She Came to Me – Part 1: The First Night
What follows is real. It still hurts. It happened just five days before I started writing this all down.
For the story to really make sense, I need to tell you about my wife and our marriage. Some of it is boring, some ugly. But if you can sit through the explanation, stay until the end.
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We got married at twenty-one. Because our parents refused consent, we had to wait until we both reached the legal age for contractual consent in our country. We were engaged for two years, biding our time.
When we finally married, there was no parental blessing, just a clear statement that our marriage would never last. Her parents gave us a second-hand microwave because they didn’t want to waste money on something they believed was doomed.
A few months before the wedding, my wife phoned me in tears and told me I needed to come fetch her. When I arrived, all her belongings were stacked in the front yard. Her father had kicked her out because she refused to cancel the wedding.
I was still living with my parents. Overnight, I had to get a rental one-room apartment, a car, and figure out our survival. It thrust me into adulthood, but not into manhood. Looking back, I was still a boy. I had no idea.
Sex was great in those first years. Sometimes I’d be sat in a chair outside at the picnic table, and she’d wear a short dress and climb onto the table in front of me. Giggling, she would spread her legs and say, “Look what I have.”
And make no mistake, I couldn’t keep my hands off her—or out of her. She was like a wild mare. Free. Running without restraint. We weren’t kinky. We just discovered each other without guidance or shame.
Then life happened.
Two years into our marriage, I kissed another woman. Nothing more. Our sex, once spontaneous and frequent, dwindled. Resentment toward my wife began to grow. I became frustrated, angry, and felt rejected.
Over the next ten years, it only worsened. I worked hard. I tried to provide everything she desired. But my resentment grew.
Then came the breaking point.
While I was traveling internationally, via spyware—I was already that far gone—I discovered she was having explicit conversations with another man and planning a weekend away. I was furious and powerless. All I could do was phone her and rage.
To this day, I don’t know if she went on that weekend. That uncertainty still hurts.
A few weeks later, we moved internationally to a different continent. She stayed behind for two weeks. We had one night of intercourse. Three weeks later, when I saw her again, she was pregnant.
I didn’t even know if the child was mine.
She continued speaking to the other man in secret. It was killing me. My resentment swelled even more. By then, we’d been married twelve years. Our son was born, and the distance between us grew with his age.
For over two decades, I tried everything to reconnect. Nothing worked because I resented her. Every day, there was a battle inside me: to love her or to hurt her emotionally. The urge to hurt her usually won.
This year, after nine months of no touch, no sex, no love, no hugs, I decided I was done with the marriage. Unbeknownst to me, she had started planning her exit a month earlier.
One evening, the puppy snapped at me on the bed. She made a snide remark, and something inside me broke. I took my pillow and moved to the loft, an open area above the kitchen, the only space on the second floor. It became my safe place.
That night, I cried. I prayed that God would return desire for my wife—and only my wife. My pornography addiction at this stage didn’t help either. I prayed she would see me as a man and love me again.
God, it turns out, does not take instructions from men.
God opened me up. He showed me my resentment, the darkness in me that had spread through every cell. He showed me I was broken, spiritually sick, and gently revealed that I was number one on the asshole list.
For six weeks, I lived in that loft. Praying. Crying. Wrestling with myself. Wrestling God—though in hindsight, I was like a baby trying to fight his father.
I was done.
Then terrified of being alone.
Then angry. Oh, I was so very angry.
For those six weeks, I did not yell at her, my son, or even the dog a single time. Before, I would explode regularly. Now, I was empty.
I functioned. Leaving the loft before my son woke up, I acted the loving father.
After the first week, something shifted. I stopped reacting to her emotional outbursts. I smiled sadly and walked away when she exploded.
By the end of week two, I felt sad seeing her pain—but part of me believed she deserved it.
Weeks three and four blurred together. Some nights I slept. Other nights, I wrestled with myself, with God, my anger, and my resentment.
Week five nearly destroyed me. I wasn’t working properly and feared losing my job. She has a medical condition; my unemployment could kill her. Sometimes that sounded like a solution. (Yes, I was that far gone.)
I gave God and our marriage seven days. Seven days to fix this, or I was out.
That Friday came. Then Saturday, we shopped for groceries together. Sunday, she wanted to visit a new store. We drove an hour. It was a disappointment. My heart broke for her. I hate crowds. I wanted to go home. She wanted lunch. At first, I refused. I wanted to be away from the woman I resented. But on the way home, we stopped at a country house turned restaurant. We had a lovely meal.
