I
mentioned earlier that as a Christian married to a Christian I believed with my whole
heart there was no such option as divorce for me. I didn't even consider it. Along with
that I had rejected the idea of separation aswell. I was still completely committed to the
marriage I had begun ten years earlier.
Separation had
been a huge step for me, and I actually took that step using several smaller ones.
First it was temporary separation due to illness, then emergency refuge in a women's
shelter, and finally, after much deliberation, I accepted that it really was ok for me to
say I was legally separated. But divorce was still out of the question.
In many, if not
most, situations involving Christians, I still believe that divorce is the wrong direction
to take. You won't be able to understand my reasoning in my own case because I am
not at liberty to discuss the details of my divorce, but I don't want to leave you with
the impression I somehow hypocritically dropped my standards to suit myself. All I
will say is, keep reading, but understand there are some gaping holes in the story that
may never be filled.
I want to relate
another 40 day incident now. It is crucial to an understanding of what
follows.
One day I was
prayer journalling and I distinctly remember the feeling I had as I wrote. I told
God that I could wait forever for His plan to unfold, but I needed to know that everything
humanly possible was being done to help my husband. The suffering he had endured and
was still enduring was enormous. Being taken away from the daily burden of it was
necessary, I knew, and I accepted that for now it was impossible to even speak to him, but
I wanted reassurance that God wasn't waiting for someone to do something before He would
act.
I was pouring out
my heart, and God responded. In that now familiar way, he placed an idea in my mind.
Once again it involved 40 days. I was suddenly and inexplicably aware that there
were 40 days between Jessie's birthday and my husband's. Then, I realised that God
was wanting me to call together as many people as I could to pray for that 40 days,
specifically for my husband. I wrote a letter, sent it and got unanimous acceptance
of the idea.
For the whole 40
days I hardly prayed. I felt mystified by this, but it did seem to fit in with the
theme of the last year or so, during which time God had been systematically relieving me
of the burden of responsibility for my husband.
I had enough
experience of God's ways now that I didn't try and predict the outcome of this endeavour,
though I never once doubted God was at work.
What happened was
totally and utterly unexpected.
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