Storms Outside. Joy Inside.

Twenty-seven years ago, on June 26, 1999, Sondra and I stood before God, our families, and our friends and promised each other forever.

It was a stormy day.

Sheets of rain fell from the sky. Thunder shook. Lightning flashed through the darkness. If you judged our wedding by the weather, you might have wondered whether it was an omen. In many ways, it was.

Not because our marriage would be dark or miserable, but because that day became a picture of the life we would build together.

Outside, there was every indication that the day would be gloomy. But inside, every room was filled with something entirely different. Family gathered. Friends laughed. There was joy, anticipation, celebration, and the quiet confidence that something beautiful was beginning. The weather outside never determined the atmosphere inside.

Looking back over twenty-seven years, I realize our marriage has followed much the same pattern.

Jesus promised His followers, "In this world you will have trouble." He never promised storm-free living, and He certainly didn't promise storm-free marriages. We've experienced disease, death, broken relationships, personal attacks, career disappointments, financial struggles, and seasons that tested us in ways we never anticipated. The storms have been real, and at times they've been fierce.

But by God's grace, the storms have mostly remained outside and inside our home, the overwhelming story has been one of joy.

God entrusted us with three incredible children, each one uniquely reflecting His creativity. Our Jaybird is now in Wichita Falls pursuing his dream of flying fighter jets. This year God expanded our family even more by giving us our wonderful daughter-in-law, Emma, and our first grandson, James Wade Hinton III. Watching Jay become a husband and now a father has been one of the greatest joys of our lives.

Josie is a sophomore at Ole Miss with aspirations of becoming a criminal prosecutor. She has always possessed a strong sense of justice, and it has been a joy watching that calling mature as she prepares for the future God has for her.

Then there's our thirteen-year-old caboose. Louie. He's an old soul with a perspective on life that keeps us laughing almost every day. He has a delightful way of seeing the world and has brought a unique joy to our family.

Together, our children have given us countless memories through ballgames, school programs, church events, recitals, family vacations, ordinary dinners around the table, and a thousand moments that didn't seem extraordinary at the time but have become some of our greatest treasures. We have been blessed to create them, raise them, and now begin launching them into the world like arrows from a quiver. And now, by God's grace, we get to watch another generation begin.

Through all of those years, our marriage has remained remarkably steady. It has required work, intentionality, humility, forgiveness, and constant adjustment, but it has never felt crushing. Christ's words about His yoke being easy and His burden being light have proven true in ways I never understood as a young husband. Marriage has not been effortless, but walking together has made even the heaviest seasons bearable.

Over the past few weeks, I've found myself asking a simple question: after twenty-seven years, who is this woman I married?

Peter instructs husbands to "live with your wives in an understanding way." I've spent nearly three decades trying to do just that. The funny thing is that while I know Sondra infinitely better than I did on our wedding day, she has somehow become infinitely more mysterious, more fascinating, and more alluring at the same time. The deeper I've gotten to know her, the more I realize there is still more to discover.

As I've tried to distill her into a single word, one keeps coming back to me.

Fierce.

At first glance, that word can sound harsh, but I mean it as one of the highest compliments I know how to give.

Sondra is fiercely loyal. Once you're hers, you're hers. She loves her family and friends with a steadfastness that refuses to let go.

She is fiercely determined. Obstacles don't discourage her. They become another challenge to overcome.

She is fiercely protective. She has spent twenty-seven years creating a home where our children have always known they were loved, defended, and believed in.

She is fiercely resilient. I've watched her endure heartache, disappointment, exhaustion, uncertainty, and loss without allowing those things to define her.

And yes, she is fiercely stubborn. Anyone who knows her will smile at that one. But I've come to realize that her stubbornness is conviction in action. It has anchored our family when circumstances tried to move us.

She is a powerful force of life.

When the storms have raged outside our walls, she has been one of the primary reasons there has continued to be laughter, peace, warmth, and hope inside them.

If I had to choose one person to stand beside while the wind howls, the thunder crashes, and the rain falls, I would choose her every single time.

Because that's what twenty-seven years have taught me.

The goal of life isn't to eliminate the storms. Jesus already told us they were coming.

The goal is to build something on the inside that the storms cannot reach.

Build a marriage where grace is abundant. Build a home where laughter is common. Build a family where Christ is the foundation beneath every decision and every season. Build relationships that become shelter for one another when life becomes difficult.

The rain will come. The thunder will roll. There will be seasons of darkness. But storms don't have to define the atmosphere of your home.

Twenty-seven years ago, we were married on one of the stormiest days I can remember.

Looking back now, I wouldn't change a thing.

The weather was telling the truth all along.

There would be storms outside.

But because Christ has been faithful, there has been joy inside.

Happy 27th Anniversary, Sondra.

Thank you for standing beside me through every storm, for building a home that has always been warmer than the weather outside, and for being exactly the kind of woman I would want with me when the skies grow dark.

I'd marry you all over again.