A Life of Minimum Destroys Marriages

A life or attitude of “minimum” destroys marriages.

Let me explain what I mean by “a life of minimum”. It's doing just the bare minimum to stay in your marriage. Going to work and making sure the bills are paid. That's great. Cleaning the house, cooking meals, making sure everyone gets fed. That's good.

But here's the problem: people who aren't married do that too.

Single people go to work. They pay rent. They take care of themselves. They clean their houses. They cook their meals.

What makes you think those are the only things needed to build a home?

Let me paint you a picture.

There's a couple who's been married for eight years. On paper, they're doing fine. The bills get paid on time. The house is clean. Dinner is on the table most nights. The kids get to school. Nobody's cheating. Nobody's yelling.

But there's no life in the marriage.

They function like roommates who share a lease and occasionally sleep in the same bed. They coordinate schedules. They divide responsibilities. They maintain the logistics of a household.

But they don't really know each other anymore. They don't talk about what's actually happening in their hearts. They don't dream together. They don't pray together. They don't pursue each other.

They're doing the minimum. And their marriage is slowly dying.

This is what happens when you reduce marriage to a list of tasks instead of understanding it as a covenant relationship that requires your whole heart.

The truth is, you can't build intimacy with leftovers. You can't create oneness with whatever energy remains after you've given your best to everything else.

So what does marriage need beyond the minimum?

How about we both hold hands and stand true and naked before God, truly one?

I'm not talking about physical nakedness here. I'm talking about spiritual vulnerability. Transparency. The kind of openness Adam and Eve had before the fall, when they were "naked and not ashamed."

Before sin entered the world, there was complete openness. No hiding. No pretending. No masks. They knew each other fully and were fully known.

That's what marriage is supposed to look like. Two people standing before God and each other with nothing hidden. No secret resentments. No unspoken wounds. No carefully curated versions of themselves designed to avoid conflict.

Just truth. Raw, honest, vulnerable truth.

But that requires more than doing the minimum. It requires courage. It requires humility. It requires the willingness to be seen in your weakness and still choose to stay.

How about we both honor each other, respect each other, and love each other so dearly that even if we had to do this again, we would choose each other?

That's the kind of environment we need in the home.

Not tolerance. Not coexistence. Not just making it work.

But honor. The kind that sees your spouse's value and treats them accordingly.

Respect. The kind that considers their thoughts, their feelings, their needs as important as your own.

And love. Not the shallow, feelings-based kind that evaporates when things get hard. But the deep, covenant kind that says, "I choose you. Again and again. Even when it's difficult. Even when I'm tired. Even when you frustrate me. I choose you."

Christ didn't give the minimum. He gave everything. And that's the standard for how we're supposed to love in marriage.

Not transactional love. Not performance-based love. Not "I'll love you as long as you meet my expectations" love.

But sacrificial, self-giving, relentless love.

Marriage requires us to provide emotional support for each other every single day.

Let me be specific about what that actually looks like, because "emotional support" can sound vague and overwhelming.

It looks like asking, "How are you really doing?" and then actually listening.

Not just "How was your day?" while scrolling through your phone. But genuine curiosity about what's happening in your spouse's inner world. What are they carrying? What are they worried about? What brought them joy today?

And then listening. Not to respond. Not to fix. Just to understand.

It looks like noticing when something is off.

You know your spouse. You can tell when they're not themselves. When they're quieter than usual. When they're more irritable. When they're withdrawn.

Don't ignore it. Don't wait for them to bring it up. Ask, gently. "I noticed you seem a little off today. What's going on?"

It looks like validating their feelings, even when you don't fully understand them.

Sometimes your spouse will be upset about something that doesn't make sense to you. Your instinct might be to dismiss it, minimize it, or explain why they shouldn't feel that way.

Don't. Just validate. "I can see this is really bothering you. Tell me more about it."

It looks like praying for them and with them.

Not just in crisis. Not just when things are falling apart. But daily. Regularly. Bringing your spouse before God in prayer, asking Him to strengthen them, protect them, guide them.

And praying together. There's something profoundly intimate about standing before God as one flesh, presenting your needs, your gratitude, your hearts together.

It looks like small acts of thoughtfulness throughout the day.

A text to check in. A note left on the counter. Taking care of something they normally handle so they can rest. Remembering what they mentioned was stressing them out and asking about it later.

