GUEST POST: God Hates Divorce

God Hates Divorce. So Do I. 

You know that somewhat sympathetic, hollow look you give a new acquaintance when you find out they are divorced? Certainly you don’t judge outright, but you wonder whether your new friend really took marriage seriously? I used to do that, too. 

Like many bright-eyed young brides, I spoke confidently of never letting divorce be an option. Marriage is a permanent union of husband, wife, and God, and no amount of difficulty would ever disrupt that bond.

Our story could have had a happy ending; that is, no ending at all. But in a vicious cycle, my husband – my high school sweetheart – became addicted to pornography, became depressed, and wandered from his faith. 

He refused to see a counselor. I would find him sitting in a dark closet and could think of nothing to do but sit in silence with him, hoping at least my presence would be a comfort. But he continued to spiral downwards. 

Finally, he returned from a business conference and told me that he had made a mistake in marrying me, that I deserved better than him. I was confused and devastated. 

A week later, things became more clear when a stranger told me the truth: my husband slept with a girl he met at the conference and had promised to leave me for her. 

I confronted him. He lied. He realized I already knew. He apologized. He said he wanted our marriage more than anything. I read a pile of books on how to restore a marriage after adultery. He slept with the girl again. He lied again. 

Heartbroken, I desperately sought the advice of family and friends. Our counselor and our pastor both advised me that there was little hope for a turnaround in his behavior or his attitude. After seven years of marriage, we divorced. 

God hates divorce (Mal. 2:16); believe me, so do I. The one should not become two. 

The road returning to singleness is a rough one. I have never experienced deeper, more anguishing emotional pain, searing to the point of physically aching. My husband was my best friend, my lifelong love. He abandoned our marriage, he abandoned me. 

I cried more in one month than in the rest of my life put together. My identity was lost; I thought my life was over. 

Months later, I still saw myself as discarded, damaged goods. It didn’t help that a churchgoing Christian in my new town rescinded his offer of a date when I told him I was divorced – he informed me that there were plenty of nice, attractive, intelligent, non-divorced Christian women, and that men in the church could afford to be choosy. Ouch. In the face of this, having friends to remind me of my self-worth was a lifesaver. 

Did I acquire deep wounds from this experience? Yes. But I also, remarkably, grew in ways I never anticipated. 

Yes, the obvious - because I have been through it myself, I am now better able to comfort friends who are suffering and lonely (2 Cor. 1:3,4). But I learned far more from this experience than just compassion: 

I am strong. 

I initially felt like damaged goods... and damaged I was (and still am)! I came to realize that although some in the church might view me with a scarlet D, others would instead see and appreciate the strength of character that had been developed in me through this trauma. My faith and reliance on God is much stronger now than when my life was picture-perfect (Romans 5:3-5). 

And when I married six years later, I could enter the commitment with the confidence that I won’t crumble when life gets difficult. There is value going into surgery with a doctor who has practiced medicine for years - even if a bit worn-down, she sure beats the fresh, well-rested student with only book-learning to guide her scalpel! 

I am weak. 

Reeling from the pain of my husband’s unfaithfulness, I heard, for the first time in my life, direct words from God. Actually, I felt their deep truth rather than hearing the words themselves: “This is how I feel when you wander from me”. 

God’s tone was not at all accusing; it was sorrowful. Having seen the person I loved break his promise and discard a loving relationship against all common sense, I learned how God feels when I turn away from Him (as in the parable of the prodigal son). 

God shares in my suffering. 

Isaiah tells an amazing story about God and His people (Isaiah 63:9): “In all their distress he too was distressed.” I have to repeat it: “In all their distress he too was distressed.” I clung to this verse that first year. I had always pictured God comforting and guiding from a distance. I had never considered that, in a personal way, God was as hurt and disappointed as I was! 

God knows what it’s like to be deeply wounded. He seems to have a special place in His heart for those who, in addition to struggling with their own sin, must also live with the consequences of others’ sin. What a remarkable thing to have God Himself as a comforter for our suffering, but also a companion in our suffering. 

