Anchored #1: From Search Bar to Sacred Vows

The Questions Every Newlywed Asks

Rochelle and I have been married for twenty-seven years. In that time we’ve had a front-row seat to the early days of marriage for hundreds of couples. I’ve walked with them in church hallways, on retreat porches, in living rooms where the coffee’s gone cold and the story’s just getting good. And what I’ve noticed—alongside Rochelle’s compassionate eye as a former therapist—is that the first years of marriage are anything but simple. They’re beautiful and messy, full of promise and anxiety, not unlike learning a new language together while the dictionary keeps changing.

When we first got married, we thought we knew what was ahead. We watched other couples, read the books, went to conferences, and had great mentors. But there’s something no class can teach you—the lived reality of two lives coming together, day after day. Back then, we couldn’t Google our way through uncertainty; now couples can (and do), and it’s fascinating (and sometimes funny!) what newlyweds are searching for online. Their questions tell an honest story: Where do we even start?

The first big search? How on earth do we cook together? Sounds small, I know, but it’s huge. Recipes, meal plans, questions about that magic air fryer—these aren’t just practical asks. They’re about “how do we nourish each other and build routines we can call our own?” Back in our first apartment, Rochelle and I would improvise dinner out of what was left in the fridge and talk about our day. Those moments set the tone for the kind of life we’d build: improvised, yes, but always together in the kitchen, learning how to feed both body and soul.

Communication quickly comes next in the search bar, and it makes perfect sense. Newlyweds are asking, “How do I talk so my spouse will hear me?” or “Why do we keep misunderstanding?” There’s a deep need to be known and, just as urgently, not to mess things up with words unsaid. Rochelle always says the hardest part for couples isn’t always what’s said, but what’s kept silent—those unspoken fears and unheard souls. And in the gospel story, what we see over and over is a God who listens, whose Word became flesh so we could learn to speak and to be heard. The grace here is that even the rough conversations can be holy ground; that when we risk honesty, we make room for redemption.

Finances are third, and the questions get real: “Should we combine accounts?” “How do we avoid fights about money?” Here’s the secret—money talks are never just about money. They’re about trust, security, and the values scribbled in our bones from childhood. Early on, Rochelle and I realized we had wildly different approaches to saving and spending. We had to learn—sometimes painfully—that our marriage would need new blueprints, ones we could sketch together, knowing full well that God’s provision is both a practical and a spiritual gift.

Then there’s the search about time. “How do we make time for each other?” Or the late-night plea, “How do we keep from drifting apart?” Real talk: life gets busy fast. Work schedules, chores, family events pile up. Rochelle and I learned early that if you don’t carve out intentional moments together—even just a walk around the block—you end up as roommates instead of spouses. The gospel speaks to this too; we serve a God who entered our time and makes every moment sacred, reminding us that love grows in hours both ordinary and special. Quality time isn’t about perfection, but about being present—showing up for each other, even in the middle of exhaustion.

And then there’s the search that almost breaks your heart: “How do we heal from past hurts?” Every couple brings some kind of baggage—old wounds, family drama, even scars from previous relationships. Early on, we discovered that loving each other didn’t erase our histories. There were hard conversations, apologies, moments when we wondered if grace could stretch far enough. But in the gospel, that’s exactly what Jesus promises—to bind up what’s broken, to forgive, and to make us new. Marriage is a place where redemption plays out in real time, with all its bumps and second chances.

Here’s what I hope every newlywed takes away: it’s okay to search for answers. It’s okay not to know. The searching itself is holy—because it means you care enough to grow, to fix what’s hard, to chase after a marriage anchored in hope. Rochelle and I are still searching, still learning. We just do it together. All those early Google questions—about food, words, money, time, and forgiveness—hold gospel implications. They point past quick fixes to a deeper truth: that marriage, at its core, is about grace. It’s about admitting what you don’t know, forgiving what you can’t forget, and trusting that the God who joined you is bigger than any question, any doubt, any hurt.

So keep asking—whether on a search engine, to a mentor, or out loud to God. Every question can bring you closer: to each other, and to the One who makes all things new.

How about you? What were your biggest challenges in the early days of your marriage?