Frankly Speaking

In North Carolina, a couple must be separated for a year before they can divorce. So with a year to kill, I made up my mind that this would be a time of introspection and focus: God would have my full attention, and I would become a phenomenal Christian. And, as much as I could help it, my four children wouldn’t be adversely affected by the separation. I would continue to be kind to my husband because that was the godly thing to do. Further, I would not date until we were divorced. Heck, I might even pray for our marriage to be healed–if I felt like it.

The first dose of reality was money. I earned a small income working part-time for my growing church, and Derwin had agreed to provide a certain amount as well. But it was barely enough. Still, it was early in the year, and I was convinced God would do miraculous things for us. We didn’t need no stinkin’ help from Derwin or anyone else!

In the meantime, Derwin did some things that hurt me. The last straw was in March, when he reduced the amount he was providing by more than $200. I had already forsaken the credit cards to pay our mortgage and keep our house running; I wasn’t sure how we would survive this blow. I prayed, but it didn’t seem God was listening.

So it became easy to forget my goals. I ignored Derwin whenever possible, and if I had to speak with him, I was impatient, cold and indifferent. All the hurt and anger I’d surpressed during our marriage now coursed freely through me–my words and actions were laced with bitterness. He’d been a horrible husband, and now he was making our lives even more difficult; he deserved my contempt.

I was also participating in some light flirting, and I was seriously considering dating. After all, my marriage was over; the separation was just a formality. I’d already taken off my wedding bands a couple months earlier and put them in my jewelry bowl. I considered myself single. I knew he would most certainly date, so why should I sit at home bored and lonely?

♦ ♦ ♦

Every day I read the Proverbs. There are 31 chapters, so I read the chapter that corresponds with the date. It was May 2, 2005.

Since I’ve read through the Proverbs many times, I wasn’t expecting anything to jump out at me. But then I read Proverbs 2:16-19:

“To deliver you from the immoral woman, from the seductress who flatters with her words, who forsakes the companion of her youth, and forgets the covenant of her God. For her house leads down to death, and her paths to the dead. None who go to her return, nor do they regain the paths of life …”  (emphasis mine).

I had never noticed that line before. It seemed like God had written it at that moment and placed it there just in time for me to read it … But of course I was being ridiculous. Those verses were talking about an immoral woman; God wouldn’t call me out like that! I closed the Bible and forgot about it.

The next day I read Proverbs 3. The whole chapter seemed like God speaking to me, and He was being specific about my behavior over the past few months. One passage in particular stood out:

“My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord, nor detest His correction; for whom the Lord loves He corrects, just as a father the son in whom he delights” (Proverbs 3:11-12).

If God was using these Proverbs to speak to me, then here He was telling me two things: (a) I was being disciplined, and (b) He loved me. That stirred something unfamiliar in my heart. In the meantime, I recognized perhaps God was dealing with me about my flirtatious (aka adulterous) behavior. So I decided I wouldn’t think about any other men anymore. But that decision didn’t last very long.

Two days later, I got up early to get my little ones off to school. I’d been up for a good part of the night, rehearsing my severe financial straits. I’d expected God to take care of us, but so far He didn’t seem to be doing anything. We were very low on food and there was no money. And there were other bills that needed to be paid.

I began to feel angry at God for letting me down. I was trying to trust Him, and it was becoming clear I’d made a mistake. As I drove my children to the bus stop, I was so livid I could barely see straight. I clenched the steering wheel, wanting to rip it off and throw it. It took every ounce of self control not to scream in front of my children.

When my husband left, I’d believed God would make Derwin jealous by taking fabulous care of my kids and me. I thought He would provide more than enough money through my graphic design business, and as such, I wouldn’t need anything from Derwin. The two of us–God and me, the Dream Team–would enjoy smooth-sailing while my husband suffered, baffled at my financial independence.

But this wasn’t happening. How dare God interrupt my carefully thought-out plans! Hadn’t I been faithful? Hadn’t I trusted Him? Was this how He would repay my faith?

Once the kids were safely on the bus, I drove home, barged into my house and stomped into my bedroom. And I let loose with a temper tantrum that would make any 2-year-old stand in awe.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” I screamed, throwing my angry words at the ceiling as if God was sitting on the roof. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF ME!”

You’ve left the companion of your youth. You’ve forgotten the covenant you made before Me.

“WHAT?!” I screamed. He was talking about those Proverbs. I remembered again the conviction that had welled up in my chest, that I’d pushed down and ignored. “You can’t possibly mean you want me to stay with that man! After all he’s done to me?!” At this point I threw myself onto my knees, my torso splayed across my bed, and I started punching the mattress and sobbing. (Just picture a 2-year-old having a temper tantrum, but bigger.) I can’t adequately describe how very angry I was, and how betrayed I felt.

“I WON’T DO IT!” I sobbed. “How can You even say that to me? Derwin was a horrible husband!”

What He said next immediately caught my attention.

Yes. Derwin has been horrible.

In the six years I’d been saved, through all the pain I’d encountered in my marriage, God had never acknowledged Derwin’s misbehavior to me. When I’d come to God after Derwin and I had fought, He seemed to ignore my complaints, instead expecting me to take responsibility for my shortcomings. I’d felt unfairly targeted, as if Derwin was getting away scott-free while I took the blame for everything.

Now suddenly came the acknowledgement I’d waited years to hear. It stopped me in my tracks and shut my mouth. I sat like a rag-doll, waiting to hear what He’d say next.

If you abandon Derwin now, he’ll think I’mabandoning him. To him, you represent Me. If you leave, there won’t be any room for Me to move.

I sat there dumbfounded and numb. In that moment, I didn’t much care about the fate of Derwin’s soul. I did care about being obedient. I wasn’t sure if I could reconcile the two.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

Put your rings back on.

I felt my heart thud in my chest, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Taking off those rings signified the end of my marriage, and freedom. The only reason I hadn’t thrown them away (or pawned them) was because I felt I should at least wait until the divorce was final. I never thought I’d wear them again.

Now God was asking me to willingly and openly acknowledge to Him, my husband and the world that I was still married. (Especially after I’d told everyone who’d listen that my marriage was over, and good riddance.) Worse, He was implying that He planned to heal my marriage. The idea repulsed me.

“I don’t want you to fix my marriage anymore,” I whined. “I hate him. I want him gone from my life.”

Who are you to tell Me which blessings are good and which aren’t? Am I not your Father? How could I not know your heart–what will please you and what will not, what good gifts to give to you?

This wasn’t the God I thought I knew. This wasn’t the God with His thumb on my back. This was a God who sounded like He cared about me. As upset as I felt about what He was asking of me, I felt tender toward God for being so unusually gentle with me.

What can I say to that? I thought. I got up numbly and floated to my dresser. I picked up my rings and stared at them in my palm.

Put them on as an act of faith. Give Me room to move.

So I did. The memory of that day is so precious to me!