This Is Not Mine to Carry, Non-Fiction by LaVerne Vest

Marriage does not deputize a spouse to carry another adult’s sin, addiction, or dysfunction.

And yet, for years, that’s exactly what it felt like I was supposed to do.

My husband could be thoughtful, funny, and apologetic. And those glimpses of fun and kindness kept me tethered, hoping, praying, believing that the next day would be different. I believed deliverance and a miracle were around the corner. But the pattern always returned: disregard, deflect, minimize. I watched my husband struggle with a pornography addiction I could not fix and wrestle with behaviors he refused to own. Accountability felt like an attack to him. Correction was an assault. And the cycle repeated, again and again.

Meanwhile, the Church leaned in but not to him. They leaned on me. “Pray harder. Forgive more. Have more sex. Examine your heart.” Over and over, the questions landed on me:

• “How did you contribute to this?”

• “Were you meeting his needs?”

• “Have you examined your own heart?”

• “What could you have done differently?”

I examined my heart endlessly. I bent myself into prayer and attended his counseling sessions. I carved out grace in the corners of exhaustion. I tried to find God in the silence between his confessions and my tears. And still, the weight of his unaccountability pressed down like a quiet storm, relentless and invisible to most around us.

Sitting with women in similar situations, I have found that accountability disappears from the offender and quietly migrates onto the faithful spouse like an unpaid bill slipped across the table. And the one holding the bill is already carrying more than anyone sees.

I learned that the good moments – the humor, the apologies, and the gestures of kindness – are what keep many women stuck. They make you question your own judgment or your own perception of reality. They are the soft cords that tie you to a system that is unbalanced and unfair. That intermittent reinforcement is neurologically powerful.

When a man who has betrayed you makes you laugh, your body exhales. For a second, there is relief, and that relief is intoxicating. Your brain releases dopamine in unpredictable bursts because the affection is inconsistent. And unpredictable rewards wire attachment deeper than consistent ones.

It is the same mechanism that keeps people pulling slot machines.

But there is a line. A sacred boundary. A limit to what is yours to carry. And saying, “No more!” does not make you bitter or proud… it makes you human.

We have asked women to be shock absorbers for male dysfunction, spiritual caretakers for unrepentant adults, and emotional first responders with no backup. And we’ve called it faith.

That type of “faith” enables the guilty and burdens the already wounded. It cloaks enabling in piety. It dresses silence in righteousness. It teaches endurance as sanctity, while the offender continues to walk freely, unexamined and unbothered.

I have held women in my arms who did everything “right.” They prayed. They forgave. They counseled. They loved deeply. And still, the message from the Church was clear: perhaps the failure is hers.

I remember being on the phone, and hearing again: “Have you considered your part? What do you own in this?” My spine stiffened. I wanted to scream: My part? My part is not his! This is no longer a marriage issue, but an individual issue. But I said nothing, because I realized it is hard for people to understand that marriage problems are mutual, but addiction and adultery are individual. That day, though, I decided: I will not carry what is not mine.

This is the gap I want to name – the space between what the Church preaches and what it enforces. Between theology and lived experience. Between ideals of grace and the reality of accountability. The Church teaches about love, forgiveness, and endurance, but too often it refuses to confront patterns in, dare I say it, men: the deflection, the denial, and the minimizing of harm.

A woman should not carry the weight of conducting a forensic investigation of her own body, tone, libido, and quiet time with God, while a man is allowed to perform roles or present an appearance of faith, avoiding real accountability and sidestepping the Matthew 18 approach meant to guide reconciliation.

This is not about blaming men. It is about naming a system in the Church that allows patterns to persist while women are expected to manage the fallout. If a system requires a woman to doubt her sanity in order to preserve it, that system is already unbalanced. Faith cannot thrive when performance becomes substitutionary for honesty and responsibility.

I have walked through this tension with countless women, and I have walked it myself. Each story echoes the same refrain: we are exhausted, unseen, and endlessly expected to forgive while the offender is never called to sustained accountability.

And yet, even in the chaos, God is present – not as a fairy-tale rescuer, but as a quiet witness in journals full of grief and hope, in the counsel of wise friends, and in the sacred moments of prayer that are about being seen, not fixing anyone else.

I learned that accountability is not optional. It cannot fall solely on the shoulders of the faithful while the guilty walk free. The Church must name the pattern and call it by name, regardless of gender. When anyone deflects, denies, or minimizes harm, we are seeing image management not transformation. We are not witnessing repentance but resistance to it.

We have asked women to endure and turn the other cheek. We have asked them to forgive, never bring it up, heal, and carry on, without scaffolding. And we have called this faith.

Real faith is not a weapon. Real faith does not demand endurance and silence as a measure of holiness. Real faith does not excuse the avoidance of responsibility.

This isn’t rebellion against marriage. I love marriage and partnership – this is in reverence to the covenant of it. Marriage deserves truth and sobriety. Marriage deserves repentance that produces fruit.

When we normalize apologies without change, humor without honesty, and church attendance without integrity, we cheapen the covenant. Calling this out is not anti-marriage. This is pro-holiness.

To the Church: how many women are asked to carry the debt of another’s sin while the offender experiences no meaningful reckoning? How many messages of “prayer and patience” obscure systemic avoidance of accountability? Faith cannot thrive in that imbalance.

True discipleship requires more than emotional apologies and polished language. It requires submission to process, community visibility, correction, and measurable steps toward integrity. The church must become a place where we celebrate fruit, not fluency. We patiently watch for alignment between words and patterns. Because behavior is a language, and when it contradicts the script, it reveals the truth.

Someone can speak fluent repentance and still be illiterate in obedience, because words are easy to curate; behavior is harder to fake. When confession is not followed by consistent change, accountability, and fruit over time, it is not transformation. It is reputation management in church clothes.

To women who read this: your endurance is not the measure of your holiness. Your shoulder is not the default landing spot for someone else’s sin. Your voice, your limits, and your dignity matter. And you have permission to claim them.

True faith asks all of us to show up fully, not just perform. Too often, men pretend – or hide behind appearances – and the Church quietly allows it while expecting a wife to manage the integrity of her husband. This is not a condemnation of men, but a call to integrity, accountability, and courage for the whole Body.

To those who doubt the weight of this reality: imagine carrying a mountain every day, being told it is your mountain because faith requires it, while the one who caused it walks free, untouched, and unexamined.

This is the gap we must name. This is the divide we must bridge.

I write not to accuse or condemn, but to witness and name the reality of so many women in the Church. Let’s awaken the Church to the work it refuses to do: calling every person, not just the wounded, to their part in justice, accountability, and faithfulness. Healing should never require a denial of reality.

This is not about division but about discipleship.

Because love, real love, never asks anyone to carry what is not theirs. Jesus has already been there and done that – He carried the weight of the world so we could carry only what He calls us to.

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LaVerne Vest is a ministry leader, mentor, and writer dedicated to empowering women across generations to embrace their identity, faith, and voice. She is founder of Free to be Real, a multi-generational ministry focused on storytelling, worship, and discipleship, providing safe spaces for women navigating life’s challenges. LaVerne blends personal experience with biblical truth, helping women and teens reclaim their story and walk in freedom. She is a wife, mom, and author who resides in Southwest Louisiana. Her greatest adventure is life with her three boys.