Mal. 2:16 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mal.%202:16&version=NIV 

2 Cor. 1:3,4 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Cor.%201:3,4&version=NIV 

The parable of the prodigal son 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2015:11-32&version=NIV  

Romans 5:3-5 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+5%3A3-5&version=NIV 

Isaiah 63:9 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2063:9&version=NIV

"Remember Lot’s wife" (Luke 17:32).

Years ago I was thinking about my fixation on a past relationship, and the Lord spoke to me about Lot’s wife. I wondered, What exactly did Lot’s wife do that turned her into a pillar of salt, and what does this have to do with me?

I did a Google search and read a couple of commentaries on the verses in Genesis. According to these, her sin was not merely looking back--but disobedience and disbelief. The angel of the Lord specifically instructed Lot and his family not to look back. Then I began to ask myself, in what ways is my tendency to “look back” and remain in the past linked to disobedience and disbelief? If God was telling me not to look back, then looking back would indeed be disobedient; but how was I not believing God for my future?

Well, to start with, since my last relationship was with someone who was everything I ever wanted in man—except that God was not the most important thing in his life--the thing I feared the most was that I would end up with someone that loves God, but that would fall short in some way that he did not. Oh, me of little faith!

One day, I was thinking about how much I would love to marry someone who likes to dance. The thought occurred to me, What if the godly man God gives me doesn’t like to dance?!? What a sad loss! Suddenly, it was if the Lord spoke to me again through the words of Jim Elliot: "He is no fool who gives the thing he cannot keep to buy what he cannot lose."

Most recently the Lord has been speaking to me through Tim Keller's book, Counterfeit Gods, and I have been incredibly convicted by the words in the first few chapters. He says, "The human heart takes good things like a successful career, love, material possessions, even family, and turns them into ultimate things. Our hearts deify them at the center of our lives, because, we think, they can give us significance and security, safety and fulfillment, if we attain them" (xiv). As a matter of fact, Keller asserts, "the greater the good, the more likely we are to expect that it can satisfy our deepest needs and hopes" (xvii).

For those who heart’s desire is marriage--what could more easily become an idol than that? 

God should be our true Spouse, but when we desire and delight in other things more than God we commit spiritual adultery. Romance or success can become 'false lovers' that promise to make us feel loved and valued. Idols capture our imagination, and we can locate them by looking at our daydreams. What do we enjoy imagining? What are our fondest dreams? We look to idols to love us, to provide us with value and a sense of beauty, significance, and worth (xxi).

What exactly was it that I was daydreaming about for months on end? Well, the specifics aren't important, but the key was that I was making marriage into an idol. 

Keller uses the story of Abraham to illustrate:

God's extremely rough treatment of Abraham was actually merciful. Isaac was a wonderful gift to Abraham, but he was not safe to have and hold until Abraham was willing to put God first. As long as Abraham never had to choose between his son and obedience to God, he could not see that his love was becoming idolatrous…. 

Abraham took that journey, and only after that could Abraham love Isaac well and wisely…. Here, then, is the practical answer to our own idolatries, to the 'Isaacs' in our lives, which are not spiritually safe to have and hold. 

We need to offer them up (13-14, 15, 17).

The day I broke it off with my boyfriend, my brother said to me, "Well, I guess you just gave God your Isaac." The only problem was, until I began reading Tim Keller's book, my willingness to "offer up my Isaac" operated as a bargaining tool: God, I gave up everything I ever wanted in a man for you; so now you owe me!

Only through Tim Keller's convicting words has the Lord allowed me to see both my idolatry and my lack of faith. According to Keller, we need to be able to say to the Lord: "I see that you may be calling me to live my life without something I never thought I could live without. But if I have you, I have the only wealth, health, love, honor and security I really need and cannot lose" (19).

Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.

Je ne suis pas Charlie: I Am NOT Charlie

Like millions of others, I was horrified when I heard about the terrible tragedy at the offices of the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo on January 7^th. In subsequent days, I spent hours watching the news and fearing for the people of France (a country I visited for a month at age 18 and came to love) as new gunmen took hostages and the violence threatened to grow. I even considered posting “Je suis Charlie” as a status update on Facebook.

That was until I heard a segment about the admittedly irreverent publication on the January 13^th broadcast of “All Things Considered” on NPR.

“Staff members say the magazine is not Islamophobic and is only fighting to keep religion out of public life,” they reported.

