In June 2012, my husband and I were fully immersed in our church. I was part of the women’s pastoral team and children’s work, while my husband was involved in worship. We were also part of a life group. We had been married for three years, having met at church during our teens, and I was due to start a new teaching job in September. After much prayer I was about to take over the leadership of the 14–18s youth group.
In August 2012 our marriage broke down. It was a shock to me, and to our friends and families. I’d known Christian marriages weren’t immune from trouble, but I had never consciously thought to guard against it. Confusion reigned in a place of abandonment, where everything I had known had collapsed around me. Members of my life group were among those who received my first cries for help. It was my most personal, authentic experience of biblical living: ‘And if one member suffers, all the members suffers with it; or one member is honoured, all the members rejoice with it’ (1 Corinthians 12:26, NKJV).
They walked with me into suffering. No hour was too late, nothing was too much to ask and I was given a key to one of their homes, just in case I needed it. When I turned up crying on my pastors’ doorstep at midnight, they prayed and talked with me into the early hours. Within a week, unable to reach a resolution, I had made use of the key given to me and moved into my friends’ home, where they cooked and cared for me. Actions and decisions were talked through, and necessary rebukes or exposure of sin were spoken about with love and concern, in private.
At a time of feeling abandoned by the one who should have been there for me, I was met with love and compassion. Within this sphere I felt safe. I was also acutely aware of our close friends attempting to make contact and support my ex-husband. For almost two years I met weekly with another church friend as we petitioned in prayer on many topics and listened to God’s guidance. God was the only constant in a world in which everything I thought I knew had been swept up like a tornado and scattered. My understanding of the Bible increased tenfold and I have never felt so close to God.
In May 2013 I began leading the 14–18s youth work. Why would a person so clearly struggling in her own life and so broken and hurting be the right person to do this? I had felt called to lead it previously, and suddenly that call returned. I had come to know God in a different way. My leadership was reliant on God working through my weakness, and if there was one thing I had learnt it was to rely on him as the only surety in life. My energy was being channelled into a new adventure, with God at the forefront. It was unrelated to my husband, or ‘us’, which was incredibly helpful.
Sessions on topics such as, ‘Where next?’ were as pertinent to me as to the young people. I had more understanding of their shattered dreams, fragile hopes and difficult circumstances. It provided an authenticity to my life of faith through failure and disappointment. I was not a person devoid of pain, but someone who had chosen to follow and trust God regardless of circumstance.
I am now happy and divorced (I would never have put those two together before), and challenged by God to use my increased free time for evening youth group sessions. God’s strength through my weakness has helped me lead. Would I have expected my life to turn out like this? Never. Yet I’ve known God’s presence in a tangible way and been brought into a spacious place.
Be real and bring hope
Once people knew my situation, I found many people who had been in similar circumstances. People I never imagined had been divorced shared some of their stories with me. This gave me hope. It’s the same reason you ask people who have experienced troubled teenage years to share their stories with young people. Being able to identify is such a relief.
Reach out
Other people’s relationships with your spouse are exclusive to them, so I had no idea how much people reached out to my ex-husband unless they chose to tell me, but knowing they had meant that I didn’t feel I was fighting alone. Reach out to those on the edge of your church family, the prodigals and the marginalised. You don’t have to share details of conversations, but consider telling their family you’ve contacted them. Knowing you have cared enough to extend friendship and forgiveness, whatever their actions, will refresh the faith of the family.
Rejoice and mourn
Those who were there in the nights of crying when hope seemed lost are the same people I ring first with good news, and the ones who celebrate with me. They have rejoiced in the small victories and cried with me in the setbacks. Have you ever wished Jesus could just come and be a physical person on Earth once more for a hug or a chat? We are the people he sends, so listen to his prompting and act.
Remember the big picture
God doesn’t just see your past. When you are in the depths of despair, God also knows where you are going. It might not be where you wanted to go, but know that God goes before you. He is steadfast; you can trust in him.