She cried. I thought this was it. Surely, she was about to tell me she’d met another man and was leaving with our son.
Instead, she took my hand and said it was the most beautiful gesture anyone had ever made toward her. I was confused. I loved her, but I resented her. And yet, there was a small hope she still loved me.
The next day, Monday, I decided I was done. No more breadcrumbing. No more leading her on and rejecting her.
I told her to make coffee and come to the loft. We needed to talk.
I took her hands and cried. I apologised. What the hell? This wasn’t my prepared script!
I confessed that I had resented her for over two decades because of sex. Then I admitted the truth: she never rejected me. I never had the balls to take her like a husband should. I lacked confidence. I was a wimp. I apologised for emotionally neglecting her.
This conversation was going terribly wrong. This is not how you announce a divorce.
I asked her to find the energy to forgive me and try to love me.
She told me she had already decided she was done. She told God she was done. If He wanted her married, He needed to send her a man, not a child.
My heart fell. I wasn’t angry, I was devastated.
I told her I would no longer seek her approval. My identity was no longer tied to her validation. God made me strong, but I had been weak. No more.
I told her I was reborn. I would walk this earth alone if I had to, but I would bow to no woman ever again.
I told her I would not stay while she took another man. She is my wife. Only I will know her as a man knows a woman.
I told her I had built a sexless marriage, and I refused to live there anymore. If she didn’t leave today, she needed to know I would pursue her with my whole being—my spirit, mind, and body. No more excuses. No more headaches. No more being tired. No more, “I need to do washing.” She is my wife. I will bed her for her pleasure and mine. I will hold her until she begs for me. She could leave, or this marriage would no longer be sexless.
She left the loft. I thought it was over.
Later, she brought me lunch. She took my hand, kissed me, and gave me coffee.
What the hell?
We sat down. She cried and told me how deeply I had hurt her. She thought I had already decided to leave when I moved to the loft, and she was preparing to be destitute.
I apologised again. (Wrong script. Again.)
She said she couldn’t wait for me to do what I said before in the loft.
I was certain I was hallucinating.
That evening, she appeared wearing a dress. When she wears a dress, she may as well be naked in my eyes.
It was dark outside. She told me to go sleep in the loft. Rejected again, I thought. I hugged her, kissed her goodnight.
She added, “Make sure there’s a pillow for me.”
My world shattered.
I went upstairs. I waited. For the longest time, she didn’t come. I was drifting off when the stairs creaked.
She arrived, still in the dress.
She came to me.
She lay beside me. I held her—and damn it, I started talking. Apologising. Confessing. Again. I apologised for the man I had become—for my resentment, for yelling at her nearly every day.
I apologised for doing things for myself only and leaving her with the scraps. (Wait, that was wrong again. I had believed that she had breadcrumbed me—I did not abandon her. After my wrestling with God, my understanding had begun to change, but was still so frustratingly conflicted.)
She cried. She explained how I hurt her.
Okay, this is not how sex works, I thought. The woman arrives, gets naked, satisfies her husband, then rushes off to shower, right?
But I apologised for hurting her so deeply.
She turned to me. While lying down, she lifted the hem of her dress over her hips and up to her middle. She had underwear on.
I reached out, and as I began to remove it, I stopped. I asked her, “May I?” pointing with my eyes at her undergarment.
She looked at me and said, “Please . . .”
I had told her that morning I would take her, no excuses. And now, after she lifted her dress in invitation, I paused and asked permission to remove her panty? Something was off.
I shifted my body and placed my head at her feet. I have always loved to look at her pussy. It is beautiful. But I dragged my eyes up to hers.
She handed me a bottle she had brought up with her. I had missed that. No wonder she had waited so long to come to the loft! She had taken body-safe aromatics, mixed them with a carrier of her preference, and gave the mixture to me for lubrication.
I applied some of it to her folds from top to bottom. I touched her clit. No foreplay. Before, she hated it if I skipped foreplay.
She moaned and gripped my manhood. I was naked too, oiled up by her. Her hand was hungry on my penis, milking it.
I promptly put my thumb in her pussy and reached deep. Her wetness folded over my thumb and my palm, swallowing my hand.
I expected her to jump up and yell at me. She is typically modest. No, prudish is a more apt description. But tonight, she moaned. I felt the muscles inside her pull at my thumb, milking it.
What the hell? After all we’d put each other through, these reactions seemed so out of place.
