Welcome back to Pomoja Podcast, a ministry of
life of Christ International Ministries. Pomoja
means together. And that's exactly what this
space is about. The place where stronger lives
are built. Faith is strengthened. Hearts are
encouraged. And Christ -centered homes are shaped
through ordinary conversations that become extraordinary
encounters with God's truth. One conversation.
One story. one revelation at a time. Thank you
for joining me for another powerful conversation.
Today, we continue our journey inside. The house
in the middle of the forest. The visitor has
finally entered the house. The door has closed
behind him. Everything he imagined from the outside
has become reality. The house is beautiful. Peace
fills every room. There is laughter. There is
joy. There is love. But then, he notices something
unexpected. The house is warm. Not just comfortable.
Warm. And for many years, I wondered why my father
included that detail. Why mention the warmth?
Why not describe the furniture, the decorations,
or the meal? Instead, he wanted us to notice
the warmth. Now, I believe I understand. The
warmth wasn't describing the temperature of the
house. It was revealing the journey of the people
living inside it. Because every marriage, every
family, every relationship will eventually experience
heat. Not every fire destroys. Some fires reveal,
some fires refine. Some fires prepare us to become
what God has already declared us to be. Today,
I want to talk to you about the inevitable fire.
One of the greatest misconceptions about marriage
is believing that love eliminates conflict. It
doesn't. Marriage does not remove our humanity.
It brings two human beings with different stories,
different personalities. different expectations,
different habits, different strengths, and different
weaknesses into one covenant. Think about it.
Two people raised in different homes, different
cultures, different family traditions, different
ways of expressing love, different ways of handling
pain, different ways of solving problems. Then
God says, become one. Notice the word scripture
uses. not you are one, but you shall become one.
Becoming is a journey. It doesn't happen at the
altar. It begins there. The wedding creates the
covenant. Life shapes the union. And somewhere
along that journey, the warmth of the house becomes
a fire. Not because the marriage is failing,
but because God is forming something that cannot
be produced without heat. Some lessons cannot
be learned in prayer alone. Some maturity cannot
be gained in peaceful seasons. Some character
cannot grow without pressure. Fire reveals what
comfort often hides. Before I continue, I want
to stop teaching for a moment and simply speak
to you as a husband. My wife and I have been
married for 18 years before we were married.
We dated for five. Together, we've spent more
than two decades walking this journey. We're
both followers of Jesus Christ. We're born again.
We love God's word. We love his church. Today,
by the grace of God, we have a beautiful family,
a deep friendship, and a love that continues
to grow. But getting here wasn't easy. We've
walked through real storms, not imagined ones.
Real disappointments. Real misunderstandings.
Real pain. There were seasons when we honestly
wondered if we were going to make it. There were
nights when we believed love had disappeared.
Moments when we stopped hearing each other's
hearts. Times when we separated our finances.
conversations about lawyers, plans to live separate
lives. There was a season when we truly believed
we had lost our first love and then the heat
found us. It was our first real fight, not a
disagreement, not a misunderstanding, a real
fight. I was angry, frustrated, overwhelmed.
Everything inside me felt like it was exploding.
Then In one moment, I have never forgotten. I
took off my wedding ring, threw it across the
room, watched it hit the floor, and shouted,
you lied to me. Those words didn't come from
hatred. They came from hurt. Looking back today,
I realized something. That day, the house wasn't
warm. It was hot, uncomfortable, confrontational.
Everything hidden was suddenly exposed. But now
I understand God allowed that fire not to destroy
us, but to reveal us. Because fire always exposes
what peace can hide. It exposed my pride, my
expectations, my immaturity, my inability to
communicate, my desire to be understood before
understanding. The fire wasn't revealing who
my wife was. The fire was revealing who I was.
And sometimes that's God's greatest work in marriage.
But here's what still amazes me. When the fire
became too much, God sent people, not judges,
not critics, mentors, a pastoral couple who became
our spiritual father and mother. They didn't
come to choose sides. They came to protect the
covenant. They sat with us. They listened. They
calmed the emotions in the room. Without removing
the lesson God wanted us to learn, they taught
us how to communicate without attacking, how
to listen without preparing a defense, how to
forgive without keeping score, how to fight for
each other instead of against each other. Looking
back now, I realize they were more than mentors.
They were instruments of God's mercy. Throughout
scripture, God has always surrounded his people
with voices of wisdom. Moses had Jethro. Joshua
had Moses. Ruth had Naomi. Elisha had Elijah.
Timothy had Paul. The pattern has never changed.
Sometimes the Holy Spirit speaks through his
word. Sometimes through quiet conviction. And
sometimes he speaks through people whose lives
carry the wisdom we desperately need. Mentorship
is not a sign of weakness. It is one of God's
greatest gifts. It is wisdom, walking into your
home. Grace, sitting at your table. Mercy, arriving
before your marriage falls apart. Inside that
season, God was building something we could not
yet see. He was teaching us maturity. teaching
us to manage our emotions instead of allowing
our emotions to manage us. Teaching us unity,
teaching us to breathe the same vision, to carry
the same purpose, to become one family, one heart,
one covenant. Most importantly, he was teaching
us dependence, the painful realization that we
could not build this marriage. Without him, marriage
isn't sustained by feelings. Feelings rise and
feelings fall. Marriage is sustained by covenant,
by grace, by forgiveness, by the strength that
only Christ provides. Then one day, I looked
back and finally understood the fire had never
been trying to destroy us. It had been transforming
us. The same room where I threw my wedding ring
became the room. where God taught us how to love.
The same heat that exposed our weaknesses became
the heat that shaped our character. Maybe your
house feels warm today. Maybe it even feels hot.
Maybe you're wondering if your marriage can survive.
I want to encourage you, don't judge your marriage
only by the temperature of the moment. Ask instead.
What is God producing through this season? Because
if Christ remains at the center, the fire is
not your enemy. It is his workshop. He is making
two people become one. One language, one vision,
one purpose, one family, one testimony, one witness
to the world. And that is why the warmth inside
the house was never meant to frighten the visitor.
It was meant to reveal A beautiful truth. Lasting
love is not forged in feelings. Lasting love
is forged in fire. Next time, we'll discover
something just as important. Not the fire every
marriage must face, but the fire every marriage
must choose and keep burning. Until then, may
God bless your home. Strengthen your covenant.
and keep the fire of His love alive within your
house. I'll see you in our next conversation.