Dolapo’s father did not shout. That was what made it worse. He listened to her in silence in the sitting room of the family house in Abeokuta, his reading glasses folded in his hand, while she told him about the man she wanted to marry. Then he stood up, said, “That will not happen in this family,” and went to his room.
The man was Ifeanyichukwu. Everyone called him Ifeanyi. He was a pharmacist in Lagos, thoughtful and funny, serious about his faith, and he had been patiently courting Dolapo for almost two years. He was Igbo, from a village near Awka. He also attended a Pentecostal church, while Dolapo’s family had been Anglican for four generations. Her father was a lay reader. Her grandfather’s name was on a brass plaque in the cathedral.
Within a week, the whole extended family seemed to know. Aunties called every evening. One reminded her that “our people do not marry far.” Another said, “Those Pentecostal people will take you away from your church.” An uncle sent a long WhatsApp message about the war. Her mother cried and asked her to think of the family’s name.
Then came the heaviest blow. Her mother had taken the matter to a prophetess she trusted, a woman who led prayer meetings in their area. The prophetess sent word: she had seen in a vision that Dolapo’s husband was a Yoruba man from their own church, the son of a family friend whom the parents had long hoped she would marry. “If she goes against this,” the message ended, “she will not see good in that marriage.”
Ifeanyi’s side was not much easier. His mother had always assumed he would bring home a wife from their own place, who would speak Igbo to her grandchildren. His uncles asked whether a Yoruba girl would respect the family, and whether her people would treat him as a stranger.
When Dolapo came to see me, she was exhausted. “Pastor,” she said, “I want to honour my parents. I love them. But I am twenty-nine years old. Who is supposed to decide this?”
Counsel is a gift
It would be easy to tell a story like Dolapo’s as though her parents were simply the obstacle. That would be unfair, and it would also be unwise. Before we speak about pressure, we need to speak about counsel, because Scripture treats counsel as a precious gift:
Without counsel purposes are disappointed: but in the multitude of counsellors they are established.
“Without counsel purposes are disappointed.” Plans fall apart when they are made alone. “But in the multitude of counsellors they are established.” Plans are strengthened when they are tested by many wise minds. Proverbs says something similar elsewhere: “in the multitude of counsellors there is safety” (Proverbs 11:14).
Choosing a spouse is one of the most significant purposes of your life. It will shape your days, your home, your children, your finances, your health and your walk with God for decades. Of all the decisions you make, this is one you should not make alone.
Counsel helps you see what love sometimes hides. Your parents have known you since before you could speak. They know your weaknesses and your patterns. They may see things in a suitor that you have missed, because they are not looking through the eyes of romance. Older believers have watched many marriages, happy and unhappy, and they can often recognise early signs that younger people cannot. A good friend can say, “I have noticed something,” and save you years of pain.
So the first thing to say to anyone choosing a spouse is this: seek counsel, and listen to it seriously. Do not ask only the people you know will agree with you. Ask your parents, even if you are nervous. Ask your pastor. Ask a married couple you respect. Give them time to know the person you are considering. Then weigh what they say with an open heart.
If everyone who loves you and knows you well is seeing the same danger, you should take that extremely seriously. It is possible that they are all wrong. It is far more likely that they are seeing something you cannot yet see.
At the same time, it helps to recognise the difference between counsel and pressure, because the two can sound alike. Counsel gives reasons. It says, “This is what I see, and this is why it worries me.” It invites you to think, and it leaves room for you to answer. It respects the fact that you are an adult who must finally decide. Good counsel can be strong, even blunt, and still be counsel.
Pressure works differently. It relies less on reasons and more on weight. It threatens: “If you marry him, do not come back to this house.” It withdraws love or money until you comply. It recruits a crowd of relatives to repeat the same message every evening. It uses shame: “What will people say?” It uses spiritual fear: “You will never see good.” Its aim is to make the cost of disagreeing so painful that you give in, whether or not you are persuaded.
The difference matters, because the right response is different. Counsel should be weighed carefully, even when it is unwelcome. Pressure should be answered with patience and respect, but it should not be allowed to make the decision for you. Often the same family offers both, and part of maturity is learning to receive the counsel while gently declining the pressure.
Honouring father and mother as an adult
The command to honour your parents stands at the heart of God’s law: “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee” (Exodus 20:12). Paul repeats it to Christian children in Ephesus and notes that it is “the first commandment with promise” (Ephesians 6:2). Proverbs adds a beautiful picture:
My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother: For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck.
A parent’s instruction is “an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck.” In the ancient world, a chain around the neck was a sign of honour and beauty. Wise parental guidance adorns a life.
