Free Beyond Ordinary: When a Good Marriage Just Isn't Good Enough by Justin Davis, Trisha Davis Page B

unhappy with my job; Trisha longed to be closer to her family. I wanted to pretend that we didn’t argue all the time. I wanted to pretend that we felt confident as parents. I wanted to make believe that Trisha wasn’t emotionally needy and I wasn’t emotionally disconnected. I wanted to pretend that our marriage wasn’t as weary and frayed as it already was. I wanted to pretend that things were okay with us even when they weren’t. Because I am a fixer, I thought that if we could move closer to her family, that would solve everything. We could find a bigger, better ministry so I would be happy, and we could move closer to Trisha’s family so she could be happy.
    I made some phone calls to pastors, professors, and other contacts I had in the Chicagoland area, seeking a youth ministryposition closer to Trisha’s home. A little over a year into our first student ministry, I resigned, and we moved to Batavia, Illinois, to a bigger church and student ministry.
    But far from fixing our problems, the move made some of them more evident than ever. One of them, as Trisha mentioned, was my not always being truthful. I remember the first time I intentionally distorted truth with Trisha. We had been in Illinois only a few months when we took a group of students to a campus event at Lincoln Christian College. The college was just a few hours away, so we loaded up a few fifteen-passenger vans and headed south. I thought this would be a great way for us to get to know the students and to build the foundation for a healthy student ministry.
    The kickoff to the weekend was a concert performed by Audio Adrenaline, one of my favorite Christian bands at the time. Because Trisha and I were only a little more than a year removed from being students at the college, we still had several friends who were there, and I was asked to help with security at the concert. I was all in favor of that, because I tend to be starstruck, and working security would give me an all-access pass to stalk—I mean, meet —the band. I was pumped.
    My security responsibility during the concert was pretty easy. I had to stand at the front of the auditorium and make sure none of the kids tried to get on stage. Trisha and I stood next to each other during the concert, and our students were allowed to be up in the front as well. It seemed like a win for everyone.
    About halfway through the concert, my eyes caught Trisha’s, and she looked furious. She said, “I can’t believe you!” and left the auditorium. I knew in my heart what she meant, and I followed her outside, through the lobby, and into the parking lot. She was walking fast, crying hard, and not interested in anything I had to say. I repeatedly asked her what was wrong. She turned and looked at me dead in the eyes, tears streaming down her face, and said, “I saw you checking out that girl in front of you. You were staring at her body!”
    She was right, of course, but there was no way I was going to admit it. I had to convince her she was wrong. I was defensive. I acted appalled. I pretended she was crazy. I matched the intensity of her accusation with determination to prove my innocence. I told her I would never do that. I told her she was projecting her parents’ divorce on me and that this was about her insecurity and not my lusting. I broke her down, convincing her that our marriage was different; I was different; she didn’t have to feel insecure or anxious. What was going to destroy our marriage was her living with a posture of accusation, not my lusting after other women. What I’ve just said in a few sentences took a few hours of manipulation then.
    The three fears mentioned at the beginning of the chapter will do incredible things. Fear of being found out, fear of emotional pain, and fear of not being loved convinced me that the lies I was telling were helping our marriage, while I was actually tearing Trisha apart—I just couldn’t see it at the time. My intention wasn’t to hurt