God Told Me to Notice... Marriage Was Never Meant to Be Done Without God

 

God Told Me to Notice...

Marriage Was Never Meant to Be Done Without God

One of the things I have come to love about studying Scripture is how familiar passages can suddenly look different. You can read the same verses for years, understand what they say, and then one day, while studying them again, something catches your attention. Not necessarily something new. It was there all along.

You just hadn't noticed it that way before.

That happened to me before getting married.

"Thank God I'm a woman!"

During premarital counselling classes at church, we often discuss the biblical roles and responsibilities of husbands and wives with counselees. One of the key passages is Ephesians 5, where wives are instructed to submit to their husbands as unto the Lord, while husbands are commanded to love their wives as Christ loved the Church.

The first time I studied those verses before getting married, I remember thanking God that I was a woman. In my mind, my assignment seemed easier. Submission, although certainly not always easy, appeared far less demanding than what God had asked of husbands.

Because think about it. A husband is told to love his wife as Christ loved the Church. That is no joke. Christ remains faithful even when we are unfaithful. He loves us despite our flaws, failures, weaknesses and inconsistencies. His love is sacrificial, patient, forgiving and unwavering. He loved us so completely that He laid down His life for us. And that is the standard given to husbands.

So, naturally, I thought: "Lord, thank You for making me a woman!" I genuinely thought I had received the easier assignment.

But during one of our premarital counselling sessions last year, as we were discussing these roles again, God told me to notice something. And suddenly, I began to see those verses differently.

What if the roles weren't designed to be easy?

I realized that the responsibilities God gives husbands and wives in marriage are not necessarily things that will always come naturally to us. And perhaps that is the point. God did not simply assign us roles according to what would be easiest for our personalities or natural tendencies. He gave us responsibilities that would require His grace.

The more I thought about it, the more fascinated I became.

Take the husband's responsibility to love his wife as Christ loves the Church. Many women have an incredible capacity to nurture, forgive, and continue loving even after experiencing deep hurt. We see women who choose to rebuild marriages after betrayal, who stand by their husbands through failure, and who extend grace in circumstances that are incredibly painful. This doesn’t mean unconditional love is easy for women—it isn't—but for many, the posture of nurturing and extending grace can feel more instinctive.

For many men, however, loving with Christ-like, sacrificial consistency—particularly through disappointment, disrespect, or betrayal—requires a level of grace that runs against the grain of their natural instincts. Loving as Christ loves is not simply about feeling affection. It is a repeated choice of selflessness. It is laying down your life. It is choosing to love even when it costs you something. That requires grace.

Then there is the wife's responsibility: submission.

This is where I began thinking about what Scripture says about the Fall. In Genesis 3:16, after Adam and Eve sinned, God told the woman: "Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you."

There are different interpretations of exactly what that phrase means. Some scholars see it as a longing for intimacy. Others—and this is the interpretation that struck me—understand it as describing a struggle for control within the marriage relationship (…And you will desire to control your husband Gen 3:16b NLT). It is the same Hebrew word (teshuqah) used in Genesis 4:7, where sin "desires" to have Cain. It implies an ongoing tension, a pull toward mastery and dominance.

When I thought about that, I found it deeply revealing. Many women are strong-minded, independent thinkers. We have opinions. We have ideas. We have plans. And if we are being completely honest, sometimes we don't just want to have an opinion—we want our opinion to win. 😂 We can have a natural desire to take charge, influence the outcome, and sometimes lead rather than submit.

So when Scripture calls the wife to submit to her husband as unto the Lord, I began to see that command differently. God wasn't asking women to do something because they were weak. He was asking them to surrender something that, especially after the Fall, can become a profound struggle.

Biblical submission is not weakness. It is not inferiority. It is not the surrender of your intelligence, voice, or dignity. It is an act of humility and trust in God. It is saying: "Lord, I trust Your design even when my natural inclination is to take control." And that requires grace too.

