From Broken Faith to a Firm Foundation

There was a time in my life when I believed my marriage was beyond saving.

The 45-minute drive to counseling felt longer than the eleven years we had already spent together. Silence filled the car. I had moved to the sofa. I couldn’t bear to be near my husband. My heart felt stone cold. His loyalty irritated me. His hope exhausted me.

Why doesn’t he just give up? I wondered.

I was done. Done with marriage. Done with pretending. Done with trying to be a mother when I felt hollow inside.

And yet, there we were—sitting on a tiny red loveseat in a counselor’s office—because my husband refused to quit.

When You Feel Like the Problem

I was certain I was the one who had broken everything.

I felt unstable. One day I was fine; the next I couldn’t get out of bed. I had studied mental health. I had family history. I had labels ready.

“I think I’m bipolar,” I told the counselor.

She looked at me and said something I did not expect:

“You don’t need medication. You need Jesus.”

I was offended. Confused. Ready to walk out.

But then she said something that pierced deeper:

“You are under a generational curse—and the only way to break it is through the blood of Jesus.”

Weeks before, I had heard those exact words whispered in the middle of the night: generational curse.

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t even know if I believed it. But when she said, “The enemy is after your children,” something ignited in me.

A mama bear rose up.

For months, I had been planning my escape. I was going to move into our camper. Leave my husband. Leave the chaos. I believed my children would be better off without me.

But when I looked at their faces that morning under the tree in our front yard, something shifted.

I didn’t want to flee.

I wanted to fight.

When Darkness Feels Louder Than Hope

But fighting wasn’t easy.

The darkness was heavy. I would drop my children off at school and cry the entire drive home. I would hide under the covers just to make it through the day.

I felt toxic. Worthless. Beyond repair.

At one point, the only thing that kept me alive was fear—fear of disappointing God even more than I already believed I had.

I wanted the dream I once had as a little girl—marriage, children, stability, love.

But I didn’t think I deserved it anymore.

Then one word cut through the chaos:

Surrender.

Not fight harder.

Not fix yourself.

Not prove your worth.

Surrender.

The White Flag in My Front Yard

One afternoon, alone at home, I grabbed a white pillowcase from the hall closet, ran outside, and waved it in the air like a surrender flag.

“God, if this is You, I relinquish control. But if I stay, You have to change me. Replace my eyes. Replace my ears. Replace my skin. Replace my heart.”

I collapsed in the yard.

And in the quiet that followed, I sensed something faint.

Light.

Hope.

Not a dramatic miracle.

But a shift.

My Husband’s Surrender

What I didn’t know at the time was that my husband was having his own moment of surrender.

He had been confronted about passivity. About spiritual leadership. About the responsibility of being the covering over his wife and children.

He had never prayed for me.

Not really.

He had prayed at church. Over meals. But not for me.

When asked if he prayed for his wife, he realized he didn’t even know how.

He began learning.

He began repenting.

He began leading—not with control, but with humility.

He started building his foundation with God first.

And everything changed from there.

Covenant, Not Contract

One of the most pivotal lessons we learned was this:

Marriage is a covenant, not a contract.

Contracts protect rights.

Covenants bind hearts.

Contracts are built on mistrust.

Covenants are built on promise.

For our marriage to survive, I had to stop hiding. I had to tell the truth about my past. I had to step into the light.

For our marriage to thrive, my husband had to love me sacrificially.

📖 Ephesians 5:25–26 reminds husbands:

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her…”

That kind of love isn’t based on worthiness.

It’s based on covenant.

My husband chose sacrificial love. He chose to prioritize God. He chose to lead our home toward Christ.

And in his realignment, I found safety.

In his covering, I found healing.

In his obedience, I found freedom.

From Curse to Blessing

That broken season was nearly twenty years ago.

On December 16, we celebrated 30 years of marriage. Even more beautiful—our son was married on December 16, 2023. And my husband’s parents celebrated 58 years of marriage on that same date.

What once felt like a generational curse became a generational blessing.

Jesus didn’t just patch our marriage.

He rebuilt the foundation.

Two Chapters a Day Keeps Satan Away

One of the most practical ways we rebuilt was simple:

We read the Bible together.

We called it:

“Two Chapters a Day Keeps Satan Away.”

We read the Bible cover to cover in about two and a half years. And we never stopped.

Now, as empty nesters, we still read together daily. In November 2024, we launched the podcast Bedroom and Bible, where we read Scripture and have honest conversations about building strong foundations in marriage, family, and identity.

Because foundations matter.

And if the enemy attacks foundations, we rebuild them in Christ.

If You’re on the Edge

If you are reading this and sitting in your own version of that 45-minute drive…

If you are under the covers, wondering if anyone would be better off without you…

If your marriage feels too fractured to fix…

Hear me clearly:

Surrender is not defeat.

It is the doorway to rebuilding.

Jesus saved our marriage.

But we both had to lay down our pride, our fear, our control, and our silence.

We both had to say yes.

I challenge you today:
Love your spouse with sacrificial love.
Build your foundation on God’s Word.
Pray for each other.
Fight for covenant.

From broken faith to firm foundation—restoration is possible.