Wars rage for it, blood spills for it, leaders trade men for it — the crown.

Souls exchange God for it, young men deceive for it, Christ has been sold for it — money.

Fathers desert families for it, Pharisees crucify their Messiah for it, men sell their souls for it — glory.

Yet what are these when placed beside that which God himself says it is not good for man to be without (Genesis 2:18)? What crown is brighter? “An excellent wife is the crown of her husband” (Proverbs 12:4). What treasure is more desirous? “She is far more precious than jewels” (Proverbs 31:10). What splendor better demands his attention? “Woman is the glory of man” (1 Corinthians 11:7).

She is the night to his day, the moon to his sun, the suitable one God fashioned from him and for him (Genesis 2:18; 1 Corinthians 11:8–9). Man’s first recorded words sing not to Eden’s garden nor even to Eden’s God, but to her, Eden’s queen. The libraries of the world burst with man’s adoration, continuing stanzas started in the garden:

This at last is bone of my bones
     and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called Woman,
     because she was taken out of Man. (Genesis 2:23)

Yet, as with lesser crowns, lesser jewels, lesser glories, she too can draw unwatchful hearts from supreme love for God. Pure loves, towering loves, as the angels high and fair, fall faster and descend deeper, down to the depths of devils. Brother has backstabbed brother for her, a thousand ships have sailed for her, heaven has been refused for her — woman.

Jesus warns against a man’s inordinate love for his helper with utter seriousness: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own . . . wife . . . he cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26).

Romantic Suicide

Any love that leads a husband to disobey God, abdicate his responsibility, choose her over Christ in the moment of decision or the drift of a lifetime — such is not love from above. This age catechizes with romance novels and Romcoms, commends a carnal love, a love that pinches its incense before Aphrodite and Eros. As with Romeo and Juliet, it is a godless, idolatrous infatuation, a romantic suicide.

But this is not Christ’s love for his bride. Although Christ’s love for his bride is unrivaled — it travels to hell and back, sheds its precious blood, wears her sin and shame, empties itself to raise her to his throne — still, it contains not one ounce of idolatry. It never trades light for dark. It never terminates on just the two of them. It does not surpass or exclude or impede his love for his Father. Instead, love for his church is cast within the wild sea of masculine love between a Father and his only begotten Son. He draws us up into a love older and higher: “O righteous Father, . . . I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them” (John 17:25–26).

So when Jesus says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own . . . wife . . . he cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26), he does not mean, “Love your wife less or you cannot be my disciple.” He means, “Love her to the full, as I have loved my church, and love me with all.” He means, “You shall love me, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength.” When juxtaposed, when put as rivals, when one must be chosen and the other denied, a husband and wife must both choose God above their spouse. His throne is so exalted that even the highest love for a wife is considered hatred in comparison. “You shall have no gods, no other beauties, no other loves above me or apart from me.” As Augustine prayed, “He loves thee too little, who loves anything together with thee, which he loves not for thy sake” (Confessions, 10.29.40).

This is personal to me because I grew up believing the “you-complete-me” love story that chases happiness away from God. She would be my morning, my meaning, the Alpha and Omega of my heart. I offered my confession of a helpless romantic. Maybe other men didn’t need to be warned of a distorted love for wife, but I did, even before I had one. Maybe other men needed to be warned to get serious about cherishing and nourishing their wife. Still he offers the same to all would-be disciples: husbands, if you come to Jesus and do not hate your own wife — that is, love her significantly less than the all you love him with — you cannot be his disciple.

Heeding Her Voice

Ever since the garden, man has struggled to keep proper boundaries. Consider Milton’s commentary on Adam as he follows Eve into rebellion:

However, I with thee have fixed my lot,
Certain to undergo like doom; if death
Consort with thee, death is to me as life;
So forcible within my heart I feel
The bond of nature draw me to my own,
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine;
Our state cannot be severed; we are one,
One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself. (Paradise Lost, 9.952–59)

Milton’s picture is of a perverse fondness. This is plausible, as God does not just confront Adam about eating from the tree, but says, “Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten of the tree of which I commanded you . . .” (Genesis 3:17). The issue is not that he listened to what she said; the issue is that he preferred what she said to what he knew God had said. Her wish became his command. In that moment, when she nakedly offered him the fruit, he did not, as it were, hate his wife by refusing her. In his heart, her voice became a god’s.

