“How did this happen?”
“Y’all looked so happy!”
“But you’re a Christian!”
“Divorce is a sin ya know.”
“You’re going to regret this. It’ll be hard to recover from it.”
“Your kids will be damaged the most.”
These are all things I’ve heard from well-intended people mixed in with some lies from the devil himself. And truth be told, I couldn’t tell the difference most of the time.
21 years. That’s how long I was married. That’s a lot of time invested. A lot of memories created and a lot of life experiences to reflect on. If you think for a second this decision was taken lightly or it was easy or driven by anger or a desire for someone else, to play the field or live out some middle-aged fantasy, you need to climb down from Mt. Knowitall. (I’ve got a house up there so if you don’t mind, see if I left the lights on. )
I’ve mourned. A lot. You may see this rugged, chiseled, well-to-do outward appearance, but what you can’t see is the internal pain of causing pain. To her, to the kids and to the people who looked up to me. Days and days of crying out to God to fix it. Hours and hours of counseling. Homework and books and interventions and prayer and fasting. You name it, I did it. We did it. I’ve mourned the memories: The birth of the children, the victories in ministry, the successes in business. The little things that didn’t seem to matter at the time but still had a lasting impact. I’ve mourned the friendships, the relationships and the extend family that would be lost all in one failed swoop. Mourning can become a habit. A daily routine along with taking my vitamins and Focus. I’ve heard that divorce feels like a death and goodness, that couldn’t be more true. Except it’s arguably worst. You’re left with the immediate feeling of loss, regret and sorrow but unlike death, there is no closure. If you’re co-parenting, you’re still in relationship and still face the daily fears and doubts of that one decision. If you find yourself mourning the loss of a marriage or relationship, I get it.
But this is where many people get stuck. They mourn and mourn and mourn. Never letting go. Never forgiving themselves or the other person. Never moving forward.
Moving forward is hard. It’s the final step in the grief process and arguably the scariest one. You know why? Because the pain of the past is predictable. It may suck but at least you know what to expect and the habits, traits and coping mechanisms are already established to handle it. Moving forward requires a new normal to emerge. It requires us to work on us, break through some bad habits and ultimately live dependent on ourselves and no one else. When we move on it feels like we’re admitting that we failed. That WE quit or that THEY quit on us. It’s a total cluster of emotions that forces us to look in the mirror and accept the fact that it’s over. That relationship had ended and no matter who was at fault, holding onto the bitterness, unforgivness and resentment will only worsen the pain. It only prolongs the healing and restoration.
God isn’t unaware of our suffering. He sees us and feels right along with us yet wants to bring joy to the sorrow. He has a new, refreshing, unrelenting peace that he wants to impart into the most brutally painful corners of our heart. He’s a God that has felt what we feel. We can move forward because he’s with us, guiding us and leading us into deeper, calmer waters. And we could all use a little calm.
I know it doesn’t feel like it now but there is a joy on the other side. And don’t think I’m all the way there. I have my bad days just like you. Moments of fear and doubt try to creep in and I have to take my own advice. Moving forward isn’t an event, it’s an act of faith. It’s trusting in the one who holds our tomorrow in his hands, the one who feeds the sparrows and the one who numbers every hair on our head. It’s relying on him to get us through it (the past) as he takes us to it (our future).
Let it hurt. Let it heal. Let it go.