I am the first person to say that the journalists at Charlie Hebdo—or any other publication for that matter–have every right to mock whomever they want. You want to mock Christianity? Jesus? Be my guest. But what does this statement really mean for Charlie Hebdo? Does keeping religion out of public life end with mocking the beliefs of others or does it go further than that? 

While I share no sympathy with jihadist Muslims, and affirm the rights of the writers at Charlie Hedbo to speak—or in this instance, cartoon–freely, how can anyone expect to “keep religion out of public life”? How can a person, who holds a specific set of beliefs, keep them “out of” their life? While religion, by definition, usually refers to a set of beliefs and practices regarding a god or gods, it derives from the Latin religare, meaning to tie or fasten; literally, re- + ligāre means “to bind.” All of us, in one way or another, “bind” ourselves to certain beliefs, but if a publication like Charlie Hebdo is going to accomplish its desired goal, every person alive must “check their beliefs” at the door before entering the public square. Or is it just belief in a god that must be left behind? Non-belief in a god or gods can inform a life and influence the choices a person makes—or doesn't make–and the journalists at Charlie Hebdo are no exception. So how can my belief in God, that informs my life and influences the choices I make, be “left out”?

If keeping religion out of the public square equals not murdering abortion doctors or slaughtering journalists, then I'm all for it.

If it means silence, then they've got another thing coming. 

Je ne suis pas Charlie.

My first article on the "Disney Dads" blog!

A Memorial Day Aha! Moment — Thanks to Captain America by Carilyn Flynn

First Loser

Recently, someone posted a video of Jerry Seinfeld talking about the Olympics:

The Olympics is really my favorite sporting event, although I think I have a problem with that silver medal. I think, if I was an Olympic athlete, I would rather come in last than win the silver. If you think about it...if you win the gold, you feel good. If you win the bronze, you think: "Well, at least I got something." But if you win that silver, it's like, "Congratulations! You...almost won. Of all the losers, you came in first of that group. You're the number one...loser. No one lost...ahead of you."

I've been struggling lately with my perfectionism. This was brought to screeching clarity last week when I got some blood test results back from the doctor.

You see, my nephew is a missionary with Operation Nehemiah, a ministry working to make a community in South Sudan self-sufficient after decades of civil war (in the pictures on the website, he's clearly the American in glasses). Before Jonathan left in September, he got a battery of vaccines, but there is no current vaccine for malaria, and during his four month stint, Jon was bitten by a mosquito carrying malaria. He suffered with three recurrences of the disease before returning to the states, and just a few days after his return home last month, Jon got sick again.

After a trip to the ER, the doctors discovered that these recent symptoms were not a result of the malaria--but Hepatitis A. Before you "run for the hills"--screaming--lest reading my blog might infect you, Hepatitis A is an inflammation of the liver that is usually not fatal. And, according to the Mayo Clinic, "No specific treatment exists for hepatitis A. Your body will clear the hepatitis A virus on its own. In most cases of hepatitis A, the liver heals completely in a month or two with no lasting damage. Hepatitis A is caused by infection with the hepatitis A virus. The hepatitis virus is usually spread when a person ingests tiny amounts of contaminated fecal matter." Yup. Fecal matter. So, basically, since there is only one well that is the water source for the entire village and eating out of a communal bowl is part of Sudanese culture...you do the math.

Once I received this news, I called my primary care doctor and he recommended that I come in for a blood test. I asked the phlebotomist how likely it was that, if I had it, I passed it on unknowingly while babysitting for a friend before Jon got the diagnosis. She said, "Well, I'm sure you don't feed them fecal matter, so they'll be fine." What about hugs and kisses? "Nope. It's only transmitted through fecal matter, and I'm sure you wash your hands thoroughly, so..." Still, in the meantime, I alerted my places of work--including my friend and the families I tutor for--so that they could decide if they wanted me to wait until I got the results before resuming work. Many opted for this route, but when I got the results back three days later I was happy to announce: "I do not have Hepatitis A!"

You might have thought this was good news. At least I thought it was, but for some of my clients, this was not enough; they still didn't want me to come and tutor their kids. I thought to myself, "Which part of 'I do not have Hepatitis A' don't you understand?!?"

