To tell or not to tell, that was the question as I waited for Bill to return from running errands.

If I tell him about the concert, then he might want to go, I deliberated. Or worse, he’ll want me to go with him.

But I’ll feel bad if I don’t tell him and find out later that it's a band he likes, I added.

Knowing that Matthew 7:12 tells readers—myself included—to “do to others what you would have them do to you,” I set aside my urge to say nothing and shared this news with Bill when he walked through the door: “Someone in my cycling class mentioned that AC/DC is coming to the Allstate Arena in October.”

“You’re joking,” he said in disbelief.

“So you like them?”

“They’re one of my favorite bands of all time,” he announced.

A quick check online confirmed that the group was embarking on their first world tour in nearly eight years.

“Tickets went on sale this morning. Do you want to go with me?” Bill asked.

I could have said, “No.” I could have … but didn’t because 1 John 3:18 commands all of us to love, not with words, but “with actions and in truth.” My truth is that I love my husband more than I hate classic rock. My actions reflected this when I agreed to go with him to the concert.

“Really?” Bill said in disbelief.

“I sat through an American Idol concert for the girls and, if you want, I’ll go to AC/DC with you,” I confirmed.

I don’t know why Bill acted so surprised. I’ve done a lot of things that were out of character for me during our fifteen years of marriage. There were the NASCAR races that lulled me to sleep because I couldn’t figure out who was winning. The hours I stood behind Bill’s chair as he played blackjack in Las Vegas. And the movies that only a man could laugh at as the main characters showed an absurd amount of stupidity by failing repeatedly to learn from their mistakes.

Although I drew the line at Talladega Nights and Bad Santa, I sat through too many pointless plots to count because I loved, not the movie, but the person who took me to them.

I learned years ago from experts like Willard Harley, Jr. that men have a need for recreational companionship and wives put their marriage at risk when they allow someone else to fill the role. Harley wrote about this on page 82 of the book His Needs Her Needs when he said: “It is not uncommon for women, when they are single, to join men in pursuing their interests. They find themselves hunting, fishing, playing football, and watching movies they would never have chosen on their own.”

“After marriage wives often try to interest their husbands in activities more to their own liking. If their attempts fail,” the author added, “they may encourage their husbands to continue their recreational activities without them. I consider that option very dangerous to a marriage, because men place surprising importance on having their wives as recreational companions.”

Knowing the significance that men place on spending time together made me wonder: What would happen if we compared our plans, not to what our partner wants to do, but to how much our partner means to us? Would the divorce rate drop as we set aside our personal agenda for the sake of another person?

These questions led to another, less measurable one as I asked myself: What if God is a fan of recreational companionship, too?

Genesis 1:27 states that “God created man in his own image”. It stands to reason, then, that our feelings will at times be a reflection of our Creator’s. Knowing this leads me to conclude that God, like my husband, is touched when we do His will—not because we want to—but because we want to honor the One we’re doing it for.

If God is pleased when we follow His lead, then I’m guessing the opposite is true every time we disregard His divine plan because it messes up our own. That's what I did the first time someone from the Chicago office of Bill’s firm asked him to consider relocating to Illinois.

“With your largest client in Omaha, it doesn’t make sense to move,” I reasoned whenever my husband brought up the subject.

This worked for two years until Bill started taking on more clients in Illinois and traveling to the windy city on a regular basis. It was after one of his business trips that he dropped a hint of what was about to come: “Someone from the Chicago office asked me again about the move.”

Why do we do that? Why do we turn to God when we’re at the end, rather than the beginning, of our decision-making rope? Could it be that we're afraid to hear the answer?