Honey I Shrunk the Id

They used to drum it into Psych students as a foundational truth – Freud’s Structural Hypothesis, the theory that our minds are composed of a triune entity called Id, Ego and Super-Ego.

The Id represents a cesspool of aggressions and desires lurking just beneath our consciousness; a swamp creature that, left unrestrained, would morph us into pure animals. The Ego is pragmatic in contrast, moderating our decisions and behavior based on what’s feasible and realistic, whereas our Super-Ego, idealistic and noble, contains our highest principles. This three-fold mental structure, according to psychoanalysis, accounts for much of our thought and activity.

I’m not convinced, never have been, at least not of the total package Freud proposed. But the Id sure makes sense to me, as one who believes in the fallen nature of man, or The Flesh as St. Paul was wont to put it. That sucker exists, whatever name we apply to it, and I can’t think of any one place it manifests more clearly than in marriage. It’s not shy about showing its ugly face in all aspects of life, sure, but I find the marital bond is especially good at bringing it out of
the shadows.

Case in point: I considered myself a very nice guy when I married Renee twenty seven years ago. And if I say so myself, I think most people would have agreed. My reputation was that of a mellow, friendly man, stable and humorous, never given to outbursts. But then again, it had been decades since my niceness had been tested by a constant live-in companion’s needs and unique quirks. Suddenly, three months into married life, the every-gentlemanly Joe was throwing coffee cups into the wall, smashing phones down on the counter, storming out in the middle of the night and generally perfecting the art of the male tantrum.

“The woman who You gave me,” Adam answered when asked about his own sin, and while I understand he was making excuses, I also understand how easy it is to point at your mate when your Id makes an appearance. It’s not that marriage causes you to sin; it just makes it that much easier. Suddenly someone knows you too well, has gotten too close, means too much. That’s what you wanted, after all, but who really knows what issues will emerge from your inner swamp once you’re hitched? Intimacy, wonderful and critical as it is, also evokes unfinished business and countless defenses that have made their home in the crevices of your soul.

All of which our wise Heavenly Father knows when He matches us up. The wonder of marriage is the bond; the character building value of it is the discipline. So Renee rightfully expects me to resist my fleshly urge to bail when it’s tough, or to lash out when I’m hurt, because we’re in a covenant with eternal ramifications, one that our Father arranged with a full knowledge of the way our strengths, weaknesses and even our Ids would compliment each other. I am stronger for that, better at life and as a man. I’m not called to get rid of the Id, an impossibility, but to crucify it and shrink its influence.

There’ll always be traces of a controlling, spoiled, noisy kid somewhere in this carcass, and neither God nor spouse begrudge me that fact. But both expect me to resist when resistance is called for, and invest where investment is required. That’s we move beyond, without completely shedding, the influence of the sin nature.

And the beloved who we cling to night after night is exquisitely designed for that.