STORY OF MY LIFE: I do everything I'm supposed to do; I knock myself out to do the right thing--AND IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

Watching the Olympics these weeks has made me realize that I am just like those egotistical Olympians who say, "Yeah, I won a bunch of National Championships, but I realized it didn't mean anything unless I won a gold medal."

Basically, what they are saying is, "I'm super-privileged: I've got above-average talent, I've been lucky enough to be able to afford pursuing this dream, I've got all my limbs (or at least the ones with this attitude seem to), and I'm good enough to qualify for the Olympics...but if I'm not the best, then 'Chuck it.'" What ingratitude.

And that's what is wrong with me.

If I can't be the best, if I can't be perfect, then I feel like the first loser. And, as any perfectionist will tell you, they would rather not try than do something half-heartedly. Anything worth doing is worth doing well, they'd say. And they would be wrong.

Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love. --Mother Teresa

If I try, and I fail, at least I tried?

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing. Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:1-7).

And I've failed. 

If I cannot in honest happiness take the second place (or the twentieth); if I cannot take the first without making a fuss about my unworthiness, then I know nothing of Calvary love. --from If, by Amy Carmichael

But Love...never fails.

Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away. When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love (1 Corinthians 13:8-13).

That which I know not, teach Thou me, O Lord, my God. --Amy Carmichael

Amen.

A life worth living

Life doesn't always turn out the way that you imagined.

As a young woman, I never thought that at thirty-seven I would be single and child-less.

But then again, God is not a Domino's Delivery Guy--it won't do any good to complain that you didn't get the extra cheese you ordered, and you can't get your money back if your order isn't delivered in 30 minutes or less.

Besides, if you spend time complaining that you didn't get precisely what you thought you wanted--instead of being thankful for the gifts that you have indeed been given--you will waste your life being miserable!

Furthermore, sometimes life's unexpected outcomes can turn out to be life's greatest blessings. If I had gotten married at 22 like I had planned, my life would be incredibly different--and I would rather be single than unhappily married.

So, instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, let's make a life-plan that is not contingent upon [enter unfulfilled dream here]:

1. Choose an occupation--or follow a vocation--that you enjoy.

2. Volunteer for causes that you are passionate about.

3. Make memories with family and friends.

4. Pursue things that you love (read, write, watch movies, attend plays, listen to live music, stare at art, hike, bike, and get out there).

5. Travel, as the desire and budget affords.

6. Do crazy things that may or may not involve: going through a Burger King drive-through while your passengers make your vehicle rock like a gangster; taking pictures in public with a generic Barbie doll (see number 3).

7. Look after "orphans and widows in their distress" (James 1:27).

So as I stare into the future, not knowing what the future holds, I am going to create the life I want to live.

So there.

"And life is worth living!" --Maximo Park

An open letter to Scott Brown

Scott Brown for United States Senate

337 Summer Street

Boston, MA 02210

(857) 263-8346

September 26, 2012 

Dear Senator Brown:

In Steven Ertelt’s article, “Scott Brown Says He Supports Abortion, Limits, And Opposes Health Care Bill,” you acknowledged Roe v. Wade as “the law of the land.” This is true, yet nearly fifty years ago, Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote from Birmingham City Jail, "We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was 'legal.'"

You also said, “I feel this issue is best handled between a woman and her doctor and her family.” In 1975, my mother was forty-five years old and pregnant. Roe v. Wade and a woman’s “right to choose” had been the “law of the land” for two years. Doctors, friends, and family members advised her to have an abortion in case I was born with Down Syndrome. She resisted, and on June 10, 1976, I was born--perfectly healthy.

You are my Senator. You wrote the Chairman of the Republican National Committee in 2012 about “a woman’s right to choose”; if you had been my Senator in 1975, would you have fought against laws that would have violated my right to live?

I commend you for your stance against partial-birth abortions, federal funding, your support of parental consent notification and your desire to reduce the number of abortions. I realize that abortion is a complicated issue and it is very unlikely that Roe v. Wade will ever be overturned, but like the Civil Rights Activists before you, I would hope that you would do everything in your power to fight for the rights of the most easily marginalized members of our society: the unborn.

Sincerely,

Carilyn Flynn