Grace Day #7: The Cord of Three Strands
“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” — Ecclesiastes 4:12 (NIV)
The Journey
The silence in our kitchen wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy. It was the kind of silence that had mass and weight, pressing down on my chest. My husband, David, was eating his spaghetti across the table from me. The only sounds were the scrape of the fork against the ceramic and the hum of the refrigerator.
We hadn’t had a fight. There was no affair. There was no gambling addiction. To the outside world, we were the model Christian couple. We served in the nursery. We hosted the summer BBQ. But inside the walls of our home, we were roommates who occasionally shared a bed.
I looked at him and felt… nothing. No spark. No irritation. Just a vast, arctic indifference. I had convinced myself that “falling out of love” was a valid medical diagnosis, like catching the flu. You couldn’t help it. It just happened.
I had already looked up divorce lawyers on my browser at work. I told myself God wanted me to be happy, and I certainly wasn’t happy here.
That Sunday, I sat down with Clara, an older woman in our church who had mentored me since college. I intended to tell her I was leaving David. I expected sympathy. I expected her to hand me a tissue and tell me I deserved a man who “understood me.”
I poured it all out over herbal tea. “The fire is gone, Clara,” I said, wiping a tear. “I just don’t love him anymore. We’re two different people now.”
Clara didn’t reach for the tissues. She took a sip of her tea and looked at me over the rim of the mug. “So, because the fire is low, you’re going to burn down the house?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You talk about love like it’s a weather pattern, Sarah. Like it’s something that happens to you,” Clara said firmly. “But the covenant you made wasn’t based on the weather. It was a promise to tend the garden even when it doesn’t rain.”
She reached across the table and took my hand. “You have let the ‘third strand’ unravel. You and David are trying to hold this together with your own grit, and you’re exhausted. You need to invite Jesus back into the space between you.”
“I pray for him,” I defended.
“I didn’t say pray for him,” Clara corrected. “I said pray with him. And serve him. Not because he deserves it, but because that’s what love looks like when it’s working.”
She gave me a challenge. For thirty days, I was not allowed to criticize David. And every day, I had to do one specific act of kindness that he wouldn’t expect.
I went home angry. I didn’t want to serve him; I wanted him to serve me. But out of respect for Clara, I tried.
Day 1, I brewed his coffee before he woke up. He didn’t notice. Day 4, I ironed his work shirts. He looked confused but said nothing. Day 10, the ice began to crack.
I came home to find David in the kitchen. He had done the dishes—my usual chore. He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in months. “You’ve been… different lately,” he said cautiously. “Nicer.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “I’ve been trying, David. I missed us.”
That night, for the first time in three years, I asked the scariest question a wife can ask. “Can we pray together? Just for a minute?”
David hesitated. It was awkward. We fumbled through it, sitting on the edge of the bed. But as David began to speak to God, asking for help, asking for wisdom, I saw the man I had married. I saw his burden. And I realized that while I was busy waiting to “feel” love, the act of doing love had quietly replanted the seeds in my heart.
It wasn’t magic. We still had to go to counseling. We still had to learn how to communicate. But the indifference was gone. We weren’t just two people defending ourselves against the world anymore. We were a cord of three strands—David, me, and the God who refused to let us go.
I learned that the grass isn’t greener on the other side. The grass is greener where you water it.
Heart of the Matter
In our modern world, we are taught that feelings should dictate our commitments. If we feel happy, we stay; if we feel bored or unfulfilled, we leave. But the biblical definition of love is not an emotion; it is an act of the will. It is a decision to seek the good of another, even when you get nothing in return.
Sarah fell into the trap of thinking the marriage was dead because the “spark” was gone. But as her mentor pointed out, fires die when they aren’t tended. By waiting for the feeling to return before she acted, she was starving the relationship.
When she inverted the process—acting in love first—the feelings eventually followed. The “Third Strand” in a marriage is the Holy Spirit. When two people are too tired to love each other, they can draw on His infinite love to refill their own cups. He is the binder that keeps the cord from snapping under pressure.
Faith in Action
We often vocalize our complaints but silence our gratitude.
Today, identify one thing your spouse (or a close family member if you are single) does that makes your life easier, no matter how small. Maybe they take out the trash, pay the bills, or make the coffee.
Walk up to them, look them in the eye, and say: “I noticed that you [action]. Thank you for doing that. I appreciate you.”
Then, stop. Don’t add a “but.” Just let the blessing land.
Prayer for the Day
Lord, I confess that I often love only when it is convenient or reciprocated. I have let my relationships drift because of my own selfishness. Remind me that love is a covenant, not just a feeling. Braid Your Spirit into my relationships. When I am weak, be the strength that holds us together. Teach me to water the garden You have given me. Amen.
Grace Note
“Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice.” — Michael Martin