These aren't grand gestures. They're daily deposits into the emotional bank account of your marriage. And they add up.

Emotional support isn't one big thing. It's a thousand small things done consistently, day after day, that communicate: "You matter to me. I see you. I'm with you."

And then there's forgiveness. Marriage requires us to forgive as quickly as possible.

That's tough.

Let me tell you why it's tough.

Because forgiveness feels like letting them off the hook.

When your spouse hurts you, there's a part of you that wants them to feel the weight of what they've done. You want them to sit in it. To understand how much it hurt. And forgiving quickly feels like you're minimizing the offense.

But that's not what forgiveness is. Forgiveness isn't saying, "It didn't matter." It's saying, "It did matter, but I'm choosing not to hold it against you."

Because quick forgiveness requires you to release control.

When you hold onto unforgiveness, you hold power. You can bring it up later. You can use it as leverage. You can punish them with emotional distance.

But when you forgive quickly, you surrender that power. And that feels vulnerable.

Because you're afraid they'll do it again.

If you forgive too quickly, what's to stop them from repeating the same behavior? Won't they just take advantage of your grace?

Maybe. But withholding forgiveness doesn't prevent that. It just breeds bitterness. And bitterness destroys you far more than it disciplines them.

Notice the standard: as God in Christ forgave you.

How did God forgive you? Quickly. Fully. Without holding your sins over your head. Without making you earn it back.

That's the model. And it's hard because it costs you something.

So how do you do it? How do you forgive quickly when everything in you wants to hold on?

Remember how much you've been forgiven.

When you're struggling to forgive your spouse, pause and remember how much God has forgiven you. Not to minimize what they did, but to put it in perspective.

You've been forgiven for far more than you'll ever have to forgive. And if God can forgive you freely, you can extend that same grace to your spouse.

Separate the person from the behavior.

Your spouse is not their worst moment. They're not defined by what they did wrong. They're a flawed human being, just like you, trying to navigate life and marriage imperfectly.

When you can see them as God sees them, beloved and valuable despite their failures, forgiveness becomes easier.

Choose forgiveness as an act of obedience, not a feeling.

You don't have to feel like forgiving to forgive. Forgiveness is a decision. A choice. An act of the will.

You say, "I choose to forgive you. I'm releasing this. I'm not going to hold it against you."
The feelings will follow. But you don't wait for the feelings to lead.

Talk about it, then let it go.

Quick forgiveness doesn't mean you don't address the issue. It means you address it, resolve it, and then release it. You don't keep bringing it up. You don't weaponize it in future arguments.

Once it's forgiven, it's done.

Love doesn't maintain a mental file of every offense to pull out later. It forgives and moves forward.

Here's what I want you to understand: the minimum will keep your marriage alive, but it won't make it thrive.

You can pay the bills, clean the house, and show up to family events. You can maintain the structure of a marriage without ever experiencing the intimacy it was designed for.

But is that really what you want? A marriage that technically exists but doesn't really live?

Or do you want a marriage where you know each other deeply? Where you support each other daily? Where you forgive quickly and love sacrificially? Where if you had to do it all over again, you'd choose each other without hesitation?

That kind of marriage doesn't happen by accident. It doesn't happen by doing the minimum.

It happens when you give your whole heart. When you go beyond what's required. When you love like Christ loved.

Do your marriage heartily. Not halfheartedly. Not just enough to get by.

Give it everything.

This week, I want you to do one thing that's more than the minimum.

Maybe it's initiating a real conversation with your spouse about what's going on in their heart.

Maybe it's forgiving something you've been holding onto.

Maybe it's praying with them before bed.

Maybe it's doing something thoughtful just because, not because you have to.

Whatever it is, go beyond the baseline. Give more than what's required.

And watch what happens. Watch how your marriage shifts when you stop treating it like a list of obligations and start treating it like the sacred covenant it is.

At Called to Marriage, we believe that thriving marriages require more than minimum effort. They require intentionality, sacrifice, and daily commitment to going beyond what's comfortable.

If you're ready to build a marriage that's fully alive, join the Called Community. We walk alongside couples who refuse to settle for just getting by.

Share this with someone who needs to hear it. And take the step today.

Stop doing just the minimum. Your marriage deserves more.