Several years ago, we took our kids on a family vacation to Yellowstone National Park. We toured many stops along the road through the park, but there was one in particular that really grabbed my attention. It was so ugly and depressing. When I think of God’s beautiful creation and the pictures you often see of Yellowstone, this is not the view I had in mind!
When you think of Yellowstone, you think of beautiful landscapes and scenery like waterfalls and Old Faithful, and free roaming animals like bison, elk, and moose. You don’t think of decay in and around the trees and rotten odors.
The day I took this picture, we were exploring the Firehole Spring area in the Lower Geyser Basin of Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. This area was littered with gray, ashy trees and spots on the ground. It almost looked like a fire had grown a little wild. But there was no fire. The signs on the trail called these geological phenomena: fumaroles and mudpots. I had never heard of them before, so I Googled them. The word “fumarole” ultimately comes from the Latin fumus, “smoke”, and it is an opening in the planet’s crust, often in areas surrounding volcanoes, which emits steam and dangerous, toxic gases (carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, hydrogen chloride, and hydrogen sulfide). The gases are so toxic they destroy the living trees around them. As I stood there looking at these trees and the ground, the past came to mind. And as the thoughts festered, it was like the Lord was poking my heart.
My husband and I have been married 20 years, but not all 20 have been easy.
There was a time – a season – our love was stale and stagnant. A dry desert had formed about halfway through those years. If my husband was at work, I was at home. If I was at work, he was at home. It became a tag-team, roommate relationship. We became distant and I began fostering feelings of being unloved and uncared for. I falsely accused my husband of wanting to find love elsewhere. I thought our marriage was over. I thought he had given up on me. If I could describe our marriage in one word, at that time, it would sadly have been: disdain. Disdain is defined as “the feeling that someone or something is inferior or unworthy of one’s consideration or respect”; “contempt”; “to refuse or reject something out of feelings of pride or superiority”; “to treat as beneath one’s notice or dignity”.
I looked at that tree in the park and saw my husband trying to stand and lead in our marriage and in our home; and like that tree in the forest, he was trying to grow and flourish.
And there I was, like that fumarole on the ground, boiling over with toxic words and actions.
There are a couple things my husband doesn’t like: small talk and confrontation. He doesn’t like to share his own thoughts or opinions – especially when he thinks they aren’t relevant or won’t be received well. And this was one of the issues in our marriage: communication barriers. He wasn’t going to risk upsetting me, or receiving negative feedback, so he would often fall back into more of a passive role because it was more comfortable to stay there. But his lack of action and engagement made me think I wasn’t enough, or loved, cared for, desired, or important. So I would boil over like that fumarole with toxic gases of bitterness, resentment, sadness, and loneliness.
When you visit this area of Yellowstone where the fumaroles and mudpots are seen, you will find the nearby trees in a state of decay.
Little by little, the branches on the trees are consumed. The ground is virtually dissolved and the soil around the base of the trees erodes away, exposing the roots of the tree. Their weaknesses are left exposed and their existence is left vulnerable in the environment. The landscape seems as if it is stricken with a geological cancer. The physical state of the ground and surrounding vegetation appear diseased and that is exactly how my marriage had appeared.
I had looked to my husband as my savior and placed expectations on him that should have only been given to God. And as Ruth Graham said,
“It is a foolish woman who expects her husband to be to her that which only Jesus Christ Himself can be: ready to forgive, totally understanding, unendingly patient, invariably tender and loving, unfailing in every area, anticipating every need, and making more than adequate provision. Such expectations put a man under an impossible strain.”
As I read the signs posted at each stop along the trail, the conviction set in. A real life parable. A picture of sin – my sin. And it preached!
Fumaroles occur along tiny cracks or long crevices, in chaotic clusters or fields, and on the surfaces of lava flows. When we didn’t have Christ on the throne in our lives, and instead had each other in His position, we had created a crack in our marriage – just like those cracks in the soil. One tiny crack gave way to another, and another, and eventually a long crevice opened up and something had to give.
In order to form, fumaroles require both heat and water. In our marriage crisis, it was not solely the fault of one person. It took both of us to create the disaster. My husband wasn’t leading our family and loving his wife as Christ loved the church. And I wasn’t submitting to my husband as unto the Lord, nor was I showing my husband the respect I was called to give him.
Fumaroles are often accompanied by mudpots; another geological phenomena commonly known to the Yellowstone National Park area. Hydrogen sulfide gas is usually present; giving mud pots their characteristic odor of rotten eggs! Boy if that didn’t describe our marriage trial, I don’t know what else could! It was rotten alright! The stench was overwhelming – figuratively and literally!
In the midst of my marriage mess, I realized I desperately needed the intervention and revival of the Lord. I had finally reached the point where I knew it was well beyond my control. I had many talks with the Lord and cried out to Him because He was the only One who could fix it. Before anything can be corrected, there needed to be some changes and I needed to turn back to the Lord. God is always faithful and always present in our situations.
I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose and continued on the trail. I whispered to myself, “Lord, thank you for this real life parable. Thank you for reminding me what we once were and what you saved us from. It is so clear what our sin is to you. It stinks. It permeates everything and ruins an otherwise beautiful landscape and experience.” Our pride stinks. Our disrespect stinks. Our unloving actions and words stink. Our bitterness and unforgiving spirit stinks.
More than anything, I desired my husband to lead. I wanted him to be bold. I wanted him to be fun and light-hearted, but also strong and determined. And I prayed for the Lord to guide him in this. I prayed the Lord would help me love him like I needed, and to respect him and his position in our home. I wanted to help him and not hinder his growth in the Lord or hold him back from any work the Lord has for him.
I listened to as many sermons on marriage that I could get my hands on. I read as many Christian articles and books on marriage that I could find. And in time, God answered the cries of my heart. He also restored me personally and revived my faith. The doors of communication were finally opened between us as husband and wife. God restored our marriage and helped me to think differently about my husband. I began to love him more deeply and to cherish him and respect him more. I had experienced a moment of clarity that Charles Spurgeon describes so well:
“He who grows in grace remembers that he is but dust, and he therefore does not expect his fellow Christians to be anything more; he overlooks ten thousand of their faults, because he knows his God overlooks twenty thousand in his own case. He does not expect perfection in the creature, and, therefore, he is not disappointed when he does not find it.”
It was a relief to finally remove those lofty expectations from my husband and let him be human. I am not perfect, nor have I “arrived” at complete grace, and I should not expect my husband to be either. We are both human – and flawed humans at that.
Visiting the park that day gave me an unlikely view; one I needed to be reminded of. I paused to give thanks – not only for the restoration of my marriage and the revival of our faith, but also for the redeeming work of the Savior on the cross. We are like those fumaroles and mudpots – smelly, dirty, rotten sinners. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8). Thank you, Lord for having mercy on a sinner like me. Thank you for your lovingkindness, faithfulness, grace and mercy.
One could read my marriage testimony and think, “Girl, you were ridiculous!” Yes. I was. But I think many of us initially approach Christ in this way. We come to Him out of desperation, but only after we’ve tried all human possibilities for relief and control. We are desperate for healing, restoration, direction, purpose, identity, and freedom from the bondage of sin. Whatever the source of our desperation, we need to always look to Jesus for help. I am thankful that Jesus doesn’t turn us away. I am thankful He didn’t turn me away. He comes when we seek Him, and He looks on us with compassion and meets us where we are.