Immorality has toppled more than a few giants in the Old Testament. It shows up early—Lamech in Genesis chapter five boasted about his sin and took multiple wives. Noah’s son Ham disrespected his father and exposed family shame. Abraham lied about Sarah and nearly handed her over to a king—twice. Jacob had more romantic complications than a daytime soap opera, and his sons followed in his footsteps. David, a man after God’s own heart, fell hard into adultery with Bathsheba and tried to cover it with murder. Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, became the saddest warning in Scripture because his heart was stolen by foreign wives who led him into idolatry. Moses warned Israel over and over not to intermarry with pagan nations because such unions would lead them to abandon God. Yet Israel ignored the warning repeatedly. Even after seventy years of discipline in Babylon, the remnant returned to Jerusalem and repeated the same mistake. The book of Ezra ends not with a revival celebration, but with a list—a long, uncomfortable list—of men who married pagan women. These marriages brought idols into their homes, divided their loyalties, and threatened their spiritual identity. Their solution? Radical separation. They believed the only way to restore holiness was to put away their unbelieving spouses.

In my fifty years of ministry, I have met couples who came to this text like miners searching for gold—except they were not searching for gold, they were searching for an exit strategy. “We should never have married in the first place,” they say. “God wants me to divorce because this marriage is spiritually dangerous.” Believe it or not, I have heard that argument more than once. Some insist their unbelieving spouse is polluting their faith, dragging them away from God. It is easy to sympathize with someone in a difficult marriage. It is much harder to justify their use of Ezra chapter ten as a divine permission slip to call a moving truck. The problem is not only theological; it is contextual. Ezra’s situation was unique to the nation of Israel at a specific point in redemptive history. They were rebuilding a nation set apart for God, and their survival depended on spiritual purity. Applying Ezra’s remedy directly to Christian marriage today is like using Old Testament dietary laws to decide whether Christians can eat bacon. (Spoiler alert: they can. Thank you, Acts chapter ten.)

The New Testament shines a different light on marriages between believers and unbelievers. The apostle Paul addresses this exact issue in First Corinthians chapter seven. Instead of instructing believers to separate from unbelieving spouses, he says the opposite: “If any brother has a wife who does not believe… let him not divorce her. And a woman who has a husband who does not believe… let her not divorce him.” Why? Because “the unbelieving spouse is sanctified” by the believing partner—not saved automatically, but placed in a spiritually privileged position where salvation is near. Paul does not fear the unbeliever’s corrupting influence. He celebrates the believer’s transforming influence. Unlike Ezra’s call to separation, the New Testament calls us to stay, to love, and to shine. Jesus did not remove His followers from a sinful world; He sent them into it as light. Marriage is no exception. God is still in the business of redeeming situations that appear hopeless. That includes homes where faith is uneven, love is tested, and one spouse wonders if change is even possible. The Old Testament required separation to preserve Israel’s identity. The New Testament calls for influence to expand Christ’s kingdom—beginning at home.