Men are not exempt from this dynamic. Every human being has an instinct to protect their interests, defend their position, and resist surrendering control. So while the particular struggle may look different from person to person, neither husband nor wife gets to rely entirely on their natural ability. The husband is called to love beyond his natural instincts; the wife is called to surrender beyond her natural instincts. Both are stretched.

And that was when the bigger picture began to make sense to me. God wasn't simply giving us roles. He was giving us roles that would keep us dependent on Him.

Then I remembered the triangle.

During premarital counselling, we were also taught a simple illustration of marriage: a triangle. God is at the top. The husband and wife are at opposite ends of the base. The lesson was that the closer each person moves towards God individually, the closer they ultimately become to one another.

I understood that. I have always believed that marriage was never meant to be done without God. But as I sat there thinking about Ephesians 5, God told me to notice something else about that triangle.

God is not only at the top because marriage needs Him. The roles He has given us are themselves designed to drive us towards Him.

Think about it. The husband is told: Love your wife as Christ loves the Church. The wife is told: Submit to your husband as unto the Lord. Neither command can be lived out consistently and perfectly through human strength alone. The husband needs grace. The wife needs grace.

Suddenly, the triangle made even more sense to me. When a husband realizes, "I cannot love my wife the way Christ loves the Church in my own strength," he has a reason to move closer to God. When a wife realizes, "I cannot consistently submit with the right heart in my own strength," she too has a reason to move closer to God. And as they both move towards God... they move towards each other.

Maybe that was the point all along.

The more I thought about it, the more beautiful God's wisdom became. He gave us responsibilities that would continually remind us: "You need Me." The husband cannot truly love like Christ without God's grace. The wife cannot truly submit in a Christ-honouring way without God's grace. Neither spouse gets to say, "I've got this." Both are continually invited back to God.

Marriage is not a place where we get to showcase how capable we are. It is one of the places where God reveals how much we need Him.

The goal is not simply to become better spouses.

Sometimes we think the goal of marriage is simply to learn how to communicate better, manage conflict, raise children well, build a home, and make each other happy. Those things matter. But there is something deeper happening.

Marriage exposes our selfishness. It exposes our pride. It exposes our impatience. It exposes our desire to be right. It exposes the places where we struggle to surrender. And all of that can become an invitation to move closer to God. Because the closer we move towards Him, the more He changes us. The more He changes us, the better we are able to love, forgive, submit, serve, sacrifice, and extend grace. And as both husband and wife move towards Him, they find themselves moving closer to each other.

So, when I think about that triangle now, I don't just see God at the centre of a marriage. I see something more. I see two imperfect people who have each been given responsibilities that are bigger than their natural strength. And I see a loving God who has positioned Himself at the top, continually inviting both of them: "Come closer to Me."

I think of this now when I look at couples who have been married for decades. They didn't arrive at that place of unity because they were naturally good at marriage. They arrived there because, year after year, they kept looking upward. They kept admitting they couldn't do it alone. They kept reaching for grace.

And perhaps that is the most beautiful thing about marriage—not two people who have it all figured out, but two people who keep realizing they need the One who does. Because the closer we both get to Him, the closer we ultimately become to each other.

That is what God told me to notice.

Marriage roles were never meant to be easy. They were designed to draw us closer to God—and, in doing so, closer to each other.

 

 

God Told Me to Notice...

One of my absolute favourite books in the Bible is Genesis. I can read it over and over again and never get tired of it. In fact, the more I read it, the more I realise how much I missed the previous time. It amazes me how God can use the same passage to reveal different truths in different seasons of my life.

One year during Bible Study Fellowship (BSF)—which I absolutely love—we were studying Genesis. I remember quietly thinking to myself,

"Genesis? What exactly are we going to learn that we don't already know?"

There it was again.

Spiritual arrogance. 😄

We hadn't gone very far before God humbled me.

Most of us know the story.

God created Adam, placed him in the Garden of Eden, and gave him one clear instruction:

"You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil..." (Genesis 2:16–17)

Later, God created Eve, and then came the moment that changed human history—the encounter between Eve and the serpent.

