God Knows Processes (Processi...? Like Cactus and Cacti, or Like Horse and Horsee?)

I wouldn't pin this long, boring post to my beautiful wife, so I'll admit that it is I, Bryan, who wrote this.

God knew that our lives wouldn't be simple, and thus he knew that our problems wouldn't be solved with simple answers.

I'm learning quickly, that in marriage, issues worth "working on" are ones that are not sudden and over as soon as they are (or if they are) addressed. Those issues which have earned Bracy's scrutiny are those which are slight, chronic, recurring, and seem to never be over even if an argument concludes (no matter how nice the conclusion). These issues are process problems, not "single issue, single answer" problems.

God provides process answers for process problems, such as the first part of the letter James wrote in the bible. I don't usually remember numbers and stuff, or even exact quotes, but pretty much he wrote, "Rejoice in your trials, for even though they cause suffering, they also cause perseverance, and perseverance leads to (and I do quote exactly here) "all things"".

Are you looking for an answer in life? James says that trials lead to this mystical, "all things," idea. It is not suffering and then having a problem solved because you suffered. The answer is through and at the finality of a process.

Stacy, my loved one, and myself, have been having process problems. We got married, then after a few months, figured that we should argue with each other about everything, and demand that the other accede to our own personal right to be right; her right to be right as the wife whom I am supposed to love and give my life for, and mine as the husband to whom she should submit. After a short... year... we started thinking that perhaps we ought to discover a different way of communicating.

Here are a few things I have figured out; from my end(the ugly one).

~I am a better arguer than Stacy.
~Because I argue better, I win somewhere around 95% of our arguments.
~I Would win an argument using logic, reminding her of her own emotional inconsistency, and
prove that my point was far more logical than hers.
~Then she would feel guilty for arguing, getting frustrated, upset, and even angry at me.
~I would win; would be right. I felt terrible, and she felt terrible.
~We did this almost every other day.

I knew something was wrong, and for awhile I figured that Stacy should just listen to me and stop arguing with me, but then I realized that she was thinking the exact same thing, except she knew that she probably couldn't win most arguments with me.

So here is what I concluded:

I have been given a skill, a craft, at shaping ideas and words for my own purposes when it comes to one on one confrontation. I have nearly perfect memory when it comes to remembering individual sentences in an argument, and I can pick out every individual fallacy possible in any sentence anyone says to me. I am able to communicate clearly why I disagree with a concept, and then ask for an adequate defense against my polemic. By the time I get to this point, Stacy has only said two sentences, and after I responded she is nearly in tears with frustration.

One time I asked her, "Do you think clearly, logically, and objectively when we argue?" To which she responded, "No."

I figured that was how she kept losing these arguments. If she wasn't being logical, then she would not be consistent, and if she is not consistent, then I would point out her faulty logic and "win" the argument.

A very loving pastor recently told me that, "It is more important to love than to be right." I agree with him, but I want more than that. I want to love and be right.

So here is where we are at from my end. When Stacy and I argue, seriously, about something that we do actually need to resolve (as opposed to the argument adequately summed up as the hour long "How a Sponge Should Be Cleaned" argument) I have decided to try a new arguing tactic.

Since I am the superior arguer, I will attempt arguing for Stacy instead of against her. I will give her point every opportunity to be right, and try to prove her point. I will advocate for her against myself (well, my opposing viewpoint). We will work together against my opposing view, and see what conclusions we arrive at.

This way, even if I end up being right, I was fighting with Stacy and not against her the entire argument, and aside from a little multiple personality disorder, Bryan is doing fine... I mean, I am doing... fine.

So what is our solution to having lived in a quarrelsome marriage for over a year?

I don't know the end, but we are living the process. Our whole lives are the solution to a process problem like this.

The dissolution happens when we stop living the process; when we give up.

God knows our problems, and the process solution for our process problems is just as far away as opening his Word and beginning to read, and the process starts up again, like a car with an empty tank that just got a roadside refill, not to mention that the guy who stopped to fill up the tank for us died for us even after we accused him of being demon-possessed, and gave us the free gift of salvation.

One thing I also learned, and really like: we never argue about God's love. We never argue about how He saved and saves us. We never disagree that He is the answer. This is what I call a process refreshment.

Even if everything else seems to be falling apart, we can always agree on that, no matter how hard I try to find the fallacy in it.

There is none, and I'm willing and ready to defend that point.

Bryan Sg