If we’re being honest—and I know I’m not as honest as I should be, way more than I’d like to admit—I believe we could say the vast majority of problems in our marriages are on us. They’re on the men, the husbands. Me, you, (your husband if you’re a wife reading this.) It’s on us.
I think about how we love watching movies where real men shine—guys who overcome their weaknesses, rise up, and become champions. It’s no wonder those stories pull us in. Women watch because they’re longing for that in their husbands. Men watch because we want to be that. Can you imagine one of those heroic figures—say, some gritty warrior or noble leader—pouting because his wife didn’t validate him the way he wanted? Kicking something in a huff? Giving her the cold shoulder or tearing her down because she ticked him off? I can’t. It’s laughable even to picture it.
And then I look at my own marriage—arguments, fights, major misunderstandings—and afterwards, I can always see it so clearly, so easily. If I’d responded with maturity, with nobility, with chivalry—if I’d looked past what was coming out of Melissa’s mouth and heard what was crying out from her heart—how many problems would’ve been solved so much faster? How many wouldn’t have even started? I’ve blown it too many times, reacting like a kid when I should’ve been a man, and it stings to admit that.
We read Ephesians 5:33—wives, obey your husbands; husbands, love your wives—and we zero in on that first part. “Wives, obey your husbands” gets hammered so hard it’s almost cringe-worthy. But me? I feel like we—I—don’t lean enough into the rest of it: “Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church.” That’s sacrifice. That’s nobility. That’s chivalry. It’s holding her when she needs it, stepping into the role of a true man—a man who can look past her sharp words or her cold shoulder and see the heart of his wife, loving her for the beautiful thing God created her to be.
Men, we need to change. I’m talking to myself here too. We need to sweep the table clean—every preconceived notion, every lousy attitude we’ve carried about marriage—and once it’s bare, set one thing back on it: a true man is Christlike. Truly like Jesus Christ when he cares for his wife in every season, every mood.
We’re not perfect—God knows I’m so far from it I can’t believe it sometimes. But every time there’s a disconnected moment, a fight, a rough patch—whatever you call it—we men, me included, need to look at ourselves first. Not “What could she have done differently?” but “How could I have stopped this? How could I have held her, been there for her, absorbed her frustration or worry or hurt?”
We’ve got to do something. No matter where we’re at—married one year, ten, twenty, forty—we have to grab hold of our true role, our true dignity as husbands, and own it. That means how we treat our brides has to change, and it has to change profoundly.
I’m not saying it’s easy—I’ve failed at it more times than I can count—but I am saying it’s on us. The movies might show heroes rising up, but we don’t need a script. We need a heart that looks at her and says, “I’m stepping up. For you, for us, for Him.”
What are we waiting for?