Before I get to what completely changed my understanding of this passage, let me quickly share three lessons that stood out to me.

Lesson One: Know God's Word Beyond the Words

The serpent didn't begin with a lie.

He began with a question.

"Did God really say...?"

That is still one of his greatest strategies today.

We must know God's Word—not just memorize verses, but understand them.

Think about mathematics.

You may know that 6 × 8 equals 48, but if someone gives you a word problem and you don't understand how multiplication works, you'll struggle.

The same is true spiritually.

When Satan tempted Jesus in the wilderness, he quoted Scripture. Jesus wasn't fooled because He understood not only what God's Word said but how it should be rightly applied.

The devil knows Scripture.

The question is...

Do we?

Lesson Two: Don't Entertain Conversations God Has Already Settled

The serpent asked,

"Did God really say?"

The answer was simple.

Yes.

That should have been the end of the conversation.

Not every question deserves a debate.

Sometimes wisdom simply says,

"God has spoken."

Lesson Three: Be Careful What You Keep Looking At

Genesis tells us that Eve looked at the fruit.

She kept looking.

Until it became desirable.

Appealing.

Pleasing.

Temptation often grows because we spend too much time looking at what we should have walked away from.

Now...

Here is the part I've been dying to get to.

For years, if anyone had asked me where Adam was while the serpent was speaking to Eve, I would probably have said somewhere else in the garden.

Maybe under a tree.

Maybe tending the garden.

Maybe nowhere near the conversation.

If you grew up with My Book of Bible Stories like I did, that's probably the picture in your mind too.

Well...

We were wrong.

Then God told me to notice something I had somehow read over for years.

Genesis 3:6 says,

"She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate."

Gbam!

Adam wasn't somewhere else.

He wasn't far away.

He was right there.

Standing beside his wife.

Listening to the conversation.

Watching the deception unfold.

And saying...

Nothing.

I must have read that verse dozens of times before it finally hit me.

So the question was no longer,

"Where was Adam?"

The real question became,

"Why didn't Adam do anything?"

That one observation completely changed how I read Genesis 3.

In many premarital counselling classes, men are taught that they are to be the Spiritual Leaders (Priests), Protectors, and Providers of their homes.

Looking at Genesis 3, Adam appears to have failed in that responsibility.

He had received God's instruction directly.

He knew exactly what God had said.

Yet while the serpent questioned God's Word and deceived his wife, Adam remained silent.

But then God told me to notice something else.

When God came into the garden after they had sinned, whom did He call first?

Adam.

Not because Eve hadn't sinned.

She had.

But because the original instruction had been entrusted to Adam.

Leadership carries responsibility.

Then God asked Adam,

"Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?"

Adam answered,

"The woman You gave to be with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate."

I paused again.

Adam didn't simply blame Eve.

He indirectly blamed God.

"The woman You gave me..."

Then God turned to Eve.

Her response?

"The serpent deceived me."

She blamed someone else too.

Interestingly, God never questioned the serpent.

He simply pronounced judgment.

Earlier this year, while reading Genesis with my children, I asked my husband,

"What do you think would have happened if Adam had simply said, 'Lord, I sinned. I disobeyed You. I'm sorry'?"

Of course, Scripture doesn't tell us.

But I couldn't help wondering.

I also couldn't help wondering whether Adam's response became the very first example of blame-shifting within a family.

Leaders set the tone.

If a father constantly shouts when he's angry, his children often learn that shouting is how problems are solved.

If he owns his mistakes, apologizes sincerely, and responds with humility, those around him learn that too.

Leadership teaches far more by example than by instruction.

That lesson has stayed with me.

Today, whenever my five-year-old son does something wrong and immediately points at someone else, I gently stop him.

I tell him,

"Baba, be accountable."

"If you did it, simply say, 'I did it. I am sorry.'"

Because accountability is not merely admitting mistakes.

