I was so over-whelmed with responses to my last entry. Most of it positive reinforcement. Some responses I feel should have been kept to the person who shared it. Some people assume they think they know exactly what went wrong in my marriage, and some of them even had the balls to guess aloud. Not one person has been correct. But I expected it. The people I care most about and I know the truth, and that's comforting.
I was talking to my good friend Amber last night. She is, without a doubt, the most uplifting and insightful individual I have ever known. She knows the extent to which I am imperfect, but not a hint of condescension is in her voice as she reassures me that I am not a terrible person. Something I shared with her last night is something I will share with you. Bare in mind that these are raw thoughts- politically, and I'm sure theoretically, incorrect statements that have not been approved by your minister.
I suffered in silence in my marriage. Why? Because I felt that I made my bed and I must lie in it. A lifetime of misery was my consequence for entering a marriage that my martyred conscience knew better than to enter. I also did not what to hear "I told you so", "That's what you get for not listening,", or "You should have thought about that in the first place." I also did not want to admit to everyone that I had failed. I did not want to walk through the doors of a church and have them say to my face, "I'm so sorry," but in their heads say, "I knew they would never make it." I didn't want to be labeled as a "damaged good". If I ever moved on in life, how do I explain my mistakes to another suitor? Would anybody ever want me again anyway?
Sidenote: What gave me the strength to leave despite these things was my son. He deserves a happy mother and a happy home. I would not be doing either of us a favor if I pretended to be happy for the rest of my life, while on the inside I felt like I was slowly dying. So I don't give a rat's behind what anyone thinks of me for his sake.
So my question this: Does the church demonize divorce to the extent that people who are hopelessly miserable in their marriage sentence themselves to a lifetime of turmoil? My answer is YES.
Now, I know that every marriage is different. Some are entered to on well-intentioned terms, and then suddenly one of the spouses really messes up. Or gradually messes up. Maybe both mess up. Maybe a spouse is not guilty of abuse or adultery, but maybe they are guilty of intentionally withholding affection, isolating the other into a dark corner of neglect, or choose to dishonor the other by making selfish choices. Maybe they are guilty of not caring anymore. What if there are things that counseling simply cannot fix? Or what if a spouse simply refuses to go to counseling in the first place? Does the other spouse have biblical grounds for divorce? Well not technically, I suppose. At least I have been unable to find it.
So then what? Are they supposed to just tough it out? Deal with it? Suck it up?
This is how I knew that my marriage could not continue: After exhausting every resource and approaching from every angle, I could not glorify God with my marriage. I'm not saying the divorce glorified God in any capacity, but it opens my son and I to a life in which we can go on to glorify Him. My initial mistake was taking a relationship that did not glorify God and decimating the sanctity of marriage by entering into it on such disrespectful terms.
So was my sin getting a divorce? Or was my sin entering a marriage I knew I should not have? Would staying married have upset God more than my breaking of a promise? God hates what is not good, so do both the marriage and the divorce piss Him off? Was I screwed either way? I don't know the right answer, or if there even is one.
Sometimes the guilt is overbearing. Sometimes I wish I could stand on a town square and be stoned as angry townspeople yell "Slut!" and "Whore!". And you know what? I know I shouldn't feel that way. I do, but I shouldn't. Regardless of what got me to this point, God doesn't want me to feel that way. He has chosen to redeem every failure, not just socially acceptable ones.
My thought is this: How many people are sitting beside me in the pews who are desperately miserable in their marriage, and are too ashamed to acknowledge it? And how do we let them know it's okay to tell somebody?
Wait a minute, Sarah. Do you mean to say that you want to further escalate the statistic of more than half of all marriages failing by encouraging people who want to get a divorce to get a divorce? Of course not! I am, however, suggesting that by getting more people to open up about their troubled marriages, the more we might be able to save. I believe there is a point of no return- that once you stop wanting to make things work, that it cannot be undone.
There is a time, place, and special group of people somewhere aptly equipped to deal with saving marriages that can be saved, and given my experience, I am certainly not one of them. I do wish that churches made more of an effort to support families and marriages. Advertising for a once-a-year marriage conference or hosting a couples Bible-study is not going to cut it.
Sarah, are you suggesting the church is responsible for your failed marriage? ABSOLUTELY NOT! The blame lies solely in myself! I'm not even sure that any amount of effort on the church's part could have intervened with my determination to do what I wanted to do.If that's what you get out of this, then you are misunderstanding my tone.
How can the body of Christ support marriages in glorifying God with their union? And how can the body of Christ encourage those who need help with their marriage to seek it? And how can the body of Christ heal those whose marriage has failed?
What lesson can I learn from MY selfishness, MY failure, and MY mistakes, and how can I apply that lesson in a way that glorifies God? I'm still trying to figure it out. In the meantime, I'm inexplicably grateful that He is faithful in His promise to love me despite my stupidity.
When I hold Lennox during his feeding time, I suddenly become an insightful philosopher. I slip into a thoughtful trance, reassuring myself I can solve the world's myriad of problems, as well as my own, by searching every inch of his face. I am still so easily overwhelmed at how my love for him can simultaneously be both simple and complex. Simple because it's so instinctual. Complex because I can't explain it. I often worry that time is slipping from me in such a hurried manner, because let's face it, it is. I try to soak up every single second, and then wonder if I'm missing out on memories because I'm too worried about missing out on memories. In his face somewhere is a brighter future for him and myself. Judgmental vibes and doctrine-driven criticism can't deter God from giving us the life that He promised.
And so through the mire I trudge.
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