Vows part 1: As long as we both shall live…

Most weddings begin with careful planning. Budgets are built. Timelines are set. Details are refined. And that’s not a bad thing. Beauty matters. Thoughtfulness matters. Celebration matters.

But somewhere in the midst of planning a single day, we often speak words meant to carry the weight of an entire lifetime.

As long as we both shall live.

It’s one of the oldest phrases in the Western marriage tradition, and still one of the most demanding. Not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s honest. It names what marriage has always been understood to be: not a season, not a contract, not a feeling, but a lifelong covenant.

The vow we don’t make alone.

Tammy and I didn’t approach marriage lightly. And still, over the course of 27 years, there have been a few seasons when I wanted to give up.

From the outside, our story looked steady, almost inevitable. And in many ways, it was built with care. We went to the homecoming dance together in high school. We dated through college. We were married by the time I was a senior. 

Before we married, we did what thoughtful couples do. We received premarital counseling from our officiating pastor. We had long conversations with trusted family friends. We read books about marriage. We placed ourselves in teaching environments designed to prepare us for what was ahead. We entered marriage sincerely, intentionally, and with conviction.

Yet, I said the “D” word out loud more than once. Not because I was making plans to leave. Not because my wife had become a bad person. And not because I stopped believing in marriage. I still believed deeply in the promise we had made.

But in those moments, or those seasons, I didn’t want to do the internal or external work that a lifelong covenant requires. I didn’t doubt love. I doubted my capacity to endure.

Sometimes the desire to quit isn’t about disbelief.

It’s about exhaustion.

What saved us wasn’t willpower.

It was people. If I didn’t correct my heart within minutes, or at least within a couple of days, there were trusted voices in my life who helped me get my mind and spirit back on track again. They reminded me of what we had said out loud, what we had bound ourselves to, and why those words were never meant to be carried alone.

Because from the beginning, our marriage was shaped by a promise that assumed there would be moments like these, a vow not built for ideal conditions, but for the long road.

As long as we both shall live.

Why say this out loud?

When a couple speaks these words before their community, they are saying something very specific: We are not entering this naively. Not blindly hopeful. Not casually optimistic. Love has been tested by time, by difficulty, by counsel, by wisdom. This vow is not a leap in the dark; it is a step taken with open eyes.

They are saying, We are leaving the dating mindset behind. 

Marriage is not an extension of romance or compatibility. It is a different way of living altogether. One marked by sacrifice, forgiveness, patience, and perseverance, long after novelty fades and seasons change.

They are saying, We are placing our lives under accountability.

This promise is no longer private sentiment. It is a public commitment. We are binding ourselves not only to each other, but to a shared moral horizon, a standard that will shape how we love when love is hard.

And perhaps most importantly, they are saying, We cannot do this alone.

A vow and a request

When a couple vows “as long as we both shall live,” they are not only making a promise. They are making a request. They are asking their community to remember this day when they are tired.

To speak truth when avoidance is easier. To encourage reconciliation when withdrawal feels safer. To stand with them when endurance is required. This is not weakness. It is wisdom.

Marriage has never been meant to survive on private strength alone. It has always depended on shared formation on relationships that remind us who we promised to become when we stood at the altar.

Why we offer marriage coaching at The Renavelle

This is why marriage coaching, both before and during a couple's marriage, is not just an afterthought at The Renavelle. It’s an option we offer because we deeply believe in the seriousness of the vows being made and the community necessary to help fulfill them.

Not because couples are broken. Not because love is insufficient. But because lifelong covenants require lifelong formation.

Coaching creates space to name expectations, navigate conflict, and build rhythms that sustain marriage long after the wedding day has passed. It’s not about fixing what’s wrong; it’s about strengthening what’s precious before strain sets in.

A beautiful ceremony honors the moment.

Formation honors the lifetime.

A personal word

Once, Tammy’s parents saw how far we’d fallen and paid for us to go on a cruise while they cared for our young kids for a week, giving us space to breathe and remember who we were. Another time, Tammy called her mother in a moment of deep weariness and said she didn’t want to do this anymore. Her mother didn’t shame her. She reminded her of the greater vision and purpose of marriage and gently guided her back.

That’s community. That’s accountability. That’s formation.

What does it take to live this vow?

It takes more than sincerity. More than chemistry. More than a beautiful beginning. It takes humility to ask for help. Courage to stay when leaving feels easier. And people who love you enough to help you keep your promise.

As long as we both shall live is not just something to be spoken on a wedding day.

It is something to be lived, slowly, imperfectly, faithfully, over a lifetime.

And no one should have to carry that weight alone.