Good Christians don’t divorce or do they!

This was not happening. It could not happen. Not to me anyway!!! Yet it was. I was getting divorced.

But this was a Christian marriage, you know, everybody knows that “a three stranded chord is not easily broken” and “God hates divorce”. Nevertheless, I was now a divorced Christian woman.

Divorced Christian? I didn't think those two words could co-exist. Not in my tidy evangelical theology. So what now? In a church full of families and married couples, where did a divorced woman fit?  There I was, part of a church community, with half my heart torn out, still reeling in disbelief over what had happened to me, and tormented by a thousand unanswered questions.

Well meaning church folk, who probably hadn't experienced separation or divorce, would quote scriptures to me like “God works all things together for good” (I felt like telling them where they could stick that verse) and my all time, most hated, out of context scripture “the Lord will be your husband”. I felt like screaming at them saying, “I want my own husband back thank you. God can't cuddle me in bed on a cold night. God can't chat with me about his day and help me cook the dinner at the end of a hard days work. God can't put the heater on when he gets home from work before me, so I don't walk into a cold, empty house.”

I felt like the only single in a universe of couples. And church became the last place I wanted to be. My faith quickly went down the toilet. Anyway, where the hell was God in the middle of this excruciating pain I was in? Why should I stay faithful to someone that didn't seem to care, wasn't answering my prayers and seemed to have taken a vacation when I most needed him? I felt completely betrayed. After all, I had done everything so “right” leading up to this marriage. Praying, fasting, and seeking wise counsel, years of celibacy waiting for the “right one”. So why wasn't God doing his bit when things turned to shite? I quickly replaced my faith with sex and red wine. Anything to kill the pain.

A year or so later I stumbled across a group called Spirited Exchanges. This was a group of people on a faith journey who were not afraid to tackle some of the hard faith questions that come up when they are going through hell, questions that you wouldn't dare ask in a church. The people at Spirited Exchanges seemed to have no agenda (like trying to get me back into “the fold”) nor did they point the finger of judgment at my analgesic activities. This amazed me. I felt safe and understood. Thus began the journey toward  restoration of my faith and shattered heart.

Brenda Shearer