When Marriage Is All About Me
- Dawna Peterson
- Sep 27
- 3 min read
Updated: Sep 29
Pride is not what you think it is. It's not confidence, success, or healthy self-respect. In Christian theology, pride is something far more dangerous—it's self-indulgence that becomes the defining characteristic of your entire life. G.K. Chesterton called it "the sin that denies sin" because proud people see their selfishness as completely reasonable, even virtuous.
The rich man in this Sunday's Gospel exhibits just such pride. St. Augustine wrote that "it was humility which was honored in that poor man [Lazarus] and pride which was punished in the rich man.” The rich man takes his privilege so much for granted that even in the afterlife he believes Lazarus should be sent to serve him.
Dawna witnessed this kind of pride unfold in her office many years ago during what should have been a routine divorce mediation.
Brenda entered first, her gait unsteady, hands trembling from Multiple Sclerosis. She'd told Dawna during her intake interview that she hadn't left her house in weeks, embarrassed that strangers might think she was drunk. Conrad followed at a distance, chose a seat across the room from his wife, and immediately announced he had to leave within the hour. The message was clear: he was in control.
Their story began like many others—mutual friends, shared church, budding romance. "She was beautiful back then," Conrad reminisced. "She dressed really sharp. Her hair was done up like a movie star. It made me proud when I was with her."
But pride is a fair-weather friend.
"Not like now," he continued harshly. "Now she never leaves the house. She's always depressed and it shows in the way she's let herself go."
When I pointed out that MS patients need family support and patience, Conrad's response chilled me: "I've been patient. Now I'm done. I'm in love with somebody else now, who can do a better job as a wife. I have to do what's best for me."
His words echoed Charlie Sheen's infamous declaration about one of his divorces: "You buy a car, it breaks down, what are you gonna do?"
Brenda's response was bitter. "Conrad always saw our family as an extension of himself," she said quietly. "If we looked good, he looked good."
The pattern became clear as they discussed their five children and parenting roles. Conrad had enjoyed the idea of being a father—the provider with the attractive wife, well-behaved kids, and perfect house. But when her MS required him to serve rather than be served, when his wife needed him instead of being there for him, he calculated his exit strategy with stunning coldness.
Even in divorce, his pride orchestrated the outcome. Because of her declining health, he'd take their youngest son, while she could "keep the girls" who were "closer to her anyway" and could help her out. Strategic. Calculated. Seemingly generous while ultimately self-serving.
This is how pride operates in marriage. It makes one spouse the center of everything, viewing their partner as an accessory to their success rather than a person deserving love and commitment. Pride poisons love because it makes the self—not the other—the measure of what's good.
The proud deceive themselves, ignoring realities that less self-centered people quickly recognize. They inflate their own importance while diminishing their spouse's worth, especially when circumstances demand sacrifice rather than reward.
Pride isn't just a character flaw—it's a relationship destroyer that masquerades as reasonable self-interest. And until we recognize it for what it truly is, it will continue poisoning the very love it claims to protect.
This post was redacted from our book, Climbing the Seven Story Mountain. Click here to read the entire chapter.
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