I started moving my other hand’s middle finger on her clit with a sense of urgency, but somehow I kept it slow, barely moving, with light pressure. I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, her mouth open in a silent scream. I was overcome with desire, but stopped dead in wonder and confusion.
Was this the same woman as my prudish wife? My “sex is for having children” wife? My “I need to masturbate him to an orgasm so that he leaves me alone” wife? The woman who hates it when I even make a joke about sex? Yet here she was, on her back, legs open in invitation, moaning like a vixen.
I thought I was dreaming, having a porn fantasy after years of waste. But I could hear the sounds of the house. This was real.
Then, while I moved my finger up, down, and in circles on her clit, while my thumb was being sucked on by the opening of her love channel, an orgasm overtook her. Her body pushed my thumb out of her, and she pulled my other hand away from her clit.
Okay. Now she will jump up, shower, dress, and fall asleep, I thought.
She caught her breath and looked down at me, my head still at her feet. Then she took hold of my manhood, forgotten until this point, and started to move her small, feminine hand up and down. She stopped at the top, sliding her thumb over the tip, mixing the lubricant with the pre-cum seeping out.
Okay. This was new.
I boldly reached out for her pussy again. She clenched her legs closed, but I was stronger. I opened them again. I put my thumb in her again. She tried to stop me, but half-heartedly, fighting her own urge to clam up. I roughly pressed on her clit, moving my finger up and down with pressure, with urgency.
She threw her head back and opened her legs wide. My modest, prudish, formerly boring wife . . . underneath, she was a vixen. Sex-starved. I saw it in her face. She was getting frustrated by my lack of knowing how to please a woman.
Then I did something I did not understand. I removed her hands from my penis. Unthinkable. I needed release. Me first! . . . But not tonight. Tonight was different.
Using both of my hands, I took her left hand and placed it on her pussy, moving her middle and index fingers to open her folds. Then I took her right hand, placed its middle finger on her clit, and started moving it over the little nubbin with my hand.
Her eyes flew open. She gave me a “what the hell are you doing” look. I felt her legs tense, initiating a movement to get up.
I looked at her. I did not physically stop her, just said, “Please show me how you masturbate. Use your hands until you cum. I want to see your orgasm. Show me how it’s done.”
I imagined she was pissed. She looked at me with… was that shock, maybe disgust? I couldn’t tell anymore, but the recent years had trained me to assume it was something negative.
Something made me keep trying anyway. “Please. Show me. Please cum again. I want to see you.”
I placed my thumb at her vaginal opening, looking her in the eye. Slowly and gently, I started to penetrate her. She was wet, dripping, warm . . . and welcoming. I took my thumb out and repeated the movement, eyes locked on hers. Slowly in. Slowly out. A little faster. A little deeper. Slowed down. Then sped up. Faster. Deeper. Then paused. Her muscles pulled me back in with a rhythmic movement. I pushed in gently, but with hunger. Though I wished it were my manhood, my thumb would do for now.
Breaking eye contact for a moment, I looked at her pussy. She had it stretched open with one hand. The other hand rhythmically stroked her clit. This was a hand that knew exactly what to do. No hesitation. No guessing. Just pleasure. My prudish wife, masturbating like a vixen! No shame, just hunger.
She went faster. Her eyes closed. Her head pulled backward like someone was pulling her hair from behind. Then her body tensed. She started shaking uncontrollably. I looked down. My hand was inside her, gripped tightly by her pussy. I watched her attack her clit with feline hunger.
And then she squirted.
WHAT. THE. HELL?! The speed with which we had gone from no sex to such extreme eroticism was jarring.
I was the length of my arm away, but the liquid hit me in the face with force. I thought she’d peed, but it hit me in the mouth, and I tasted it. It was thin and watery. No smell, no taste.
She had just cum and squirted in my face like a fire hose—with more force, more volume than even I have when cumming. It lasted about three seconds. She showered me with her liquid. This was better than any fantasy. I was dumbstruck.
She reached for my manhood again, moving her hand up and down with urgency. After I’d just been squirted on, it didn’t take much, and I erupted over her naked breasts.
She stopped, opened her eyes, and looked at me.
There I was at her feet, mouth open in ecstasy, my long beard dripping with her liquid. I was wet. It felt like I had been hit with a small bucket of water.
Her eyes grew wide. She put her hand over her mouth. She pulled the blanket over her head. “Oh no, did I pee on you? I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t know what happened,” I said honestly, still not sure exactly what it was. I told her she hit me right in the mouth, but it was water, not urine. Thin. Watery. Not slimy. Not slippery. Somehow the opposite of slippery.