It is choosing truth over excuses.

One final observation.

Adam was not the first person to eat the fruit.

But he was the first person God called.

That has never left me.

Leadership is not simply about authority.

It is about responsibility.

Whether we are husbands, wives, parents, pastors, employers, employees, or leaders in any capacity, God has entrusted people, opportunities, and responsibilities into our hands.

One day, like the servants in the Parable of the Talents, each of us will give an account for what we did with what He entrusted to us.

My prayer is that when God weighs our stewardship, we will not be found wanting.

And if you're still on my husband's team and insist Adam wasn't standing there...

Please go back and read Genesis 3:6 one more time. 😄 And pick your team mate

 

Serah. Shuru:A Story of Waiting, Pride, and the Gift That Came When I Stopped Trying

 

A friend's mum recently shared a concern with me. She was worried that her daughter was not speaking in tongues and longed for so much more for her spiritually. She asked if we could pray together about it.

As she poured out her heart, I smiled and listened attentively. I assured her not to worry and told her that I believed it would happen in God's own time because her daughter truly loved Him.

As I spoke those words, I realised that my confidence came not from theological certainty, but from my own journey. This is simply my story—one testimony among many. I share it not to prescribe a single path, but to encourage anyone who may be waiting on God or feeling discouraged. I recognise that faithful Christians from different traditions hold different views on speaking in tongues, and I honour that. But my story is what I know.

So, to encourage her, I decided to share my own journey.

It All Began at University

As a child, I knew about the Holy Spirit, but not in the way I know and relate with Him today.

During one of my mid-semester breaks from university, I started hearing stories about my childhood friend, Reuben. People said he had begun praying for others to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and speak in tongues. There was a strong anointing upon him, and remarkable things were happening.

Back then, this was not a common topic in many ECWA (Evangelical Church of West Africa) settings. However, the church I attended (ECWA Rockhaven Chapel) was fairly open and encouraged young people to grow and express themselves.

One Sunday, Reuben was given a few minutes to preach about the gift of the Holy Spirit. Afterwards, he invited anyone who desired prayer to stand or raise their hands.

I remained firmly seated.

In my mind, I thought, "This is my guy. If he can pray, I can pray for myself; no need to stand up joor."

Looking back now, I recognise that attitude for what it truly was—spiritual pride. I had done what Nigerians call "see finish"—disrespect that comes through over-familiarity. I despised his age and believed I could do for myself what God wanted to give me through him.

To make matters worse, some students from a fellowship at school had made the whole issue rather unappealing to me. They strongly implied that if you did not speak in tongues, you were either not a true Christian or your Christianity was incomplete.

That bothered me deeply.

At the time, I could not speak in tongues, but I knew beyond doubt that I loved God and belonged to Him.

Whenever those conversations came up, I would challenge them with Scripture. Often, they would quote what their pastor had said, and I would respond by asking, "But what does the Bible say?"

I reminded them that the fruit of the Spirit is evidence of both God's work and His presence in a believer's life.

A Conversation That Changed My Perspective

When I returned home for our mid-semester break, my mom’s friend, 'Brother Leo,' came to visit. He worked with CAPRO (a missions organisation) and was someone I deeply respected as he was well-rounded in scripture.

I wasted no time asking him about the issue.

He asked me whether I had carefully studied Corinthians and the various expressions of the Holy Spirit.

Together, we opened the Scriptures, and from there, I learnt the difference between speaking in tongues, the gift of tongues, and the fruit of the Spirit.

Following our study, he asked me, "If someone has the gift of teaching but does not prophesy, does that mean they don't have the Holy Spirit?"

"Of course not," I replied.

His point became very clear.

The Holy Spirit distributes different gifts differently. Not everyone will manifest every gift, but every believer can display evidence of His work.

For the first time in my life, I recognised that encouragement—a gift that came naturally to me—could itself be a gift of the Spirit.

Years of Waiting

Years passed.

I was still "tongueless."

