were wasted.  Turn old wounds into deep wells of wisdom and compassion.  Let laughter return to dry places.  Let us not just survive the coming years, but thrive in them—on purpose, with joy.

Give us space to rest.  Give us margin to dream.  Give us eyes to see the gold You’ve been hiding just beneath the dirt.

And for every couple still digging—still hoping—still holding on by a thread…let this be the year they strike something solid.  Let them find You in the mine.  Let them discover that their endurance was not in vain.

Yours is the faithfulness that outlasts our frustration.  Yours is the love that teaches us how to love.  Yours is the kingdom where covenant still means something, and we give You all the praise.

In Jesus’ name we pray, amen!