Honour is a lifelong duty. It does not end when you turn eighteen, get a job or move to Lagos. But the form honour takes changes as you grow. A young child honours parents largely through obedience. An adult honours them through respect, gratitude, care, consultation and a willingness to listen. Scripture also tells us that marriage involves a leaving: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife” (Genesis 2:24). The new household is formed under God, with its own responsibility before Him.
In Nigerian culture, marriage joins two families as well as two individuals, and there is real wisdom in that. Our customs of introduction, family visits, bride price and blessing remind us that a marriage does not exist in a vacuum. Parents and elders are meant to be involved. A believer who treats their parents’ views with contempt, who refuses to visit or consult them, or who marries in secret to avoid them, is not honouring them, whatever their reasons.
But honour does not mean handing over your conscience. Interestingly, even in a culture where marriages were largely arranged by families, Scripture records a moment when the bride herself was asked. Abraham’s servant had come to find a wife for Isaac, and Rebekah’s family had agreed. Then:
And they said, We will call the damsel, and enquire at her mouth. And they called Rebekah, and said unto her, Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will go.
The context makes this all the more striking. Abraham’s servant had prayed for guidance, and God had answered in remarkable detail. Rebekah’s brother Laban and father Bethuel were so convinced that they said, “The thing proceedeth from the LORD: we cannot speak unto thee bad or good” (Genesis 24:50). Here was a family certain that God was in the matter. Yet when the time came to leave, they did not simply send her. “We will call the damsel, and enquire at her mouth.” Her family did not decide for her. They asked her directly, “Wilt thou go with this man?” And she answered for herself: “I will go.” Even in that ancient world, her consent mattered. She had to make the journey. She had to live the marriage. So she was asked.
That is the balance we are looking for. Parents counsel, bless, warn and help. The adult child listens, weighs, honours and decides. Honour and personal responsibility belong together.
Only in the Lord
Paul gives one of the clearest statements in the New Testament about the freedom of choosing a spouse:
The wife is bound by the law as long as her husband liveth; but if her husband be dead, she is at liberty to be married to whom she will; only in the Lord.
The immediate context is a widow, a woman whose husband has died. Paul says that she “is at liberty to be married to whom she will.” That is a striking freedom in a world where women’s choices were often limited. The choice is hers.
But Paul adds one condition: “only in the Lord.” A believer should marry a fellow believer. Paul says the same elsewhere: “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers” (2 Corinthians 6:14). The image is of two animals of different kinds harnessed together to pull a plough. They cannot walk in step. Marriage between a believer and an unbeliever puts two people with different masters into a single yoke.
Notice how much freedom Paul leaves within that one boundary. He does not say “only to a person of your tribe,” “only within your denomination,” “only to the one your parents choose,” or “only to the one a prophet names.” He says “only in the Lord.” Within that boundary, the believer has genuine liberty, to be exercised with wisdom and counsel.
This is important for Dolapo’s story. Ifeanyi was a committed believer. He loved Christ, served in his church and lived with integrity. Whatever else might be said, he was clearly “in the Lord.” Being “in the Lord” is something you can see, not merely a label someone wears. It shows in a person’s love for Christ and His Word, in honesty, in how they treat people with less power than themselves, in their willingness to be corrected, and in a life joined to a local church. Ask about those things, and let your counsellors ask too. A suitor who calls himself a Christian but shows none of this fruit has not met Paul’s condition, whatever his tribe or denomination.
PunchlineIn Ifeanyi’s case, the evidence was plain. The objections being raised against him were not about whether he belonged to Christ.
Every one of us shall give account
Paul wrote Romans 14 to a church divided over disputed practices: which foods to eat, which days to observe. Some believers were judging others. Paul tells them to stop, because each person stands before God for their own life:
So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God.
Just before this, Paul has asked, “why dost thou judge thy brother? or why dost thou set at nought thy brother? for we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ” (Romans 14:10). Each believer belongs to the Lord, lives to the Lord and will answer to the Lord. Others may advise, and others may disagree, but no one can stand in another person’s place before Christ. “Every one of us shall give account of himself to God.” The context concerns matters of conscience such as food and holy days, and Paul is not writing about marriage. But the principle is far-reaching. On the last day, you will not stand before God with your father, your aunties or your pastor beside you to answer for your choices. You will give account of yourself.
That cuts in two directions. First, it means nobody else can carry the responsibility for whom you marry. Your parents cannot. Your pastor cannot. A prophet cannot. If you marry someone only because others pressured you, you will still be the one living in that marriage, and you will still give account for the vows you made. Marriage should never become an obligation imposed on you by somebody else’s certainty.
