Shameful Secrets
In a marriage, the pathway to infidelity is really a gateway to more secrets and more lies. Whether you’re the cheater or the injured party, both spouses enter a world where it feels necessary to lie and prevaricate at every turn. I became a liar because I didn’t want people to know the truth about my marriage. I was a pastor’s wife and a pastor myself. The reality of my husband’s infidelity undermined the image of the perfect family we had both worked so hard to craft. I was prideful. I believed we were a happy family, but there were cracks in the facade that I chose to ignore because they didn’t fit the narrative I wanted. My ex had been crying out in pain in various ways for several years. I chose to believe everything was alright. I rationalized that he was just dramatic, a depressant. He was partially those things, but there was something more that I didn’t want to see. I’m not really sure what I could have done differently, but I do believe pride kept me from seeing the vulnerabilities in our marriage. I secretly did not believe I was the kind of woman, a man would cheat on. I was above that. There was so much I didn’t really understand about infidelity before it happened to me. Rarely is it the case that a man cheats on a woman because she is not attractive enough. He is most likely not even thinking about his wife much at all, but his own wounds and pain, his own unbelievable hunger for affirmation that he believes can only be solved in the arms of another woman. The one thing I feel sure of is when a person cheats in the midst of a decade or longer marriage, it comes from a deep place of pain and insecurity. Those who step out on the marriage rarely find more than a temporary distraction and they pay a high cost for its fleeting pleasures. Everyone pays the cost. Infidelity is yet another sign of the deep brokenness that lives in all of us, the brokenness we work so hard to disguise. In the case of my marriage, I chose to lie because the truth was painful, too painful to bear and under the light of the truth, our marriage could not survive.
I did not cheat in my marriage, but I did lie. While my marriage was falling apart, I pretended everything was okay. I kept my friends and family distant, my conversations superficial. I pretended that I was doing these things to protect my children and my husband, but I was protecting myself from the horrible shame of revealing the truth about my marriage. I was the kind of woman a man would cheat on. I was the classic hypocrite, a certifiable mess. While I was teaching others how to live, my own life was a red-tag disaster zone. As months passed, I began to feel the bondage of my lies. My husband and I were separated and my sons only knew shades of the truth. I had no true intimacy with friends or family because I felt like I could not tell them. I have never been more alone in my life, like being sealed in a coffin at my own funeral. The voices of loved ones were all around me, but I was unable to tell them I was really alive inside a sealed wooden box.
The truth is central to Christian faith. In John 8:32 Jesus says, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The Gospel truth is the belief that Jesus is our savior and that following Him with our full hearts frees us from the bondage of sin. Jesus took his disciples on an unlikely road to freedom, one that led to a cross where he was brutally crucified. Yet, Jesus rose from the cross and conquered sin and death. He went willingly through the heart of the storm and came out on the other side triumphant. This story seems incredibly harsh and brutal to some, but as I grow older, I recognize that we spend much of our lives trying to avoid pain and suffering. Often our attempts to avoid suffering actually lead to more intense pain and struggle. If Jesus had avoided the cross, would he have lived a pain free idyllic existence? Considering his moral strength and courage, I doubt Jesus could have avoided his cross. In fact, all of us, on account of our frail humanity are journeying towards a place of suffering of some kind. Our deep desire to avoid the realities of our mortal bodies to protect ourselves might save us pain in the short term, but not from the inevitable. I lied in my marriage to save my pride, but I prolonged my agony and alienation. Did I come out ahead? The joys of intimacy, deep love, and friendship could not be experienced when I was hiding the most significant struggle in my life from the eyes of my friends and family.
In the midst of my unraveling marriage, it was difficult for me to believe that the truth could set me free. From where I stood, I could only imagine the truth exposing me for the fraud I really was. I saw the truth as a road to shame and humiliation. But I was wrong. Speaking the truth to those I loved was my path forward. I finally understood the obsession with confession promoted by my Catholic friends. I needed to tell someone the truth, someone who loved me and cared about me. I realized that I could not have true intimacy with anyone without honesty. Fear stood in my way. I was afraid people would think less of me. I would lose their respect, the respect of everyone. But that isn’t what happened.
When I finally began to confess my struggles openly and honestly with family and friends over time, the shame and humiliation I expected didn’t come, at least not from the people who mattered to me. What I got instead, was shared sympathy as loved ones began to confess their own pains and struggles honestly with me. This was the grace I had heard so much about, but never really experienced. Somehow honesty and humility created an environment where true love could blossom and grow. In fact, the relationships that grow from shared struggle and pain in the pursuit of growth and goodness, will be the the best relationships of your life. As I felt led to finally tell my shameful secrets, I will also add that I felt an equally powerful spiritual conviction that I not cast my husband as the villain in the story. This was easy to do and a seductive temptation, but this man was also the father of my children. I prayed constantly about walking the line between truth and sweet malicious revenge. My thoughts led me continually back to Paul’s words in Romans 3:23. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” As I share aspects of my experience with you, I want you to know that I believe the best we can do for those who hurt us is to recognize their struggles and pray for their good. Since I am no innocent myself, I know there are people who I have also hurt and I need grace too. We all do.