She looked at me. I licked the tip of my long beard to taste it again. She pulled her head under the blanket and groaned.
Her legs were open, her pussy was still dripping wet, she had cum on her tits . . . and she was hiding her head? My prudish wife was hiding the wrong part. I stared at her pussy, red and open like a flower, petals to the sides. A rhythmic movement was visible in her opening.
Typical male that I am, I took my phone from the bedside table and googled what just happened. ChatGPT confirmed (at least as accurately as AI can) that her eruption most likely came from the Skene glands near the urethral opening. I thought that was only for peeing. I didn’t know a woman could do that. I thought squirting was peeing. I learned that few men know this body function, and just as few women. It was an involuntary reaction, and women are often unaware when it happens, because the Skene glands have little to no nerves.
I was fascinated.
She said maybe we should go shower. My wife had been a prude and super hygienic. She hates being dirty.
But here she was, spread-legged in my bed, lying in my cum and her squirted liquid, while I stared at her pussy in awe, and she only suggested, “We should probably shower.” That was such a mild reaction compared to what I had come to expect.
What the hell. So much had become so different so fast . . . and so inexplicably.
In 26 years, I had never ejaculated on her. Dirty and sticky did not exist in that old world.
I could only hope that this vixen, my wife, had been awoken by my masculine love.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Epilogue for the evening:
We went to shower, and she first sat on the toilet to urinate. Her muscles were tensed up, her clit and pussy lips swollen shut like a bee had stung her there. Twice their usual size, they were red, swollen, and angry. She could not pee.
She got in the shower, frustrated, and began to wash. Suddenly, she gasped and apologised. Apparently as the warm water relaxed her, she had just accidentally started to pee.
Now, here’s another thing: she HATES urine in the shower. If my son or I pee in the shower and she smells it when she showers, she goes absolutely ballistic.
She looked at me. I laughed and said, “Yeah, now you are the one peeing in the shower.” I was enjoying her shock.
She lowered both her hands to her pussy. I thought she was trying to stop it.
Instead, she took her swollen folds and clit in her fingers, turned her body, and purposefully redirected her yellow stream over my lower body, penis, legs, and feet. She doused me like a fireman putting out a burning house. She had a lot of pee. She swayed back and forth until she was empty. Her clit stood up, still so swollen as she did this that it almost looked like a proud little penis, tall and prominent.
When she was done, she said, “I have marked you, dear husband.”
She washed, exited, went to bed, and told me I better be there when she wakes up, with coffee.
I lay down next to her, took her hand, and prayed. Out loud. I thanked God for whatever this was, because this was better than any fantasy. I prayed that He heal our hurt, guide us, protect our household, and protect us to meet another dawn.
She looked at me, surprised, but I was more so. I don’t pray. Not out loud anyway. This had been a day and night of many firsts!
As we fell asleep, I realised something: God can heal. He can even resurrect a marriage that was long dead, with the decaying process presumed complete by both parties. He can change people, their hearts and behaviors, even the words they plan to say. We only have to surrender to His Spirit.
The story is heartbreaking, but the healing is beautiful.
Thank you for your comment. It touches a very sore place deep within my being. Heartbreaking indeed.
As the last six months unfolded, and as we finally began having conversations that were nearly three decades overdue, things moved from heartbreaking to utterly devastating 😢
By the time I reached parts 4 and 5 while writing, I genuinely did not think there would be another chapter to post here — nor another chapter left for us in our actual lives together.
What started as writing to process pain slowly became something else entirely: brutal honesty, long-suppressed truths, and two people finally seeing each other without the masks we wore for most of our marriage.
Not to be a tease, but watch this space. If all goes well, there should be a new chapter every Friday for the next month or two.
Some things — especially trying to repair and rebuild a 28-year marriage — cannot be rushed. Healing has its own timing. Much like an avocado, you cannot force it ripe before its time without ruining it.
This is very touching! Your transformation and your wife’s transformation to being repentant and kind were wonderful. The sexual reawakening was sexy n beautiful! Thanks for sharing!
Many of us have some conflicts in our marriage and being able to work it out is very fulfilling. We had a bit of a sexual reawakening too. It was when we retired then got some marriage/sex therapy. Now, (although age n health issues have slowed us down) our lovemaking/sex is more fulfilling than ever. As we’ve aged over the past ten years our sexual experiences together have been more adventurous too!
One of the saddest things is looking back with eyes carrying far more wisdom, and finally seeing the pain of days long past for what it truly was. Even more painful is feeling the lost time itself — almost like an accusation each day when I look at her and realize what could have been.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment.
