The 60-year Mirror: Covenant Love and the First Commandment

When Joni and I stood before God and our community six decades ago to make our wedding vows, we brought all the eager confidence of youth. We could not have foreseen the road ahead: the repeated packing of boxes and cross-country moves, the joyful chaos of raising our two children, or the quiet wonder of welcoming two grandsons into our lives. Nor could we have anticipated the sudden, tearing grief that fractured our world when our beloved son died at the age of 52.

In the wake of that terrible loss—and through all the sharp corners of life together—it was not sentimental feeling that held us fast. It was an abiding, covenantal love: a quiet, stubborn determination to remain side-by-side when the sky fell-in.

Yet as Joni and I recently marked our diamond anniversary, a startling, uncomfortable conviction settled over me. As I reflected on the sixty years of fidelity, sacrifice, and deep devotion I have offered to my wife, the Holy Spirit turned the mirror around.

Jesus answered the Pharisees with absolute clarity: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment” (Matt. 22:37–38). When I look honestly at my love for God alongside my love for Joni, I am confronted by a sobering disparity. If I love God with all my heart, why does my devotion to Him so often feel routine, measured, and abstract, while my love for my wife is immediate, attentive, and fiercely protective?

Paul’s great portrait in 1 Corinthians 13 is so often read as wedding poetry, but Lewis Smedes aptly called it a demanding, quiet, and durable way of life. When the apostle writes that love “always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (1 Cor. 13:7), he provides the measure not merely of human companionship, but of our covenant relationship with God.

Five Questions for Personal Examination

To probe the health of my love for God, I formulated five diagnostic questions drawn from the First Commandment and Paul’s anatomy of love. In answering them honestly, I discovered that even after a lifetime in the church, I have vast room for growth.

1. Delight: Where does my mind wander when the room goes quiet? For sixty years, Joni’s presence has brought me instinctive comfort and joy. I do not have to force myself to enjoy her company or anticipate her arrival. Yet the Psalmist prayed, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Ps. 37:4). When my hands and mind are free, do I naturally turn toward God with warm anticipation, or does communion with Him feel like a spiritual obligation I check off each morning?
2. Trust: Do I trust God’s sovereign goodness when life breaks open? Paul reminds us that love “always trusts” (1 Cor. 13:7). When our son died, Joni and I leaned into each other with total mutual reliance. We knew neither of us would run away from the pain. Yet in those long, barren seasons of sorrow, how quickly did I allow quiet doubts to whisper against God’s character? Trusting God does not mean having answers to every tear, but it does mean refusing to reduce Him to our limited human comprehension or accuse His sovereign wisdom of negligence.
3. Attention: Am I giving God the full weight of my presence or merely the leftovers of my day? Love is marked by attentive listening. If Joni is speaking of something that weighs heavily on her heart, it would be an insult for me to look over her shoulder at a screen. Love “does not seek its own way” (1 Cor. 13:5). Yet how often do my private prayers consist of hurried, distracted shopping lists, offered while my mind is already calculating the day’s tasks? To love God with all our mind demands deep, reverent attention.
4. Obedience: Do I surrender my autonomy, or do I negotiate terms? “If you love me, keep my commands” (John 14:15). In marriage, genuine love means laying down personal rights for the good of the other – rearranging plans, moving to new cities, adapting willingly through seasons of failing health and changing stamina. But with God, I often find myself bargaining. I want His peace, His forgiveness, and His promises, yet I subtly resist His claim over my private stubbornness, my pride, and my comforts.
5. Perseverance: Has my spiritual affection grown complacent with age? Love “always perseveres” – it possesses the fortitude to stand firm under immense weight without retreating. Our marriage was tempered in the fires of sorrow and transitions. But has my private walk with Christ maintained that same vibrant tenacity, or has familiarity dulled my awe? The church at Ephesus did not lose its orthodoxy; it abandoned its first love (Rev. 2:4). I must confess that it is easy to substitute theological properness for a burning, childlike love for the Savior.

An Action Plan for Renewal

Confession without concrete action is merely sentimental regret. Because love in Scripture is always framed as an active verb rather than a passive emotion, repenting of a lukewarm heart requires intentional discipline.

• A Structured Personal Retreat: I am setting aside an unhurried, two-day personal retreat away from daily routines and digital interruptions. This will not be a working retreat to study theology or outline teaching materials. Its sole purpose will be silent communion:
  • Day 1: Engaging in extended prayers of thanksgiving and unburdened confession, meditating on Deuteronomy 6:4–9 and Psalm 103, and journaling through the five diagnostic questions above.
  • Day 2: Extended silence to simply rest in God’s presence, accompanied by unhurried walks and singing the Psalms of praise.
• A Relationship of Unvarnished Accountability: Self-examination in isolation carries a major blind spot: the deceitfulness of one's own heart. I am taking the deliberate step to invite a trusted brother in Christ into an intentional, ongoing accountability relationship. I am asking him to meet with me regularly not for casual conversation, but to ask me the unvarnished, hard questions: Where is your heart growing cold toward God? Are you giving Him your first thoughts or your residual energy? Where are you silently resisting His lordship? True spiritual affection requires the courage to submit to iron sharpening iron (Prov. 27:17).
• Daily Sabbath Rhythms of Attentive Stillness: Beginning immediately, I will guard a 20-minute window each morning for silent, contemplative prayer. Before opening a book or offering petitions, I will practice the discipline of stillness (Ps. 46:10), training my mind to center wholly on Christ's beauty and finished work on the cross.
• A "Ledger of Providence": Paul warns that self-centered love keeps a record of wrongs (1 Cor. 13:5). In contrast, covenant love keeps a grateful record of grace. I am dedicating a journal solely to recording God’s daily mercies, tangible providences, and answered prayers – especially remembering how His comfort sustained our family during our deepest bereavement.

Sixty years of marriage have taught me that enduring human love is a profound, undeserved gift. But it is also a shadow pointing to a greater substance. Joni has been God’s gracious provision for my earthly journey, but only the God of covenant love can satisfy the soul forever. At this season of life, my prayer is simple: that the Lord would renew my affection, so that when I finally stand before Him face to face (1 Cor. 13:12), He will find in me not merely a faithful husband, but a disciple who tried to love Him with all his heart, soul, and mind.