I was in Nigeria recently.
One thing that never fails to amaze me is the traffic.
Not because it's efficient.
Because somehow it works.
At least that's what it looks like from a distance.
Cars squeezing into spaces that don't exist.
Three lanes becoming five.
Motorcycles appearing from angles that seem to violate the laws of physics.
Horns everywhere.
Nobody waiting their turn.
Everybody convinced they can save three seconds by creating a problem for everyone else.
And yet...
people eventually get home.
Most days, nobody is asking whether the system works.
The proof appears obvious.
"Did you get there?"
"Yes."
Then it worked.
Or did it?
Because getting there is not the only metric that matters.
You got there frustrated.
You got there exhausted.
You got there angry.
Your shoulders are tight.
Your blood pressure is elevated.
Your nerves are fried before the day even starts.
Yes, you arrived.
But something was spent along the way.
That realization followed me home because I started seeing a parallel in marriage.
There are marriages that function exactly like that traffic.
They work.
At least on paper.
The bills get paid.
The children are raised.
The house stays standing.
Anniversaries come and go.
Pictures are posted.
People stay married.
Eventually, everyone gets home.
But not without dents.
Not without scratches.
Not without unnecessary wear and tear.
Every conversation feels like merging into traffic.
Every disagreement becomes a contest.
Every correction sounds like an attack.
Every request is met with defensiveness.
Every issue requires horns.
Louder.
Harder.
More aggressive.
The marriage survives.
But surviving and thriving are not the same thing.
I've seen couples who are technically succeeding while quietly deteriorating.
The relationship keeps moving forward, but the emotional cost is enormous.
You can spend twenty years arriving at destinations while damaging each other the entire journey.
And after a while, the damage becomes normal.
That's the dangerous part.
Nobody notices because everybody else around them is driving the same way.
When dysfunction becomes common, it starts looking healthy.
When chaos becomes familiar, peace starts feeling suspicious.
A couple can go years without realizing that constant tension is not a requirement for intimacy.
That conflict is not communication.
That noise is not connection.
That endurance is not necessarily growth.
The Bible says:
"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." Romans 12:18
Notice it doesn't say avoid difficult conversations.
Peace is not the absence of hard truths.
Peace is the presence of order.
Peace is being able to disagree without becoming enemies.
Peace is being able to correct without humiliating.
Peace is being able to express hurt without launching missiles.
Peace is knowing that the person across from you is not a threat.
Some marriages are exhausting not because the problems are unusually large, but because every problem is handled inefficiently.
A forgotten errand becomes a character assassination.
A misunderstanding becomes a courtroom.
A disagreement becomes a referendum on the entire relationship.
The issue gets resolved eventually.
The destination is reached.
But at what cost?
Sometimes the greatest improvement a marriage can make is not solving bigger problems.
It's reducing unnecessary friction.
Less honking.
Less cutting each other off.
Less assuming the worst.
Less fighting for position.
Less proving.
More listening.
More yielding.
More patience.
More grace.
More consideration.
Because there is a difference between a marriage that merely works and a marriage that works well.
One gets people home.
The other lets them arrive with their hearts intact.
And perhaps that's worth paying attention to.
Not just asking:
"Are we still together?"
But also:
"What is this journey doing to us?"
Because arriving at the destination isn't the only goal.
How we travel matters too.
👣 Be Better. 💛 Love Better. 🙌🏾 Do Better. 💍Marriage Works.
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