More Than Flowers and Chocolate: What Biblical Romance Really Looks Like

They stood in the card aisle longer than either of them expected.

Not arguing. Not disconnected. Just quiet. Reading. Putting cards back. Picking another one up. The kind that sounds sweet but somehow misses the mark.

They loved each other. That wasn’t the question.

The question was harder to name.

Is this what romance is supposed to feel like right now?

Life had been full. Good things. Hard things. Ordinary things. Work that followed them home. Kids who needed more than expected. Evenings that disappeared faster than they used to. They weren’t unhappy. But Valentine’s Day had a way of turning a quiet season into something that felt exposed.

If you’ve felt that tension, you’re not strange for it. You’re not doing marriage wrong. You’re just living in it.

February has a way of stirring things up. Not loudly. More subtly than that. A glance at social media. A church announcement about marriage enrichment. A well-meaning joke about flowers and dinner reservations. And suddenly something that felt steady last week starts to feel questioned.

That’s usually where romance gets complicated.

When Love Gets Loud

Romance didn’t always carry this kind of weight.

Somewhere along the way, it became loud. Visible. Measurable. It became something you could succeed at or miss. Something that showed up in pictures and posts and stories told by other people. And when it didn’t show up the same way in your own marriage, it was easy to wonder what that meant.

I’ve sat with a lot of couples who don’t lack love. They lack margin. Or rest. Or clarity. They’re faithful. They’re trying. They just don’t recognize their marriage in the versions of romance they keep seeing held up as the standard.

So they assume the problem must be them.

That assumption does more damage than we realize.

A Quieter Story

Scripture tells a quieter story about love.

Not smaller. Quieter.

From the beginning, marriage was rooted in belonging. “A man shall leave his father and his mother, and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, NASB). That kind of joining wasn’t built on intensity. It was built on promise.

Over time, Scripture holds together devotion and delight without forcing either one. You see it in the tenderness of the Song of Songs. You see it in the costly love Paul describes when he speaks of Christ giving Himself for the church (Ephesians 5:25, NASB). No theatrics. No pressure. Just faithfulness lived out over time.

Biblical romance doesn’t rush.

It doesn’t perform.

It doesn’t panic when desire ebbs for a season.

It assumes love is something that grows.

Seasons Change the Shape

Most couples are surprised to learn how normal it is for romance to change shape.

Early on, connection often comes easily. Conversation stretches late into the evening. Attention feels natural. Later, life fills in the space. Parenting years arrive. Stress accumulates. Bodies change. Energy shifts. A couple who once talked for hours now falls asleep mid-sentence.

That doesn’t mean romance disappeared.

It usually means it hasn’t been tended.

Romance in marriage isn’t something you trip over and hope stays. It’s something you return to. Again and again. Sometimes awkwardly. Sometimes slowly. Often imperfectly.

And it’s shared work. Not one person carrying the weight while the other waits to feel inspired.

Where Hearts Stay Guarded

There’s another piece that rarely gets named out loud.

Romance doesn’t grow where it feels unsafe.

I don’t mean physical safety. I mean the quieter kind. The sense that you won’t be dismissed when you speak. That you won’t be corrected mid-sentence. That bringing something up won’t turn into a debate or a withdrawal.

When that safety erodes—even a little—desire often follows. Not as punishment. Just as a natural response. Hearts don’t open easily when they’re bracing.

That doesn’t mean couples should avoid hard conversations. It means those conversations matter how they’re held. “Love is patient, love is kind… it does not take into account a wrong suffered” (1 Corinthians 13:4–5, NASB). Patience and kindness aren’t sentimental ideas. They’re relational conditions. They make space.

And space is where closeness breathes.

The Weight of Small Things

Most couples assume romance returns through something dramatic.

A perfect date.

A surprise weekend.

A reset that changes everything.

Those things can be good. But they don’t last on their own.

What lasts is quieter.

A thank-you that’s spoken instead of assumed.

Sitting together after the house finally settles.

A hand on the back as you pass in the kitchen.

A text sent in the middle of an ordinary day.

None of that photographs well.

All of it builds something real.

“Let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth” (1 John 3:18, NASB). That kind of love doesn’t rush to impress. It shows up. Again. And again.

Over time, those moments change the emotional climate of a marriage. Not instantly. But steadily.

A Day Without a Scorecard

Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to disappear for that to happen.

It just needs less pressure.

For some couples, that day becomes meaningful when it’s simple. A shared meal. A walk. An honest conversation about how things actually feel. For others, it might pass quietly this year—and that’s not a failure. It’s a reflection of the season you’re in.

Simplicity isn’t settling.

Sometimes it’s wisdom.

When couples talk openly about expectations instead of guessing, the day stops feeling like a test. It becomes a pause. And pauses matter.

The Long Faithfulness

What matters most is what happens after February 14th.

Romance isn’t sustained by a moment. It’s sustained by presence. By patience. By two people staying engaged with each other when life feels full and attention is scarce.

I’ve seen marriages grow stronger not because couples tried harder, but because they stopped measuring themselves. They put the scorecard down. They learned to stay curious instead of critical. They trusted that God was present in the slow work of love.

He is.

God is not standing over your marriage waiting for it to look more impressive. He is faithful in the quiet places. He honors love that keeps returning. Even when it feels ordinary.

Especially then.

An Invitation to Notice

If you notice yourself comparing this week, pause.

Notice one small way your spouse shows care. Name it. Let it land.

That’s not lowering the bar.

That’s learning where real romance grows.

If this stirred something in you, you’re welcome to share it. Not to fix anything. Just to name what you’re noticing. And if another couple might breathe easier reading this, pass it along.

There’s more grace here than we think.