Ten things I wish I’d known in my first year of marriage

This year Killy and I celebrate forty-three years of marriage. That’s over four decades of love, laughter, learning, forgiveness, friendship, prayer and occasionally trying to remember why we walked into a room.

When we got married I thought I knew quite a lot. I didn’t! Like most newlyweds, I arrived at marriage carrying two suitcases. One contained my belongings. The other contained my expectations. The first suitcase was reasonably small. The second was enormous.

If I could sit down with my younger self during that first year of marriage, here are ten things I would tell him.

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1. Marriage is not about finding the right person; it’s about becoming the right person

When I got married I spent far too much time noticing Killy’s imperfections. Then I discovered she was doing exactly the same thing with me.

Marriage has a remarkable way of introducing you to yourself. It reveals your strengths. It exposes your weaknesses. It shines a spotlight on your selfishness. The secret to a great marriage isn’t finding the perfect person. It’s learning to love an imperfect person perfectly well.

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2. Love is a verb before it is a feeling

In the first year of marriage I assumed love was something you felt. Now I know love is something you do.

Feelings are wonderful but they can be unpredictable. Some mornings you wake up full of energy, optimism and affection. Other mornings you wake up and the mirror quietly asks, ‘Rough night?’ Real love keeps showing up. Real love chooses kindness. Real love makes tea. Real love empties bins. Nobody writes songs about unloading dishwashers – but they probably should. The strongest words in marriage aren’t always, ‘I love you.’ Sometimes they’re, ‘Can I help you?’

3. Communication is more than talking

Early in our marriage, I thought communication meant speaking. I later discovered it also involves listening. Apparently, listening is quite important. Who knew? Many marriage problems aren’t caused by people not talking. They’re caused by people preparing their next speech while the other person is still talking. God gave us two ears and one mouth. That’s not an accident. That’s marriage counselling.

READ MORE: What is the “true purpose” of marriage for Christians?

4. Small things become big things

I thought grand gestures built strong marriages. They can help but I’ve learned that great marriages are usually built on small acts of love repeated consistently over many years. The encouraging word. The ‘thank you’. The unexpected hug. The thoughtful text. The cup of coffee.

Marriages rarely weaken because people stop loving each other. They weaken because people stop showing it. Great marriages are built one small kindness at a time.

5. You don’t win when you win an argument

In the first year of marriage I occasionally wanted to prove I was right. I now realise that in marriage, if one person loses, both people lose.

The objective is not victory. The objective is unity. I’ve learned there are moments when being kind is more important than being correct. And besides, after forty-three years I’ve discovered something else: Killy is right far more often than I am. And when she’s wrong, she’s usually right eventually anyway. Marriage is the only competition where winning can feel exactly like losing. I’ve discovered there are two sides to every disagreement: mine and Killy’s. And after forty-three years, I’ve learned it is often wise to start by assuming Killy’s is the better one.

6. Forgiveness is not an emergency tool; it’s daily maintenance

Every marriage has two imperfect people living under one roof. That guarantees occasional disappointment. We all say things we shouldn’t. Forget things we should remember. And remember things we should forget. Forgiveness keeps the gears turning. Without it, resentment builds up like dust in an attic. A happy marriage is simply the union of two good forgivers. The words ‘I’m sorry’ have saved more marriages than the words ‘I told you so’.

7. Laughter is one of God’s greatest marriage gifts

I’ve become increasingly convinced that humour is a spiritual gift. Not the ability to tell jokes. The ability to laugh together. Killy and I have laughed our way through countless situations. Sometimes because life was funny. Sometimes because the alternative was crying. Couples who laugh together tend to last together. A sense of humour won’t solve every problem, but it will make many problems smaller.

8. Marriage is a team sport

Nobody succeeds in marriage alone. You’re not competitors. You’re not opponents. You’re not two independent projects sharing a postcode. You’re a team. When one succeeds, both succeed. When one hurts, both hurt. When one celebrates, both celebrate. Marriage works best when ‘me’ becomes ‘we’.

9. Don’t neglect your friendship

Romance matters but friendship sustains a marriage over the long haul. After forty-three years, one of the greatest blessings is that Killy is not only my wife, she’s my best friend. We genuinely enjoy being together. We talk. We laugh. We dream. We pray. And occasionally we sit together in complete silence. Which, for a preacher, is a remarkable achievement.

The best marriages are not built on romance alone but on friendship deep enough to survive everything else.

10. Put God at the centre

If I could tell my younger self only one thing it would be: ‘Don’t merely invite Christ to your wedding. Invite him into your marriage.’ Killy and I have discovered that marriage works best when Christ is at the centre. Not merely as a guest. Not merely as an adviser. But as Lord. The apostle Paul wrote: ‘Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony’ (Colossians 3:14 NLT).

Love is the glue that holds a marriage together, but Christ is the source from which that love flows. Looking back over forty-three years, I can honestly say there have been seasons when Killy and I held onto Christ, and seasons when Christ held onto us.

Moments of celebration. Moments of challenge. Moments when we knew exactly what to do. And moments when we didn’t have a clue. Yet through it all, Christs faithfulness has been greater than our strength, his grace has been bigger than our failures, and his love has carried us further than we could ever have travelled alone.

People sometimes ask me the secret of a long marriage. There isn’t one secret. There are thousands of little acts of kindness, forgiveness, patience, laughter, sacrifice, prayer and grace. Repeated over and over again. Year after year. Marriage is rather like a garden. If you neglect it, weeds grow. If you compare it, envy grows. If you criticise it, bitterness grows. But if you nurture it, water it, pray over it and invest in it, something beautiful grows.

And when I look back over forty-three years with Killy, my overwhelming feeling isn’t pride. It’s gratitude. Grateful to God. Grateful for marriage. And especially grateful for Killy. Though I should point out that after forty-three years she’s still working on me!