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Perspective

The Art of Surrender in 'I Do'

  • Writer: Aaron Lambert
    Aaron Lambert
  • 24 minutes ago
  • 5 min read
Bride and groom kneel at altar in a church with colorful stained glass backdrop. Priest stands with raised hands. Ceremony atmosphere.
(Photo provided)

There are few words that a person will say in their lifetime that carry as much eternal weight as the two simple words couples say at the altar on their wedding day: "I do."


In uttering these two words, a man and his wife are doing much more than merely promising to lay down their lives for one another — though, to be sure, they are doing that too. "I do" is a mutual assent that a man and his wife will give themselves completely and totally to one another in a sacred covenant that cannot be undone: "I belong to you, and you belong to me."


Though a couple says “I do” at the altar, these two words could very well be substituted for a singular, more apt word for what happens in the sacrament of Holy Matrimony: surrender. And indeed, this word encapsulates the very essence of what marriage is. It is a complete and total surrender to one another.


Surrender, by its very nature, is a voluntary relinquishment or giving up control of something for the good of something or someone else. In the case of marriage, spouses surrender everything for the sake of the other and for the good of their marital bond. This is essentially what the Church refers to as “conjugal love” in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and indeed, the way the Catechism defines conjugal love goes hand in hand with the act of surrender:

“Conjugal love involves a totality, in which all the elements of the person enter — appeal of the body and instinct, power of feeling and affectivity, aspiration of the spirit and of will. It aims at a deeply personal unity, a unity that, beyond union in one flesh, leads to forming one heart and soul; it demands indissolubility and faithfulness in definitive mutual giving; and it is open to fertility. In a word, it is a question of the normal characteristics of all natural conjugal love, but with a new significance which not only purifies and strengthens them, but raises them to the extent of making them the expression of specifically Christian values” (CCC 1643).

After almost 12 years of marriage and seven kids, I can personally attest that the art of surrender is at the heart of what I do every day as a husband and a father, though quite imperfectly. Indeed, and perhaps somewhat paradoxically, the more that I empty myself for my wife and our children, the more I am filled with that supernatural grace that sustains me during those moments of trial that inevitably arise in marriage, from times of financial stress to those long nights with a sleepless baby.


Generally speaking, my family operates better when I think less of myself and put their needs before my own. That’s not to say that I neglect my own needs, which can very easily lead to resentment. Rather, I try to treat each moment as an opportunity to serve my family, knowing that each “little death” to myself builds deeper virtue. Furthermore, when I surrender my own wants and desires and offer myself as a “living sacrifice” for my wife and children, it allows more room for God to mold my heart and form me into the man, husband and father he is calling me to be.


Simply put, surrender is the way that each spouse leads the other to Heaven, which is ultimately what marriage is oriented toward. The prayerful refrain of the ever-popular Surrender Novena, “O Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything!” is a powerful prayer for spouses, because it is only in letting go that spouses can truly hold one another in sacramental love. Marriage is meant to image the great surrender that Christ displayed on the Cross, for it was through his complete surrender unto death that the Church was sanctified.


The art of surrender in marriage is not just limited to each individual spouse, however. In fact, the most fruitful form of surrender in marriage comes when both man and wife open themselves up completely to the fruit of marriage: kids. As the aforementioned passage from the Catechism states, “… it demands indissolubility and faithfulness in definitive mutual giving; and it is open to fertility.”


Now, for some, this may raise the question: why is the Catholic Church so concerned about fertility? Isn’t it enough that we’ve surrendered ourselves to being married for the rest of our lives? The Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes has a succinct but profound answer: “Children are really the supreme gift of marriage and contribute very substantially to the welfare of their parents” (GS 50).


Again, this seems to be a paradox: how can raising tiny humans who soil themselves and become walking money pits as they get older contribute to the parents’ welfare? Mother Church is not talking about material welfare here but something infinitely more important: spiritual welfare. This is again where the art of surrender becomes essential, not only in raising kids but also in welcoming them with open arms and loving hearts.


As an experienced father of six (soon to be seven), I can say with some confidence that parenthood is where the rubber meets the road in marriage. On the one hand, there is the utter uncertainty and total lack of control that comes with raising children together with your spouse. There have been countless times when multiple kids of ours are screaming simultaneously in a cacophonous chorus of chaos, clamoring for our attention, and my wife and I look at each other with wide-eyed desperation, wondering what in the world we got ourselves into. In those moments, surrender is all we have; God is asking us to put aside our own comforts to comfort our kids, and indeed, that usually remedies the situation.


On the other hand, the call to be radically open to life can be a cross in and of itself, because welcoming new children is hard work (and especially so if they come in pairs or more, as two of mine did). This is not to diminish the very real cross of infertility that many faithful couples experience; indeed, the difficulties that cross entails require another kind of radical surrender. The point is that, no matter the circumstance, surrender becomes a sacred act of letting go and letting God, trusting that his plan will bear greater fruit than our feeble human minds could ever imagine.


If you had told me 12 years ago that I would one day be a father to seven beautiful souls, I would have gawked (and probably fainted). My wife and I have always known we wanted children, and we have continually strived to surrender our fertility to the Lord and accept the gifts of life he has given us to care for, even amid the hardships that come with marriage. It hasn’t always been a pleasant stroll around the block — but the path to holiness never is.


For those married couples who are faithfully walking this path as wayfaring companions, placing one foot in front of the other each day is a persistent act of surrender. God doesn’t ask us to be perfect; he asks us to be faithful. He will direct our steps. His Word is the map, and surrender is the day-to-day journey. If you find yourself straying from the path, remember the promise of surrender in “I do.” Ask the Lord for the grace of surrender, for it is through surrender that man and wife are sanctified together.

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