Initially, it didn't bother me much. But then I would attend services where ministers would invite those who could not speak in tongues to come forward for prayer. I have never been good at pretending, especially in matters concerning God. So if it wasn't coming, it simply wasn't coming.

Jeje.

One particular service remains unforgettable.

The minister prayed for everyone and then began saying, "Speak! Speak!"

Around me, people started praying in tongues.

Meanwhile...

Serah.

Shuru (No sound).

The microphone was moving from person to person.

As it drew closer, I whispered one of the most sincere prayers of my life:

"Father, na beg I dey beg. Please don't let Your child suffer shame o! Help me say something. The mic is coming close o!"

My people...

The microphone passed.

Still...

Serah.

Shuru.

Eventually, the preacher ended with a general prayer, and we all returned to our seats.

After the service, I went to meet him privately and asked what was wrong with me.

He laughed kindly and told me not to worry.

"The gift has already been deposited," he said. "You're simply overthinking it. You're trying to analyse everything instead of just opening your mouth in faith."

That was the end of our conversation, but the years continued to pass. I genuinely desired the gift. I had read Scripture, asked God for it, and waited. I celebrated when close friends received it suddenly—one after a frightening experience, another during a quiet prayer meeting—but my own experience remained unchanged.

By the time I graduated from university, I still could not speak in tongues. It had been about three years since I had rejected Reuben's prayers.

The Conviction I Could Not Ignore

One day, while reflecting on everything, my mind went back to that church service years earlier when I had silently despised the grace God was using through my friend Reuben.

I became convinced that God was dealing with the pride in my own heart. I had done "see finish" on a vessel God wanted to use. I had rejected the very channel He had sent to help me—trying to control how and through whom He would bless me.

So I repented and asked for forgiveness. But looking back now, I realise the waiting wasn't punishment. It was preparation. God wasn't withholding to shame me; He was purifying my heart so that when the gift came, I wouldn't use it to measure myself against others, but simply to love Him more.

By this time, I had begun speaking in tongues—but only just. I could mumble the same few syllables over and over. There was no fluency, no richness, just a halting repetition.

Later that year, Reuben happened to visit our home. While chatting in the kitchen, I narrated my journey to him—how I had rejected his prayers, how I struggled for years, and how I felt my arrogance had delayed me. I apologised for my pride and for despising his anointing.

He barely remembered the incident. We both laughed.

He went on to share some profound truths about forgiveness that have stayed with me ever since. Before he left, he prayed over our entire family, simply committing us to God's care.

Learning the Language of the Spirit

Even after that visit, my tongues remained limited. I continued speaking, but with little fluency. I would often jokingly tell God, "Please give me mine like a song." Because I love singing, I thought that would be the perfect expression. But that wasn't how it happened.

My contentment shifted to holy hunger one year when our pastor invited Apostle Michael Orokpo to minister at our church. His message was amazing, but his speaking in tongues was on another level—something I had never heard before. Just listening to him gave me chills. My husband and I discussed it after church, both of us spellbound. It sounded like Aramaic or Hebrew, yet with a heavenly cadence that stirred a deep longing in me. After service, I asked the Holy Spirit again for that type of tongues—and not to forget the singing one, either. (That still hasn't happened.)

Still, I continued with what He had already given me. I made it a habit to talk to the Holy Spirit about everything in life: ministry, work, relationships—and yes, even sex. He became my closest confidant.

Then one day, mid-conversation with Him, a thought suddenly crystallized in my mind: If tongues are the language of the Spirit, then languages can be learned. Someone who isn't born speaking French can study it and become fluent—provided they have a teacher or tutor to guide them. So why couldn't my prayer language grow? I simply looked up and whispered, "Holy Spirit, since You are my Teacher, teach me Your language. Add more words to my vocabulary. Enroll me in Your school."

Nothing dramatic happened immediately. Life simply continued. But every now and then, I found myself speaking words I had never spoken before.

Then one year, during our annual fast, something happened.