I will judge this story righteously, based on Biblical truth. Before that. I did not read the whole thing. It is terribly long.
To any single person like me reading this. Notice how he & assuming she, were NOT saved when they were young.
Notice how they did NOT honor their mother and father but chose to get married in rebellion, although there was love and as a result it did NOT go well with them in the land. Notice how with NO PARENT's BLESSINGs this marriage was doomed, not with divorce necessarily, but with so much sin, rebellion, wrong doing, suffering in the consequences of sin, sin based uncertainty, bitterness that leads to defilement, hatred, confusion & chaos, signs of those who are CURSED because of their sinful lives.
Then Notice how God does NOT CARE to negotiate with sinful men. What He will do is give His grace & mercy to be SAVED, or after saved, REPENT AND RENEW your minds.
Ask yourself honestly. Do you just come here […] but not actually care about God's will in who you marry & if they are a Christian or not? Do you too want to suffer lifelong consequences and kickstart your marriage after 20 years of your life has been wasted thanks to your own foolishness? or Do you want to have the right start & with God's grace & your co-operation with God a good ending too? The wisdom of the book of Proverbs stands PARAMOUNT!
Forgiveness does not negate the consequences one will suffer. Ask King David. You WILL reap the death you sowed in your sin even AFTER repentance. BUT GOD will help you to overcome, and return what the "locusts" have eaten. But you WILL feel it. Not just feel the freedom from the yolk of sin and in that way God is NOT mocked! Justice is given & Justice is taken by what Christ did on that cross.
This story of God's Restitution is NOT an excuse to make the same or worse mistakes. I am happy that their marriage was saved. However, there will be consequences (demonically) that their offspring will suffer on account of the Parent's iniquity, but if the boy for himself choses to be SAVED and then obey God, with God's grace. Certain spiritual doors can be shut.
While we are grateful for God to help the two of them. Let us be careful in our own decisions and be submissive to the fact that EVERY believer NEEDS God's grace or you are going to make a [mess] of your life, and regret it after repentance.
"Character maintained is better than recovering a lost character" – Dr. Phil's wife.
May the Lord help us all.
Thank you to MH for posting a very real reminder & lesson in this marriage. That not all marriages start well. But what matters is how it ends. Thank you to MH for being real with how unpredictable, unexpectable, unknowing life is.
I wish this author and his wife the best they can have now and may the grace of God be there for them. I thank you for your honesty in sharing so much. I do not judge you. I leave that to God.
@CamogotAmmo
While I appreciate your Biblical focus, respecfully, I think you're overstepping in some areas.
First, how can you presume to "judge righteously according to Biblical truth" when you also didn't even read the whole story? Yes it's a long one, but I would encourage you to read the full available context before immediately launching into some observations that may or may not be true, and sound quite critical.
Second, details about their spiritual status are not given, so I think it's presumptuous to assume spiritual status based on a few bad outcomes. Now clearly, much of the fruit described from years 2 to 20+ of this marriage are not the fruits of the Spirit, or the fruits of believers in healthy relationship with God, but I still think it's improper to assume their spiritual status based on bad relationship outcomes and a few sinful acts. This kind of marriage problem can happen even to believers, because we're still fallen and sinful people. It shouldn't, but it can and does.
Third, it can be difficult to communicate tone through text sometimes, but I'm hearing a pretty critical tone that doesn't show very much grace. You say you don't judge the author at the end, but most of the comment sounds like pretty ruthless criticism to me. As Christians, we should always show grace, especially when people are confessing their sins and past mistakes in a very vulnerable way. While it is good to warn readers against making the same mistakes in the story, it should also be done with more grace toward the author, and with recognition of their efforts to repent and live more righteously. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn't mean it to sound overly critical, but that's how it came across to me.
And finally, I think you're misappropriating the Biblical command to "honor your father and mother" (Exodus 20:12) to mean "obey your father and mother", which is not how it applies to grown adults. You ARE correct that getting married with the parents' approval is better, as it preserves family relationships and support networks, and also tends—not perfectly, but generally—tends to indicate that the engaged couple is fit for each other, as the parents haven't seen any reg flags with their discernment gained through their extra years of experience. However, parental approval is still an imperfect standard, because parents are imperfect people, and their approval is in no way a moral requirement for marriage. I see nothing in the Bible that suggests that God disapproves of a marriage that happens without parental approval. Honoring our parents in no way necessitates complete obedience into adulthood. How we honor our parents changes over the years. Children are called to obey their parents, but once children become adults and gain independence, that relationship changes. They must still honor their parents (treat them with respect), but are no longer under their parents authority. Going against parents' wishes is not always bad, certainly is not always sinful, and in some cases is even REQUIRED if the parents' wishes are in conflict with God's will or commands. Certainly, once a man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife (Genesis 2:24), neither of them are under their parents authority in any way whatsoever, because they are now a new family unit. The author's hardship was caused not by the couple marrying against their parents' wishes, but by other sinful choices.
