How Two Become One

by adding a one more

Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” Genesis 2:24 ESV

Hold on. One flesh? Two people become one flesh?
Is this Ancient Near-East poetry for conception?
Is that God's quintessential product for marriage?
And does that make marriage merely a fleshly arrangement?

Or does God mean two become one on multiple levels?
Are they two like floors of a building, his floor and hers, 
united under one address—but one has a nicer view.
And if that's the case, can I have the upper story, please?

Or perhaps God was saying that the union of two genders—
male and female—uniquely reflect our one God.
Don’t ask me who reflects what parts of God. That’s sexist.
And sorry, single people, guess you’re only half God’s image.

Or maybe God is giving us a philosophy of synergy.
I build up you; you build up me. We’re better together,
but not so for all the unhappily-wed people who're sure
someone else would compliment them better. And aren’t they right?

Or perhaps it’s like yellow and blue making green.
Two colors give up their hues and promise
to live a green life with green love,
forever and ever until death do them part.

In that case, who blames Yellow for reserving part of 
his yellow for himself? And why should Blue give all, 
commit all, and surrender all when Yellow is only in it halfsies?
And then, if both give in part, are the two even one?

Or is this oneness like what Jesus said:
“…may my disciples become one, just as you, Father, 
are in me, and I in you. May they be in us, 
so the world may believe that you sent me.”

Well, that’s as clear as mud. Those were men.
And marriage is no holy trinity. It’s a trap.
Chemicals go off in your brain rendering you temporarily insane, 
flinging you before an altar where you promise the unfathomable.

Now you’re stuck, or you squeeze out and feel a failure.
Some work hard. Others try again. Time drags on.
The body breaks down. The mind grows dull. 
Novelty runs into ruts. And fewer substances enthrall.

But what’s the use of crying if the colors don’t mix?
Two rarely have synergy in anything other than chemistry.
How could they unless their spirits also become
one in hope and pleasure and ambition?

Not one in his ambitions or her's but another's.
One outside and above them, around and in them, 
able to give them the same mind, the same hues of love
produced at the right time and aiming towards one purpose.

We know that spirit. But, turns out, we’re inhospitable hosts 
to him due to our self-preserving instincts.
We know what God wants and we’ve deemed it too much. 
Lose myself for the sake of that other? No, thank you.

Give us counseling. Give us separate beds.
Give him a garage and her some solo vacations.
We’ll scour the earth over for a solution other than
to give up ourselves for a friend. We thought we tried that.

And since no one can dream up freedom from inside prison, 
we only see how the surrender of our personalities 
will trap us in that green world again with no hope of escape.
Two solitary colors only produce one hue of love.

How could we understand that—unlike blue and yellow
making green—when someone yields to a holy God,
he casts himself into a prism of pure refracted light,
where every color becomes him and emanates from him.

The marriage vow is the entryway. 
Not our promise 
to a spouse but God’s to us. 
“If you take my hand, 
and give up all your little loves 
as if you might never see them again, 
I’ll show you how you and me 
can become one.
And through this unity, 
I'll transform you to love this spouse of yours 
more than any other human, 
even yourself,
Then the world will know
I have sent you.”

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friend.” John 15:13 (ESV)