As I prayed, words began pouring out uncontrollably. I was saying things I had never heard before—guttural, rhythmic, foreign sounds that felt both alien and completely natural. They came so fast I felt breathless, almost choking, like my spirit was trying to outpace my lungs. Honestly, if someone had been standing outside my room, they might have thought a chicken had invaded the house.

I was thrilled.

Later that evening, while trying to explain the experience to my sister, she suddenly interrupted me.

"You started sounding like a chicken."

My eyes widened.

"Exactly!"

She laughed and shared that she had experienced something remarkably similar—including the feeling of almost choking because the words kept pouring out so rapidly. At that moment, I felt deeply reassured.

I wasn't alone.

Today, my tongues still don't sound like Apostle Michael Orokpo's. They don't sound like a song either. But they are mine. My vocabulary has grown, my words come more boldly, and I have learned to embrace my own style. The Holy Spirit gave me what I needed, not what I asked for in my imagination—and I am grateful.

The Stanley Cup Lesson

After I finished telling this story to my friend's mum, the Holy Spirit brought another illustration to my mind.

My younger daughter, Zahra, had wanted a Stanley Cup for a long time because her best friend and her older sister (Nainai) had one. I told her she would have to earn it. If she performed exceptionally well and won a prize at the end of the school year, I promised I would buy it for her. We made this agreement at the beginning of the school year.

She worked incredibly hard. Although already an excellent student, she pushed herself even further. Her grades climbed, and her writing sharpened. Even her teacher commented, "Miss Zahra vexed this second term! She left nothing for anyone!" I was so proud of her.

Then, while thinking about what to buy for her birthday this year, the Holy Spirit reminded me of that Stanley Cup. Even though the school year is still wrapping up, her dad and I went to get it for her.

In that moment, I realized something. Zahra had worked hard, sure, but I wasn't bound by the timeline I had set for our agreement. I was the giver of the gift. I could choose to give it early simply because I loved her and wanted to delight her. Nothing restricted me. And so I did. Zahra was overjoyed.

In that same way, God is the giver of every good gift—including spiritual gifts. He isn't a reluctant dispenser. He doesn't wait until we've jumped through every hoop. We may ask, we may desire, we may pray—but He alone determines when, where, and how He gives. Whether we feel He is seemingly early, late, or right on the dot, know that His timing is always rooted in perfect love.

As Jesus reminds us in Matthew 7:9–11:

"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?... If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him?"

My Final Thoughts

My friend's mum laughed in her usual way, and together we agreed that we would simply continue praying with and for her daughter while trusting God with the outcome.

As for me, I'm grateful for how far the Lord has brought me. Today, I speak in tongues regularly—sometimes in a quiet whisper during private prayer, a language only He hears; other times, openly and freely as the Spirit prompts during worship or ministry. It has become a natural rhythm of communion. And yet, I hold it lightly. Paul teaches that this gift builds us up (1 Corinthians 14:4). It is sustenance—a direct line of edification between my spirit and God, bypassing my sometimes-clouded mind. But it is not a badge of honour.

I am reminded of this every time I think of my own mother. She is one of the finest Christians I know. She has long desired the gift of speaking in tongues. She has prayed for it and has been prayed for many times. Yet, to this day, it has not manifested in that way. Still, the fruit of the Spirit is evident throughout her life. Her character reflects Christ. God answers her prayers. Her life continually blesses others.

So no, our ability—or inability—to speak in tongues does not determine whether we belong to God or whether He hears us. It does not make us more loved or less loved. It does not make us more Christian or less Christian. And it certainly does not speed up or delay our prayers. What matters is this: we are His. And He is good—whether we speak in tongues or only in the language of a sincere, desperate heart.

This is simply my journey. Your story may be different. And that's perfectly okay.

I'd genuinely love to hear your own experiences, testimonies, questions, or reflections. We all learn when we listen to one another, and perhaps your story will encourage someone else the way others have encouraged me.