Based on how you close your comment, I trust you are operating in good faith, and I hope you see my challenges are made in good faith too, as encouragements toward a brother in Christ. You have some good things to say, I'm just trying to provide a perspective on how I think you can judge more righteously according to Biblical truth, to reference your opening statement.
Thank you for your comment.
Although you repeatedly say that you do not judge us, I would be dishonest if I said I did not feel the sting of your words as judgment against both me and my wife.
At the same time, perhaps there is some truth in that discomfort. Revelation 12:10 speaks of “the accuser of our brethren” standing before God day and night, accusing them. I have no desire to hide behind pride, excuses, or carefully crafted appearances any longer.
What you do not see, however, is our actual spiritual life beyond these chapters. You do not see the years my wife spent pulling this family toward Christ while carrying shame, fear, illness, and burdens silently. You do not see how the church itself gossiped about her affair, how women looked at her with disgust and contempt while we were desperately trying to strengthen our faith and survive our marriage.
You do not see the prayers prayed over our home, our son, our lives, and the ordinary quiet moments where grace slowly rebuilt what sin and selfishness destroyed.
You do not see the serious medical conditions she survived that left even doctors in disbelief that she still walks this earth today.
And yes, your comment is terribly long as well — perhaps because you felt the need to make sure every sin in our lives was properly addressed.
But strangely enough, Scripture is full of broken people. Hosea married a prostitute, and God used that marriage to reveal Israel’s own unfaithfulness, while at the same time revealing His steadfast mercy, forgiveness, and relentless desire to redeem.
I no longer fear public judgment nearly as much as I fear living falsely before God. James 5:16 tells us to “confess your faults one to another.” I would rather be judged openly by men than silently hide behind masks while my heart remains unchanged.
The blood of Christ washed us clean. The husband and wife we once were no longer exist. “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” — 2 Corinthians 5:17
I carry grief for many things, but I no longer carry shame for speaking honestly.
If this story causes some to judge, so be it. But I hope there is at least one couple reading this who recognizes themselves somewhere inside the silence, distance, bitterness, secrecy, or pain — and realizes it is not too late to confront it before another twenty years disappear.
And to the bride of my youth: even knowing everything I know now, I would still walk this road with you again. Because without walking through fire, I may never have known the depth of grace, forgiveness, confession, mercy, and dependence on God that I know today.
“Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” — Romans 5:20
KnowMe, thank you for sharing this very tough and vulnerable story. It sounds like there's a lot of difficulty still ahead that you've written about, and likely more than has not yet happened. Whatever path this story follows, I sincerely pray for God to be at work in both you and your wife, to provide true repentance and transformation in both of you, and supernatural healing to the wounds that have been caused.
Thank you for your kindness and prayer. I truly mean that.
One thing this journey has taught me is that healing is rarely as simple, clean, or immediate as we wish it would be. There are still wounds, questions, fears, and truths ahead of us that neither of us can fully predict yet.
But for the first time in many years, it feels like we are at least walking honestly before each other, before ourselves, and before God.
Whatever comes next, I pray that Christ continues to transform both of us, because I honestly do not think either of us are the same people we were even six months ago.
Thank you again for your grace-filled response.
I will not apologize for the "sting" of the righteous Biblical judgment I shared. I clearly mentioned that I am not judging (that is in condemnation) either you or your wife. Yet, the righteous judgment as Christ taught us to exercise has that sting. But its not condemnation.
2ndly: We will all be at the Bema Seat judgment where Christ will judge us for the ways we lived our lives AFTER our salvation. Therefore since, no spiritual status was provided above in the above story, the readers have the freedom to navigate a perspective that best reflects the image of reality from the article above. When no spiritual status is shared, ambiguity can arise.
3rdly: It is ridiculous to state that God approves things that goes against the 10 commands. God does not do such things. It is evident in this article that they have suffered vastly due to their sins, disregard for God's 10 commands. Especially command 05: conditional to honoring parents. They suffered greatly because of that, including their wrong doing of committing adultery (sexual immorality). There is no escaping that. There is only forgiveness and extending healing towards each other. I see, in this article, they have and still do extend such healing.
