It was beautiful.  Everything changed.

In this photo, Campbell Creek winds through midtown Anchorage.  Hundreds of mosquitoes were murdered in this spot.  They had no idea they were at a June wedding.

I brought all of my supplies: a bible, two sets of my notes, a stand for my notes, flat bread and juice for communion, small plastic communion cups, and a wine glass for display.  I also brought a second stand that was missing a tightening pin.  The wine glass broke before the service.  The blood of Christ poured out for me.

She wore white, and he wore a grin.  We came there for a covenant.  But, what is a covenant?  Words?  Promises?  Somehow, I said words; they said words; and then I said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”  I may have even said, “God will make two one flesh.”  But, that brings up the question, “What was God doing before?” He made the flesh.  He cared for the flesh.  He guided the flesh through all the past bad relationships.  Then he began to wind these two fleshii together, to bind their parents and families together.  And then, there we were.  We were a bunch of flesh getting munched on by mosquitoes.  It was beautiful.

I don’t know if you believe me, but a miracle happened that day.  The two becoming one is a miracle in progress.  The miracle that happens is that at a wedding we have the audacity to tell God, “Listen to these promises. They are important.”  God smiles and consecrates them. The marriage covenant is temporary in our culture.  People have first, second, third, fourth and fifth marriages.  But, the marriage covenant is eternally temporary.

“For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven”  (Matt 22:30).

We see that the words we say in a marriage ceremony sound like all our words and appeals to God.  “God! This right now really matters.  Do something!”  Our something could be to heal, to guide, to consecrate, to protect.  And God obliges us.  He doesn’t say, “You fool.  Your circumstances are temporary.  My Glory is there for you to behold.  I am making all things new.  Why fumble with broken things?”  The miracle of a marriage ceremony is that God hears our words and consecrates our broken things, our tentative things, our fragile marriages.  He uses our broken things to show his holiness.  Broken things leak holiness.

Halfway through the ceremony I spoke for someone else and said, “This is my body broken for you.”