The Painful Truth
My experience with infidelity and divorce changed me. I’m not talking about a superficial change, but a foundational one that forced me to live in an honest space. Today, I can no longer live in dishonesty the way I once did in my marriage. I crave the truth, just as my body craves oxygen. In the spiritual sense, I need it desperately to survive.
I will never forget the feeling of discovering my husband’s betrayal. The horrible knowledge made me realize the marriage that I thought was okay, was anything but. The man I married was not who I thought he was. What I believed was reality, was really a lie. In an ironic way, discovering the affair was the gift that kept on giving. Like Eve in the garden, my eyes were opened and the truth was cold and terrible, but…it was the truth. I followed the truth down rabbit holes of anger, sadness, and despair before it brought me to the feet of God, vulnerable and terrified. I hated my husband and I hated myself for being so stupid. When people lie to you, they treat you like a fool and this for me was the wound that hurt the deepest and healed the slowest. How could I have been so stupid? As horrible as it might be, the truth is always a gift. The truth gives you a chance to make decisions for yourself and provides the opportunity for clarity and wisdom. In my darkest, lowest moment I was able to stand in a place of truth and that was the key to a whole new future.
The world we live in is fundamentally dishonest, especially when it comes to admitting our own moral shortcomings. We have become experts at spinning sins into virtues. Sure, we’re willing to admit we’ve gained a few pounds, but we’re not so willing to confess our feelings of jealousy, depression, depraved thoughts, deep-seated anger, addictions, bitterness, or sexual perversions. Our moral failings are embarrassing and they make us vulnerable to the judgement of others. Who wants that? Often we are dishonest because we simply want what we want. Most of us are basically self-interested, self-focused beings that prioritize our own desires and wants over what’s good for others. It’s difficult to be honest with ourselves about that. Most of us do not like to admit that we can be innately selfish even when it causes pain to others. We dress up our true intentions in narratives of our good will and some of us might even believe the rosy tales we tell. We gaslight ourselves.
When I faced my own moment of truth, it was not just my husband’s sins that flashed before my eyes, but my own. I saw all the times I deflected what was wrong in my marriage. The lies I told and the ways I had clothed myself in these same lies to stay comfortable and to hide my nakedness. But, in order to stay at ease, I had also refused to challenge myself spiritually. I was resisting change and avoiding growth hoping to live unnoticed in the margins of the good Christian status quo. Tragedy struck and forced me out. My unhappiness was the result not only of my husband’s actions, but my own inaction. I had spent the time in my marriage hiding from the truth.
The tendency to cling to a comfortable lie is perhaps not so unusual. Most of us would choose comfort over suffering. In my book, House on Sand, the protagonist Ellie Gold, comes to a similar conclusion, “How could one rejoice in the truth, when it was so terrible, so hurtful,”…but then she realizes the opportunity of clear vision. Ellie has a chance to reflect on the mistakes of her marriage and the opportunity to rebuild her life and this is truly a gift and a chance for fuller more satisfying life. With clear vision, you can correct your mistakes you can change directions and move to the right path. Once on the right path, you have a chance at a full life with an abundant harvest of good fruit. Ellie decides to embark on this journey and does not regret the decision. She finds friends and family who also rejoice unabashedly in the truth. Love and joy blossom from these new relationships, where she is not judged but loved for who she is. Together they are the church: a small community of believers who stand in the truth.
Post divorce, I have found the quest for the truth to be a challenge. People are often dysfunctional more than they are functional. At work, at home, at church, I still see the human pattern of dishonesty in myself and others. Christians however should embody love by, “rejoicing in the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6) or at least we are supposed to. So what does that mean exactly? As the world around us continues down it’s path of dishonesty, Christians must continue down the path of following Jesus. It is a space before God where truth, love, and joy abide together. The truth is often terrible as we look with clear vision at the destructive nature of sin both in ourselves and the world around us, but once we have found that honest and humble space before the Lord, his response is not judgement, but love and acceptance.
Like me, you too may have wondered in your most private and secret thoughts if anyone saw the real you, the you without makeup, the stripped down, no bells and whistles you, could anyone of rational mind ever love you? The answer before Jesus is always an unequivocal, yes. All my life I searched for unconditional love in the dregs of a failed marriage, at church, and from my family, but the first time I really felt loved fully was when I was finally able to let go of my intense need to look and be perfect. It was the moment I confessed the truth about my marriage and allowed God to shape my life. God allowed me to forgive others, but also to forgive myself for failing and not living up to the image of myself. It was the one thing I had worked so hard to build and preserve and it was exactly what I had to let go. Love lives with the truth. If someone loves you, but they don’t really know you, they don’t love you at all. They love the image or idol you’ve created. The truth is I didn’t really know who my husband was, but he didn’t really know me either. I spent so much time smoothing the edges and hiding the wrinkles, I became unrecognizable to myself. God does not want a relationship with a fake person. He wants you, the real you and you know what? Nothing feels better than that.
