Based on the title, you may think I am about to write about how women can mightily influence their husbands with respectful words and faithful actions. You have read that same admonishment in the bible, and know that women are called to that sort of peaceful influence.
If that’s what you expected, you’d be wrong. That would be “the reverse OF the nuclear option”.
This post is about today’s Family Life email, which tells of an incident in the marriage of Bill and Vonette Bright, those Bright’s, the Campus Crusade for Christ Brights. The story says that Dennis Rainy asked them, in an interview, if they had ever experience a pivotal point in their marriage, one that could have changed everything for the worse. Not unexpectedly it was Bill who copped to the deed doing:
Bill’s eyes filled with tears, his head dropped a bit, and he began to nod. There was shame and sorrow in his voice as he began to tell about a disagreement that had momentarily threatened their marriage.
Bill went on to explain the horror he wrought on his wife and family
It began when Bill had begun to make some key ministry decisions without consulting Vonette, even though the choices he was making directly affected her. One day as they argued about one of these issues, Bill declared, “The decision has been made, and it’s too late to change our plans now.”
I want to swerve here for a second and make an unrelated point. Has anyone ever noticed that the things these main stream evangelical leaders point to as problems are always sugar coated things? And, after you read the rest of the story, ask yourself if it seems a bit done up for drama? Would Bill actually instantly recall THIS event and immediately begin to cry? Are stories like this helpful, in the sense that they relate to the everyday struggles of regular Christians? Are things like this too obviously pat?
Bill goes on:
Suddenly, all the resentment building inside Vonette erupted. “Okay, Bill Bright! I’ll just leave! I’m not going to live where I have nothing to say about what goes on.” She whisked the children into the car, got in the driver’s seat, and then slumped. Where would she go?
At this point, their young son Zac made a statement that cut to the core: “Mom, this shows me the kind of person you really are.” As her son’s words stung her, Bill burst through the front door and deliberately got in front of her car. He pleaded, “Don’t go, Vonette.”
He went on to apologize, and she did too. Then Bill backed up his words of apology by changing the decision they had argued about. Later, Vonette wrote, “I stayed because he took the first step toward reconciliation and working out our problems. It took a real man of God to admit he was wrong, and this gave me the courage to confess my poor attitude.”
I’m going to let this speak for itself. I need add nothing.