For something people describe as sacred, romantic, and eternal, marriage in the United States is surprisingly bureaucratic. Before two people can be “married,” they need a government-issued license. A clerk records the paperwork. A legal framework determines how assets will be divided if the relationship ends. And in many cases, the couple signs the same basic legal agreement that millions of other couples sign, whether it suits their lives or not. In other words, marriage—at least in the eyes of the state—is already a contract. We just pretend it isn’t.
The confusion comes from the fact that in modern culture, two completely different institutions are treated as though they are the same thing: religious marriage and legal marriage. They are not.
You can stand in a church, synagogue, mosque, or temple and make lifelong promises before your faith community without ever filing paperwork with the government. Likewise, you can sign a marriage license at a courthouse and become legally married without any religious ceremony at all. The two processes exist independently. We simply bundle them together out of habit.
If a religious community believes marriage is a sacred rite, then it should remain exactly that: a rite defined by that religious tradition. Every church should have the right to decide what marriage means within its own theology and who may participate in that ceremony. Religious rites belong to religious communities. The government has no business interfering with that.
The trouble begins when religious definitions of marriage start shaping civil law. Civil marriage is not a sacrament. It is a legal arrangement between two adults, and it should be treated as such. From the government’s perspective, marriage determines things like property ownership, inheritance, medical decision-making, taxation, and parental rights. These are legal issues, not theological ones.
If marriage is going to remain part of the legal system—and there are good reasons for it to be—then it should function like the legal structure it already is: a contract between consenting adults.
Right now, the marriage contract is strangely vague. Couples sign a license that carries enormous legal consequences, yet most people have little idea what those consequences are. They assume love will take care of the details. The law assumes the same boilerplate terms apply to everyone. That’s an odd way to structure one of the most significant legal agreements people will ever enter.
A better system would treat marriage more like other major contracts. Instead of a generic one-size-fits-all agreement, couples would create a detailed legal contract that outlines expectations, responsibilities, and plans for the future. The contract would address issues that often become painful battlegrounds during divorce: division of assets, financial responsibilities, potential child-rearing arrangements, and procedures if the relationship ends.

This would make the process of getting married more deliberate. Couples would need to think through practical realities before signing anything. They would discuss finances, expectations, and long-term plans—not because a counselor suggested it, but because the contract required it.
Ironically, making marriage harder to enter could make divorce much easier. Right now, divorce often becomes a drawn-out legal conflict precisely because the terms were never clearly defined at the start. Courts end up deciding how assets are divided, who keeps the house, and how responsibilities are shared. Lawyers argue over interpretations of a relationship that was never formally structured. If those expectations had been spelled out from the beginning, much of that conflict would disappear. Dissolving the marriage would simply mean executing the terms of the agreement.
Another improvement would be regular contract renewals. Life changes. Careers evolve. People move. Children are born. Financial situations shift dramatically over time. Yet most marriages are governed by a legal agreement signed decades earlier by two people who were often in their twenties at the time and had little idea what their future would look like.
A marriage contract could be reviewed and renewed at regular intervals—perhaps every five or ten years. During that process, both parties would examine the agreement, update it as necessary, and decide whether they want to continue the arrangement under revised terms. If both partners remain committed, the contract continues. If not, the dissolution process begins under the previously agreed rules.
This might sound clinical to people who prefer to think of marriage purely in romantic terms. But the truth is that marriage has always had a practical dimension. Historically, it was often more about property, alliances, and social structure than romance. Love marriages are actually a relatively modern expectation. Treating marriage as a clear legal contract wouldn’t eliminate love. It would simply acknowledge that love and law operate in different realms.
Religious communities would still be free to celebrate marriage as a sacred covenant if that is what their faith teaches. Couples who want that spiritual recognition could pursue it fully, without government interference. Meanwhile, the state would simply manage the legal framework: a contract between adults who wish to share certain rights, responsibilities, and protections.
Separating these two institutions—religious marriage and legal marriage—would solve many of the cultural battles that surround marriage today. Churches could define marriage however their doctrines require. The government could provide equal access to a legal partnership for any two adults capable of signing a contract. And couples would enter that partnership with their eyes open, fully aware of the terms they are agreeing to.
In the end, marriage might actually become stronger under such a system. Not because it would be easier, but because it would be more intentional. People would choose it deliberately, negotiate it thoughtfully, and renew it consciously over time.
A promise is meaningful. A contract is binding. Marriage, perhaps, should be both.
What do you think? Should marriage remain a traditional institution, or should it evolve into a clearer legal contract between partners? Share your thoughts in the comments.
Now available in print and on Kindle!

Check out my latest novel, It Had to Happen, now available in print and on Kindle!
Book Summary
When Jack Utley loses his daughter just as his business is about to soar, it seems he’s traded financial gain for Callie’s life. After an encounter with a mysterious woman on the eve of Callie’s funeral, Jack wakes up to find that time has somehow rewound to the morning of Callie’s accident. Jack gets an opportunity that most grieving parents can only dream of – he saves his daughter’s life.
Now that Jack has been forced to reflect on everything he has to lose, he resolves to do better. He’s determined to spend more time at home with his family and repair the relationships that have suffered over the years while he’s been so focused on work. But as Callie’s behavior becomes increasingly bizarre, Jack realizes he has a lot more room to improve than he realized – and it might be too late to save his daughter after all.
For fans of We Need to Talk About Kevin, The Push, and Baby Teeth.
Are you enjoying this content? Please consider leaving a tip! You can buy me a cup of coffee or donate a larger amount to help me “make a living” writing so I can quit my day job!
Become a regular patron of my art by signing up to contribute a set monthly dollar amount to help me make a living with my writing!
You can also make an annual contribution to my writing. Select an amount below!
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