Second, it means you cannot hide behind others either. Some people would actually prefer someone else to choose for them. If the marriage goes well, good. If it goes badly, they can say, “It was my parents’ choice,” or “The man of God told me.” That is a way of avoiding responsibility. God does not accept it. You are an adult, made in His image, and you will answer for what you decide. So decide carefully, prayerfully and with counsel, and then own your decision.
Counsel can help you see a relationship more clearly, but the responsibility of choosing remains yours. You will give account of yourself to God, and no one else’s certainty can carry that weight for you.
When the objection is tribe
Let me speak carefully about one of the most common objections in Nigerian families: ethnicity.
Many parents have real fears behind their objections, and those fears deserve a respectful hearing. Cultural differences are real. Language, food, customs around childbirth and burial, expectations about extended family, inheritance practices and widowhood rites can differ greatly between ethnic groups. Some families carry painful memories, from the civil war or from relatives who married across ethnic lines and were badly treated by in-laws. A wise couple does not dismiss these concerns. They talk about them openly. Where will we live? Which languages will our children speak? How will each of our families’ customs be handled? If one of us dies, how will the other be protected?
But we must also be honest: some objections are not about wisdom at all. They are about prejudice. The idea that a whole people group is untrustworthy, greedy, proud or inferior is a sin that the gospel confronts directly, however respectable the person who repeats it. Paul told the philosophers of Athens:
And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation.
God “hath made of one blood all nations of men.” Every ethnic group comes from the same source and bears the same image. In Christ, the old divisions lose their power to define us: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). That does not erase culture, which is part of the beauty of God’s creation. But it does mean that ethnicity alone can never be a biblical reason to forbid a marriage between two believers.
So if your family objects on grounds of tribe, listen for the fear underneath. Answer the fear patiently, with facts and with your own conduct. And at the same time, refuse to adopt the prejudice yourself.
When the objection is denomination
A second common objection concerns church background. Anglican and Pentecostal, Catholic and Baptist, Methodist and Deeper Life, Redeemed and Winners: our families often attach great importance to these labels, and sometimes rivalries run deep.
Here it helps to make a clear distinction. Being “in the Lord” is about faith in Jesus Christ, not membership of a particular denomination. Paul’s command about an unequal yoke concerns believers and unbelievers, not Christians from different church traditions. Two people who both trust Christ, confess the gospel and seek to follow Him are spiritually yoked together, even if they were raised in different churches.
That does not mean denominational differences are trivial. Some of them touch matters a couple will live with every week. Which church will you attend together? How will you pray at home? What do you each believe about baptism, the gifts of the Spirit, giving and church discipline? Will your children be dedicated or baptised as infants? How will your families feel about it? These questions need honest conversation before the wedding, and a couple should agree on them, not merely hope they will work out.
Sometimes, too, a denominational objection is really about something else: a fear that a daughter will be “taken away” from her family, a fear of losing influence, or a suspicion of churches that are unfamiliar. Again, listen for the fear underneath, and answer it with patience and humility.
When someone else claims to have seen your spouse
NuggetMany Nigerian believers have experienced something like Dolapo’s prophetess. A pastor, prophet or prayer leader declares that God has shown them whom you should marry, or whom you should not.
I believe God speaks today, and that He can and does guide His people through others. But Scripture is clear that prophecy must be tested:
Quench not the Spirit. Despise not prophesyings. Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.
“Despise not prophesyings. Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.” Prophecy is to be received with respect, and also proved. Every word must be weighed, against Scripture and tested by its fruit.
When a “word” about marriage comes, several tests apply. Is it consistent with Scripture? Does it respect your freedom to marry “whom you will, only in the Lord”? Does it confirm what God is already showing you, or does it try to override your own conscience? Is it delivered with humility, or with threats? A word that says, “If you do not obey, you will die,” or “You will never see good,” is using fear to control, and that is not the way the Holy Spirit leads God’s children. Scripture says of the presumptuous prophet, “thou shalt not be afraid of him” (Deuteronomy 18:22).
No prophecy can replace your own consent. No word from another person should push you into a marriage you do not want, or forbid a godly marriage to which God has given you peace. Ministers who handle marriage this way must remember that they too will give account.
Living with pressure without losing honour
So what do you do when family pressure continues, even after you have listened, weighed and prayed?
First, slow down. Pressure tempts us to react, either by giving in or by rushing ahead in defiance. Neither is wise. Time allows emotions to cool, allows families to get to know the person, and allows you to confirm your own convictions.