4thly: God took His chances to SAVE them, and restore them according to His nature and word. Therefore there is nothing wrong in the 1st response made by me. Human beings have a hard time accepting that a lot of their beliefs about scripture do not stand the testing of scripture, although they are forgiven. Human beings like to believe that because of the precious blood of Christ there is no ramification felt within the body of the Saints. They learn in practical experience, there are, but not to the extent of condemnation. I do not dare! to condemn these 02. I extend my love and blessing in God, but will point the finger, where the ramifications are felt, in the waters of life.
5thly: I have not dared to make the final conclusion and have left that to Christ. What I have dared is to take the article as disclosed by the author. Specified I have read as much as required, but not the whole length, to showcase how God is not mocked in the way people live their lives, both before and after salvation, in connection to being forgiven. This teaches and reminds us to really fear God and to abide in His love, not trusting our own strength. This is not hatred, this is a strict call to adhere.
6thly: Yes there is no condemnation for those in Christ as the author, just like us, has no other defense except the blood of Christ. Therefore now they have a good chance to live in a manner worthy of their upward calling, but it does not prevent them from suffering the consequences of things done in the past. Also known as the "ripple effects of sin".
7thly: The lesson here is to humbly learn from their mistakes. Extend them the best wishes we can, which I did. & Realize that scripture does not fail. That we have a duty as believers to judge on the standard of God's word & walk in that.
While I understand that the blunt and straightforward tone of my Biblically righteous judgment can cause a sting. I do not apologize for that sting. And make known, that if a single man like me in my assessment can hurt that much, how much more the Bema Seat of Christ? Forgiveness does not absolve us of the consequences, and our accountability before God. I still wish the best to the author. May God help you and Us readers too.
Wow. Thank you for the reminder of why Christ spent so much time among sinners instead of the Pharisees — because broken people usually understand grace far better than the self-righteous ever do.
And here I thought the final judgment seat belonged to Christ alone, for “we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ” (Romans 14:10).
Do not worry though, friend. Save some of that righteous judgment for the upcoming chapters as well. If the goal is to catalogue every possible sin, failure, consequence, and weakness in our lives, I assure you there will still be plenty left to address.
CamogotAmmo, your application of the commandment to honor parents would logically follow that my marriage to an unbeliever was fine because my dad approved it and supported it even though my Reformed friends did not. You didn't address PatientPassion's point: "However, parental approval is still an imperfect standard, because parents are imperfect people, and their approval is in no way a moral requirement for marriage."
My parents also approved of premarital sex, use of pornography, taught postmortem salvation (which is why they were fine with my marriage to an unbeliever), annihilationism, and other heterodox and possibly heretical teachings.
I honor and love them, and they did many right things as well as wrong things, but if – as you seem to keep suggesting – we must obey parents in all things, then that means obeying where they directly go against Scripture. And that is the issue with your approach to that commandment that PatientPassion and others have been addressing.
@kdm1984 — I agree with you completely. PatientPassion said it well, and your example shows why parental approval is not a moral standard for marriage.
I can say something similar from my own life. A father who allegedly drove — or caused — his wife to overdose while she lay in her sick bed, while he was in an affair. Another who, by his silence, did nothing while his daughter suffered childhood sexual abuse. I have learned that what is called a parental “blessing” can sometimes be a curse. Honoring parents is not the same as obeying them in everything, especially when they are far from God.
I want to shift the tone of this thread slightly — not away from God’s righteousness, but from an Old Testament Judge only, to the Jesus of the New Testament. Jesus is not weak. He is the ultimate Judge. But in Luke 15 — the lost sheep, and especially the lost son — the Shepherd and the Father do not belittle the one who wandered. They run. They speak love, acceptance, and forgiveness before dominion and shame.
The elder brother — always in service, always “right,” always outside the feast — could not rejoice in grace. He wanted his brother chastised, not restored.
So I ask, for myself as much as for anyone reading: when do we accept the grace purchased by the blood of Jesus and believe we are forgiven — not only in theory, but enough to live — instead of standing forever under the chastisement of those around us, including the righteous brother who was never lost and never learned what mercy costs?
I do not deny sin or consequence. I deny that grace is a footnote after the sting.
