02/12/2026
We need to talk about your marriage.
Not the version you show everyone else. Not the highlight reel on social media. Not the "we're fine" you tell people when they ask.
We need to talk about what's really happening behind closed doors.
The distance. The disconnection. The way you're married but lonely. Together but alone.
Your husband reaches for you, and you pull away. He tries to help, and you shut him out. He asks what's wrong, and you say "nothing" even though everything feels wrong.
And he's confused. Hurt. Wondering what happened to the woman he married. Wondering why he can't seem to reach you anymore.
And you? You're exhausted from keeping the walls up even at home. You're tired of the distance. You want connection, intimacy, partnership.
But you don't know how to let him in. Because letting him in means being vulnerable. And being vulnerable means risking being hurt.
So you stay behind your walls. And your marriage suffers for it.
And you both know something has to change. But neither of you knows how to break through.
Here's what happens when you bring your wounds into your marriage:
You make your husband pay for sins he didn't commit.
He's not the father who let you down, but you don't trust him the way you don't trust your father.
He's not the ex who betrayed you, but you're waiting for him to prove he's just like every other man who hurt you.
He's not the person who abandoned you, but you won't let yourself need him because needing people feels dangerous.
And so you keep him at a distance. You let him be your co-parent, your roommate, your partner in logistics... but not your partner in life.
You share a home but not your heart. You share responsibilities but not your struggles. You share a bed but not real intimacy.
And both of you are lonely in the same house.
Let me tell you what walls in marriage actually cost you:
First, they cost you intimacy. And I don't just mean physical intimacy, though that suffers too. I mean emotional intimacy. Spiritual intimacy.
The kind of connection where you're fully known and fully loved. When you have walls up, your husband can only love the version of you that you let him see.
And that version? It's not the real you. So even when he loves you, you don't fully receive it because you know he doesn't know the whole truth. And you stay lonely even in your marriage.
Second, they cost you partnership. Marriage was designed to be a partnership. Two people facing life together, carrying the weight together, making decisions together.
But when you won't let your husband in, you can't have real partnership. You make decisions without him. You carry burdens without him. You face challenges without him.
Not because he won't step up, but because you won't let him. And he feels it. He feels sidelined in his own marriage. Like you don't need him. Like he's not enough. And eventually, he stops trying.
Third, they cost you the healing that marriage can bring. God designed marriage to be a place of healing.
A place where old wounds can be addressed, where broken trust can be rebuilt, where you can learn to receive love even when you're scared.
But that only works if you're willing to be vulnerable and get healed up. If you're willing to let your husband see your wounds, know your fears, understand your past.
When you keep the walls up, you miss out on the healing that comes from being loved in your brokenness.
Ephesians 5:31-32 says: "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. This is a profound mystery."
One flesh. Not two separate people living parallel lives. One. United. Connected.
But you can't become one with someone you won't let in.
Genesis 2:25 tells us: "Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame."
Naked. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. Fully known. Fully exposed. And no shame.
That's what marriage is supposed to be. But you can't have that when you're hiding behind walls, your past hurts, and wounds.
Your husband isn't perfect. He's going to mess up. He's going to disappoint you sometimes. He's human.
But is he safe? Has he proven himself trustworthy? Is he trying to love you well?
If the answer is yes, then the walls aren't protecting you. They're punishing him. And imprisoning you.
I'll never forget the night my husband said to me, "I feel like I'm married to a timebomb.
I don't know what you're thinking, what you're feeling, what you need. And every time I try to get close, you push me away."
And he was right.
I'd been keeping him at arm's length for years. Not because he'd done anything to deserve it, but because I was terrified of being hurt again.
I'd decided it was safer to be lonely in my marriage than risk being vulnerable and disappointed.
And it was destroying us.
Learning to let him in was the hardest thing I've ever done. Because it meant risking the very thing I'd been protecting myself from: rejection, disappointment, pain.
But what I learned was this: Walls don't just keep pain out. They keep love out too.
And the safety I thought I was creating? It was actually isolation.
My husband couldn't hurt me because I wouldn't let him close enough. But he also couldn't love me because I wouldn't let him close enough.
And that's not a marriage. That's cohabitation.
Taking down the walls didn't mean I became naive or stopped having boundaries. It meant I stopped punishing him for someone else's sin.
It meant I started giving him the chance to be who he actually is, not who I feared he might become.
So here's your work this week, and it's going to be uncomfortable:
Have the conversation you've been avoiding.
Sit down with your husband. Not during an argument. Not when you're exhausted. Choose a time when you can actually talk.
And say something like this:
"I know I've been keeping you at a distance. And I want you to understand why. It's not because of anything you've done. It's because I've been hurt before, and I've been protecting myself.
But in protecting myself, I've been pushing you away. And I don't want to do that anymore. I want to learn how to let you in. But I need your patience while I figure out how."
And then actually listen to him. Let him share what it's been like on his side of the wall. Let him tell you what he needs. What he's been feeling.
Don't defend. Don't justify. Just listen.
Then ask him: "What's one way I could let you in this week that would feel meaningful to you?"
Maybe it's sharing what's really on your mind instead of saying "I'm fine."
Maybe it's letting him help with something instead of insisting you've got it.
Maybe it's being physically affectionate without it having to lead somewhere.
Whatever it is, commit to it. And follow through.
Your marriage can't survive indefinitely behind walls.
I know you're scared. I know vulnerability feels dangerous. I know you've been hurt before and you don't want to be hurt again.
But your husband isn't everyone else. And you're not giving him the chance to prove that.
Marriage without walls doesn't mean marriage without wisdom. It doesn't mean ignoring red flags or pretending problems don't exist.
It means being brave enough to be known. Honest enough to be real. Trusting enough to receive love.
Your husband can't fight for a marriage he's not invited into. He can't love a woman he's not allowed to know.
And you can't have the intimacy you're longing for if you're not willing to take down the walls.
It's time. Not someday. Now to allow God into the places in your heart that have been hurt and wounded from the past and even from your husband.
Forgiveness matters, and so does giving God permission to move behind the walls to meet your needs for healing
Next week, we're talking about "Authentic Community" - how to build real friendships and let people see the real you.
Let's pray:
God, we bring our marriages to You. We confess we've been hiding, protecting ourselves, keeping our husbands at a distance. Forgive us for punishing them for sins they didn't commit. Give us courage to be vulnerable. Give us wisdom to know how to let them in. Heal our marriages. Restore intimacy. Help us become the partners You designed us to be. We can't do this without You. Amen.
See you next week.
