suffering

This is the closest I’ll come to revisiting 1 Cor. 7. I planned to ignore it completely, but a multitude of conversations led to some spiritual truth that I felt inclined to share. Whether these words are meaningful for another or I have organized these thoughts for my own benefit, I pray that I’ve found understanding.

A number of friends have broached the church’s divorce epidemic as of late, and I wonder if our “attitude pendulum” has not swung too far. It wasn’t long ago that a Christian getting a divorce was taboo; neither was it uncommon for those who had been divorced to feel unwelcome within a church body. I’m not encouraging a return to the latter. Clearly, it is our responsibility to exercise grace upon lives bent towards redemption and reconciliation with Christ.

While it is not in our best interest to administer law upon a believer redeemed and set free from an unsavory past, we overstep the precision of truth when we make martyrs of divorcees for their decision to leave difficult marriages. I’ve recently seen this occur at an alarming rate. When a loved one leaves an unloving marriage, it has become natural for believers to support the decision based on the relief of suffering. We acknowledge that the divorcee may be better positioned to serve God outside of the struggling marriage than within the burden of irreconcilable differences, selfishness, adultery (whether physical or emotional) or outright abuse. We praise the “strength” exhibited when the better party has found the determination to move on with his or her life.

Understand that I’m not advocating the acceptance of abuse. It is perfectly reasonable for a woman married to an abusive man to grab the children, leave the household, and never return. Likewise, stories of other believers’ adultery make me sick enough to my stomach that I can hardly fathom the thought of reconciling with my wife were this committed against me. I recognize this in my flesh, at least in regards to the worst-case scenario. However, a physical separation made in good judgment does not justify a position to break spiritual covenant with a spouse or with God Himself. Even a separation due to drastic circumstance is not an allowance for remarriage, or as scripture refers to it: adultery.

Jesus doesn’t contend with this being a difficult teaching. In the narrative found in Matthew 19 and Mark 10, Christ explains that divorce was never instituted by God, but was permitted because the people were hard-hearted. He distinguishes what is physically lawful from what is spiritually binding. I love the black and white response:

The disciples said to Him, “If the relationship of the man with his wife is like this, it is better not to marry.” (Matthew 19:10)

Yes! Make no bones about it: this relationship is not a light commitment!

[I’ve often wondered how the disciples thought the relationship was designed to operate. Perhaps they had never given it much thought because divorce had become an accepted practice. Oh, dear.]

When Christians file for divorce, most would conclude that the other party broke the marriage covenant first, justifying their “release“ from their marriage. After all, this is how legal matters operate. When a binding agreement is made between two business partners, that contract becomes null and void should one participant break his end of the arrangement. Due process is considered before this occurs, so that each individual knows the ramifications of terminating the contract.

What divorcees fail to recognize is that the marriage covenant was never theirs to break. Yes, husband and wife are bound together, but they are bound together by God! Guess who’s not breaking His end of the covenant…

We cannot forget what is most honoring to Him. Knowing that God hates divorce (Mal. 2:16) -- an attitude only attributed to our Father regarding idolatry, injustice to the poor, and deceiving one another -- would He prefer a man or woman to willingly commit this sin so that He might be served more effectively? Or would He be more honored by the spouse that endures a lifetime of suffering to the detriment of a “greater” ministry? What I know of God is that the ends never justify the means. The only justifiable action is obedience.

I don’t express it often enough, but my mom is an amazing woman. Understand that due to his own painful experiences, there are times in which my dad is incredibly difficult to love. Between the unforgiveness, the continual perception of being slighted, and the jealousy he harbors for my mother’s time, loving him is a full-time job. When he pulled out of the church, my mom held the burden of keeping my brother and I spiritually fed. During this season, she couldn’t involve herself in functions that contributed to her own spiritual health or develop deep friendships. If she spent too much time away from the house (or too much time on the phone), my dad would get upset or accusatory. Looking back, nearly every unjust argument in our household could be attributed to his desire to keep us together and maintain my mom’s position as the only steady thing in his life.

To her credit, marriage has always been a choice. I’m sure it’s been frustrating following Christ by herself. I’m certain that every prayer pleading for my dad’s salvation has come at the cost of denying another ministry. Had she left my father years ago, she could have easily married a man that loved God and made her feel appreciated. She’d have been unified with a body of believers that encouraged her gifts and offered emotional support. By most physical standards, her life may have been better.

But this much I know: in spite of my dad’s spiritual bondage, he loves my mom and there’s not a chance that he would leave her. And she loves him… she loves him enough to forego everything else to keep their marriage healthy. Would God be more honored by my mother bringing 100 people to Christ as a divorced woman? For me, the answer is rhetorical; we have a sorry habit of measuring the wrong criteria. It’s irrelevant what God may have had in store had my mom never married my dad. Her greatest act of obedience is fulfilling the covenant made between the two of them and God.

Here’s where this chapter comes full circle with me. In light of what I wrote about idolatry, there’s always been the opportunity for a more physically gratifying life. Thousands of Christians fall into temptation every day -- should I justify breaking one commandment to end years of sexual frustration, I would be in good company. Better men than I have fallen and recovered to lead successful ministries. The hour of condemnation would pass, and I wouldn’t have the standard of purity hanging over my head any longer.

During my previous study, I was frustrated by the lack of modern context within Paul’s teaching. An American man in the 21st century does not have the luxury of marrying to satisfy his desire because he wants it. There are a million free will decisions that Paul’s contemporaries never had to consider. What if a woman never reciprocates my love? What if I’ve aged to the point that the majority of my female peers have already given themselves to another man? What if my innocence becomes despised or a catalyst for a woman’s shame, even when I do not hold a sexual past against her? What if obedience leads to a life of suffering?

I’m thankful for the words of C.S. Lewis:

I do not say that you and I are individually responsible for the present situation. Our ancestors have handed over to us organisms which are warped in this respect: and we grow up surrounded by propaganda in favour of unchastity. There are people who want to keep our sex instinct inflamed in order to make money out of us. Because, of course, a man with an obsession is a man who has very little sales-resistance. God knows our situation; He will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. What matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them…

When an adolescent or an adult is engaged in resisting a conscious desire, he is not dealing with a repression nor is he in the least danger of creating a repression. On the contrary, those who are seriously attempting chastity are more conscious, and soon know a great deal more about their own sexuality than anyone else. They come to know their desires as Wellington knew Napoleon, or as Sherlock Holmes knew Moriarty; as a rat-catcher knows rats or a plumber knows about leaky pipes. Virtue -- even attempted virtue -- brings light; indulgence brings fog.

-- From Mere Christianity, emphasis added

I must remember that should this world do me no favors, my Father will consider every question that Paul could not foresee. I will not be judged as a man with a lawful or willing outlet for my sexuality. God will not condemn me in my suffering as He would in my justification of sin. While there are no guarantees that God will allow me to end the suffering, I must recognize that He will be glorified according to my obedience. Should my life serve as nothing more than a thankless symbol -- should I be the man that never exploits the opportunity for a quick kiss, that teaches a teenage girl or young lady how to trust again, that models for men the sort of husband I believe we should be -- He will receive His honor and I must find my joy in Him.