Wow, this broke my heart and yet gave me hope all at once. Thank you for the vulnerability in sharing about your marriage. Praise to God that He can heal and restore even the most hopeless situations and relationships! Some elements of your story echoes that of my parents; I see the unmet needs and the resentment, and I pray they will both be awakened and transformed by God. You and your wife will be added to my prayers, brother. This is a hard road, yet it will be so worth it!
@LovelyLonelyLady — Thank you for your compassionate and graceful message.
The road following the months after this first story was hard, but it is getting better — in ways I never thought it would be.
As to the vulnerability: when this was written I had no view of publishing it, and when it was published, I had not shared it with my spouse. I feared sharing my own vulnerability with her, and I feared her reading how I had shared hers.
That did change, if anyone wonders, and is now with her consent — but I will tell about that revelation in the recount of when I shared the stories with her one Sunday afternoon, and lived to tell the tale.
I love the reunion that it seems God blessed. The revelation within this story is akin to Psalm 51. The way we will know the Greatness of our God, and that includes the Garden of Eden style love/sex relationship with our wives in our covenant relationships is when we have a broken and contrite heart! As I read it above, after you were finally broken to a similar place, as was Job, that life was/is is not principally about you, God’s gracious gift flooded forth upon you and your wife.
Some years ago, I decided to take the approach that my wife’s sexual pleasure was more important than my own. I truly have a deep fulfillment by serving her sexually (and other ways). Surely I always desire my own orgasm but that is not my goal. My goal is her pleasure! Even the times when she has been so spent after multiple orgasms that she can’t muster the energy for me, I relish in my time to stroke my cock with the head against her flaming hot and wet cunt until I cum. Selfless love is what God has showed us. Our covenant relationships will be immensely blessed if we do the same!
@1blessedman: Thank you for your insightful message. It reminds me of Genesis 3:16:
To the woman he said, “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”
The husband ruling over the wife was never intended as an instruction — it was part of the curse. I ruled over my wife in the past with ugly disregard for her needs, and you all know how that ended.
I have changed my view to break that curse. Instead, I now also submit to my wife. I put her pleasure before mine. I serve her sexually and emotionally. I am more active in the house — cleaning, making food, laundry. I attend more to things outside the house, the yard and alike. And I can confirm: my own pleasure, as given by her, has increased seventy times seven in my life. For the first time in my life I had to tell my wife just to leave me alone a bit — even threatening to sleep in another room to get some rest — and my desire for her has increased just as significantly.
And in the same way, she submits to me — but not as a one-way command from Genesis 3. Ephesians 5 holds both parts together. First, we are to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Then: the wife submits to her husband, and the husband loves his wife and gives himself up for her, as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her.
I read that husbandly “give himself up” as full submission to his wife — even unto death — not as disregard for his own life, but as ensuring hers: her safety, her dignity, her pleasure, her healing. That is the submission I am learning. When she submits to me in return, it is not under the old curse of rule, but within that mutual, Christ-shaped covenant. It feels as though we are more aligned in our lives. A “no” does not feel like rejection, but rather a promise of reuniting our bodies and becoming one later — increasing the pleasure of anticipation.
I read a lot but rarely comment. Your story made me weep… mostly because it is a story of gospel healing and gives hope for my own healing journey.
[…]
KnowMe, thank you for sharing, keep boasting in your weakness, it is the power of the gospel.
Deeply appreciate Marriageheat
[From MH: Thank you! We appreciate all of our community members too!
Sorry to remove part of your comment, but in the interest of letting drama fade, we're trying to minimize anything that could inflame the issue of past critical/insensitive comments. However, we appreciate your defense of KnowMe and his journey of repentance and healing.]
@aussiepastor — Thank you for your comment, especially since you say you read a lot but rarely comment.
This is exactly why I risk exposing some of the deepest, most vulnerable thoughts and events from our journey, mine and @Mistress Vixen’s. If it gives even one person caution where caution is needed, and hope where hope is needed, then the exposure is worth it.
One of the things this story says, at least to me, is that there is no easy “never.” We are twenty-eight years in, and here we are still finding a new path forward.
I would not presume to speak for your journey. I can only say, and pray, that there is still a way even when we cannot yet see what it is. And perhaps one day, when the time is right, you will tell your own story too — to give warning to those just starting out, and hope to those who feel stuck.
P.S. Thank you as well for the fuller heart behind your comment, even if part of it was redacted. Both @Mistress Vixen and I appreciate any support, guidance, and correction when it helps keep the focus where it belongs. And, begrudgingly :-), thank you to MH too — the note was a fair reminder that it is easy to get busy with the things of God and forget the God of those things.
— KnowMe