Prima Verba – Part 9

I’ve never been a fan of the Grateful Dead. Neither their music nor their message ever resonated with me. That said, in 1987, they released the song Touch of Grey, and it has a line in it that does resonate with me:

Every silver lining’s got a touch of grey

This, of course, is a twist on an old adage: every cloud has a silver lining. The idea being that even in the darkest of times, there is some good that can be found in the midst of it, however small—even if it’s just a thin silver lining.

But this line from the Grateful Dead seems to turn that adage on its head. It gives priority of place to the silver lining, not the cloud, such that all that is not the silver lining amounts to merely a touch of grey.

I like that.

Specifically, I like it for this post.

You see, it would be easy for me to think of the events of 2020 through 2024—especially the second and third waves—as dark, ominous clouds hanging over my life. And it would be easy for me to think about the topic I’m addressing here as a silver lining that, though present, was barely visible at the time. But that would get things exactly backwards.

Because, as it turned out, the silver lining was the main thing.

And what was the silver lining? Simply put, it was my marriage.

Now, our marriage wasn’t in trouble. We weren’t in danger of running aground on jagged rocks or anything like that. But the strain that pastoral ministry can put on a marriage is real. And if you’re not proactive, having children in the home can turn a husband and wife into something more akin to roommates. And our marriage wasn’t immune to these things.

But the grief that Cami and I felt over the deaths in the church and the deaths of her parents was a shared grief. It was a grief that united us. For example, we spent Memorial Day together in 2021, visiting all the church members who had become widows and widowers over the last year.

And after her dad died later that year and Cami’s guardianship of her sister began to complicate our lives, we spent many more hours together each week than we had previously—learning together, solving problems together, and just coping together. It was hard. It was stressful. But we were together.

During this time, we talked more together, we prayed more together, we went on more walks together… We looked for reasons and ways to just be together. We spent far more time together than we had in years. Naturally, we grew closer together in all this. Much closer. That’s the way of things.

Through the clouds of life, we gained a greater realization of how, in marriage, God had made us each other’s silver lining. And we found that the silver lining outshone the clouds. The clouds were still clouds, mind you. And they were difficult. But God was using them to refine us and grow us—individually and as a couple.

I’m reminded of the image of the refiner’s fire. It’s a purifying fire, burning away the dross and leaving behind only the shining silver and gold. God uses suffering this way in our lives. But fire doesn’t just purify metal, it also softens it. Thus, the fire that makes us more holy also makes us more malleable. It makes us more docile. It makes us better able to be shaped and formed by the hand and hammer of the Master Smith.

This is what God was lovingly doing to us, and for us, through all the crashing waves and ominous clouds of those five long years. As St. Paul writes, “More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3–5)

So now, I look back on those clouds and waves with thankfulness for how God used that suffering to produce good in my life, in Cami’s life, and in our marriage. Neither of us has ever felt closer to the Lord, or to each other. And I think we’re each a little closer to understanding what Paul meant when, three chapters later, he wrote, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (8:18)

By God’s grace, I’m learning not to despise the clouds of life, but to allow them to direct my praise and thanksgiving to the Lord for the silver linings he graciously gives us.

And I’m learning that the silver linings of life are actually the main thing. After all, when we’re walking with the Lord, everything else is just a touch of grey.

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As always, thank you for your continued interest and support. As this one goes live, tomorrow (November 27, 2025) is Thanksgiving Day in America. So, I wish all of you, and all of yours, a very Happy Thanksgiving! And if you’re reading this at some later date, know that I wish you all the best as well!

May the Lord bless and keep you all.

Gloria in excelsis Deo

Aaron