Second, keep honouring. Continue to visit, to greet, to call. Speak respectfully even when you are spoken to unkindly. Do not elope. Do not cut your family off. Do not post your frustrations on social media. Honour is proved most clearly when they do not agree with you.
Third, invite mediators. In our culture, much can be done through respected elders, pastors, family friends or an uncle who has your parents’ ear. Sometimes a father who will not listen to his daughter will listen to his own brother or his own pastor.
It is worth adding that pressure is sometimes financial. A family may threaten to withdraw support, or demand a suitor of a certain income, or set the bride price and wedding expectations so high that a godly but ordinary man can never meet them. Parents are right to want their child to be provided for, and a man should be able to show that he can work and carry responsibility. But wealth is not the same as character, and a marriage that begins with a family’s financial demands as its main test has its priorities in the wrong order.
Fourth, let the suitor show his character. A man who responds to rejection with humility, patience and repeated respectful visits often wins over a family in time. A man who responds with anger, insults or ultimatums may be showing why the family had concerns.
Fifth, decide before God. In the end, if you have sought counsel honestly, if the person is clearly in the Lord, if there are no serious warning signs, and if you have peace before God after long prayer, you may need to proceed even without full family agreement. That is a grave step, and it should not be taken quickly. But “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29), and your conscience before God must finally be your own.
A word to parents, too. Your counsel is a gift. Give it freely, honestly and lovingly. But remember that your adult children belong first to God. If you push a child into a marriage they do not want, or forbid a godly one out of prejudice or pride, you are taking a responsibility God has not given you. Speak your concerns. Pray. Then trust God with the child He entrusted to you.
Dolapo and Ifeanyi did not marry that year.
On my counsel, they slowed down. Ifeanyi visited Abeokuta four times in eight months, accompanied by his uncle, a retired headmaster with excellent manners. Dolapo’s father refused to see them the first two times. On the third visit he came out to greet them but said little. On the fourth, he asked Ifeanyi to stay for lunch.
Slowly, the real story came out. Dolapo’s father had an older sister who had married outside the family’s ethnic group forty years earlier. When her husband died, his relatives had taken the house and the children’s inheritance, and she had come home with nothing. Her brother had never forgotten it. His objection was not mainly prejudice. It was grief, and fear for his daughter.
Ifeanyi listened. He did not argue. He told Dolapo’s father that he had already drawn up a will, and he promised that his wife would be protected in law and in custom. His own mother travelled to Abeokuta and sat with Dolapo’s mother for an afternoon. The two women discovered they had much in common, including a shared love of the same old hymns. In Awka, meanwhile, Dolapo had been quietly learning Igbo greetings from a colleague, and the first time she knelt to greet Ifeanyi’s mother in her own language, the older woman laughed out loud and pulled her into a hug.
PunchlineThe prophetess’s word was quietly set aside. Dolapo’s mother told her later, “I was afraid, so I went looking for someone to agree with my fear.”
They married fourteen months after that first conversation in the sitting room. Dolapo’s father walked her down the aisle of the Anglican cathedral, past the brass plaque with his own father’s name. At the reception he gave a short speech. “I did not choose this man,” he said. “My daughter chose him. But I have come to know him, and I am proud to call him my son.”
Dolapo told me afterwards that the waiting had been the hardest year of her life. “But I am glad we did it this way,” she said. “I made my own choice, and I will answer to God for it. But I did not have to lose my father to make it.”
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Whose counsel do you most need to seek, or listen to more seriously, as you think about marriage?
- How do you distinguish between honouring your parents and surrendering your conscience to them?
- What does “only in the Lord” free you from, and what does it require of you?
- If your family has raised ethnic or denominational objections, what fears might lie underneath them? How might you respond to those fears with patience?
- How do you test a prophetic word or strong opinion about your marriage? Are there ways in which you have been tempted to let someone else carry responsibility for your choice?
This Week
This week, ask one parent, one mature believer and one married couple you respect for honest counsel about your relationship or your hopes for marriage. Ask them, “What do you see that I might be missing?” Listen without defending yourself, and write down what they say. Then spend time alone with God, bringing their counsel to Him, and ask Him to help you weigh it honestly, to honour those who gave it, and to own your decision before Him.
A Prayer
Father, thank You for the gift of parents, pastors and friends who care about my future. Give me a humble heart to seek and hear their counsel. Help me to honour my father and mother in word, deed and attitude, even when we disagree. Free me from fear, prejudice and the pressure of other people’s certainty. Teach me to test every word by Your Word, and give me Your peace as I decide. I know that I will give account of myself to You, so make me wise, patient and faithful. Let my marriage, if You give it, be only in the Lord and for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.