A woman’s voice is powerful to a man. I have seen men double, triple in stature by their wife’s word, just as I have seen men shrink by half and run to ruin by heeding her voice. These latter once slew a thousand Philistines with a jawbone. I knew them long-haired, in the prime of their strength and power. But then they married (often ill-advisedly). The wayward wife made for a wayward husband — one flesh.

“We love her as she ought to be loved — we love her best — only when we love her as our wife and not our god.”

False teachers crept into homes through podcasts and feeds, capturing weak women first, and their deferential husbands next. Her social media posts foretold his theological compromise. Her response to tragedy infected his: “Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die” (Job 2:9). Instead of preferring God’s voice, replying that she speaks as one of the foolish women might, he listens. He considers. And soon, he chooses his rib over his soul. “If death consort with thee, death is to me as life,” I fear will be written upon their tombstones.

Toppling Kingdoms

Adam knelt to this distorted love for wife, but Solomon was ruined by it. Even though God’s law explicitly stated, “You shall not enter into marriage with them, neither shall they with you, for surely they will turn away your heart after their gods,” we read of the wisest of men,

Solomon clung to these in love. He had 700 wives, who were princesses, and 300 concubines. And his wives turned away his heart. For when Solomon was old his wives turned away his heart after other gods, and his heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father. (1 Kings 11:1–4)

Nehemiah — leveraging the sins of Solomon to confront husbands of his generation who married unbelieving women — struck fellow men over the issue. His public diary reads,

I confronted them and cursed them and beat some of them and pulled out their hair. And I made them take an oath in the name of God, saying, “You shall not give your daughters to their sons, or take their daughters for your sons or for yourselves. Did not Solomon king of Israel sin on account of such women? Among the many nations there was no king like him, and he was beloved by his God, and God made him king over all Israel. Nevertheless, foreign women made even him to sin.” (Nehemiah 13:25–26)

Idolatrous wives made even Solomon sin. He was beloved of God, he was given unmatched wisdom, he stood lofty in the annals of kingship, and yet even he was led into idolatry, first of these women, then of their gods. Is this not in Paul’s field of vision when he reiterates, “Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness?” (2 Corinthians 6:14)? None. And I have watched a man I discipled wander into the dark forest after her, never to return.

King over Crown

I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. (Luke 14:20)

The feast is ready; God now calls those formerly invited to come to his banquet. Yet in Jesus’s parable, “they all alike began to make excuses” (Luke 14:18). The first bought a field and needed to go see it. The second bought oxen and headed off to examine them. The third married a wife and thought to excuse himself. The master, incensed at their refusals, swore, “I tell you, none of those men who were invited shall taste my banquet” (Luke 14:24).

Some men will not be in the kingdom of God because they were too busy with their marriages. They had vacations to get to, dates to go on, sex to enjoy, dreams to accomplish. They would love to come to Christ, really, but you know . . . the marital life. Maybe next time. Notice that, in what follows, Jesus does not elaborate upon the land or the oxen but on the relationship.

Now great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and said to them, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:25–26)

God gave her to him that he would lead her to the banquet, and she would help his journey there, to go hand in hand to taste of real life together with the children God gave them. The Master, not she, must have preeminence. She did not create you. She did not die for you. She is not Lord of heaven and earth. She cannot raise the dead. She cannot pay for one sin or sustain your life one second. She does not give every grace, bestow every gift.

She is a gift from him. She was never created to bear that awful burden of love. We love her as she ought to be loved — we love her best — only when we love her as our wife and not our god.