Matt Chandler - Broken Covenants

In every culture on Earth, sociologists say there are these kinds of borders and structures called plausibility structures. What those structures represent, when we think sociologically about explaining humankind, is that this seems right to us; this seems normal. It’s a grid that you and I were given by the time in which we were born, by our parents, and by the culture we find ourselves in. A plausibility structure is essentially how you make sense of the world: these are the rules, this is how humanity flourishes, and this is how the world works and how it doesn’t work. You’re tracking with me—that’s a plausibility structure. Every culture on Earth has them, some tied to reality and some not. I mention all of this today because if I were given this text to preach in Africa, Asia, or India, I would feel less trepidation than I do today. However, because of our plausibility structure, this sounds crazy, tyrannical; you can feel it in the room even before I’ve said anything yet. We merely read it—that’s all we did. And yet you can feel it, why? Because it presses on how we understand the world to work. Now, I said at the beginning that doesn’t mean this is tied to reality; it just means that this is the age in which we live, where everything we just read seems a little crazy—sure, or no. What I want to do is show you the beauty of this passage, but I know I’ll be touching on sensitive issues that may be painful, so just hang in there with me. I promise you this is good news, not bad news.

On July 31, 1999, I stood in front of all my family, most of my friends, mentors, and Lauren, and I made some impossible promises. Like I said, I said this out loud. I told Lauren on my wedding day, my most romantic day of my life, that if this goes badly and I think, «Oh my God, is this the rest of my life?» I’m not going anywhere. For the next seven years, both of us had to lean into that public promise before God and man. I did think, «Oh my God, what have I done?» on my honeymoon; I thought it continually for the following seven years. I mention seven years because I know some of you have been in this for a lot longer. I’m not saying we fixed everything in seven years—that’s not what I’m implying. I’m trying to convey that for those seven years, there was bad communication, no money, bad intimacy, and it was cold at home. I can’t soften it—it was just bad. There wasn’t an area of our marriage that I could point to and say, «Yeah, that part was good.» On top of that, I was thriving at work; everyone loved me, everything else worked—except my relationship with this woman. I even said this during the nine o’clock service, and if you’re nervous, she was sitting right here. But listen—this wasn’t a surprise to her; she wasn’t lying in bed next to me thinking all her dreams had come true. She felt stuck; we felt trapped. It felt like a cycle we couldn’t escape from, and we had no idea of its origin in our lives. It was awful.

Then, I stood in front of everyone and thought, «Why, first of all, are you even talking about this on our wedding day? Why should we say this could go badly?» Shouldn’t this all be just butterflies and rainbows? Shouldn’t this whole thing be about the rest of our romantic, blissful lives? But no, we acknowledged, «Hey, this could go bad. And when it does, and if it does, I’m here.» We both stood in front of everyone and said, «If you’re ever in a horrific accident, and the beauty that drew me to you vanishes—your face gets all mangled—if I have to wipe you and take care of you and there’s no more intimacy ever, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you, remain faithful, and I will bank on future glory.» We committed to better or worse, sickness and health, in front of everyone. God tested both those promises. For Lauren, it was learning that I had a brain tumor and would probably be dead in two or three years. I struggled for nearly a year with a flat affect, not being my normal playful self, and she leaned into the covenant. For seven years, we just couldn’t find our way through—it was complicated by all sorts of family baggage. I was so difficult; I thought Lauren would fulfill needs in me that were unfair to expect of her. She couldn’t heal the wounds in my soul, but I expected her to, and she couldn’t validate me enough…