Something Broke. We Chose Not to Look.

Sometimes it’s frightening how many of us choose silence over admitting when something is deeply wrong.

The Chernobyl disaster was one of the most horrendous environmental catastrophes of the twentieth century, and much of it could have been avoided if those watching the signs of the nuclear plant’s destabilization had been willing to admit something was broken instead of maintaining the illusion that nothing was wrong.

Plant operators feared the loss of their jobs, the demotion of social status, or the disciplinary reach of powerful military and government bureaucrats if they failed to tell authorities exactly what they wanted to hear. Their silence allowed the tragedy to escalate into destruction that still affects that region today.

The story is a reminder that truth rarely tells us what we want to hear, but almost always what we need to hear.

My marriage wasn’t quite Chernobyl, but I felt a similar pressure to protect the status quo. Admitting that my Christian marriage was on the rocks to a family that saw marriage as a sacred sacrament felt like admitting I had failed Christianity 101.

Ironically, my long road through marriage, infidelity, and divorce became the most refining season of my faith because I did not have a brush with the truth. I had a collision with it. That collision saved my life. Sometimes collisions are exactly what we need to grow in resilience and faith.

The biblical phrase, “the truth will set you free,” is often quoted but rarely understood. In context, it is spoken to believers who must first recognize with clarity and honesty the things in their own lives that enslave them. Many people do not realize they are in bondage. Our worst vices can look respectable, even friendly, on the surface. Spiritual awareness brings what is hidden into the light.

All of us need to make room for the truth, even when it’s ugly.

This is easier said than done.

It is perfectly human to want to avoid pain, awkwardness, ugliness, and suffering. That is what most of us are doing when we turn away from the truth to stay comfortable. Ironically, avoiding pain often becomes the worst kind of pain.

As I did everything I could to cling to what I wanted to be true rather than what my husband was showing me through his actions, I set myself up for the worst kind of fall. I had seen the signs but refused to believe them. They were too ugly to imagine, so I simply did not imagine them.

I shoved suspicious thoughts to the back of my mind and clung to what made me feel good.

I’m a writer. I’m very good at spinning narratives. But if you feed a delusion, you eventually reach the place where the delusion meets its limits, where the truth is too big to ignore.

When we pray for godly wisdom, it can be a double edged sword. Wisdom comes at a cost, and that cost is the stripping away of our comfortable illusions so we can see clearly. Without this clarity, we simply flounder in the dark.

When I was able to see my husband not with hatred and anger, but with spiritual honesty, I realized the truth: the marriage could not stand, because he did not want it to stand.

I thought I would crumble after losing what I had built my life around, but I didn’t.

The expectations and illusions I had wrapped around my faith were not true faith. I was forced to rebuild my life around something better, and this became the turning point where my life grew richer day by day.

Healing has been a long road, and I’ve learned a great deal along the way. Life is messy. Even in blessed circumstances, it’s a mess. This no longer fazes me.

Treasure hunters know that great treasures are not easy to find. They are hidden in dark places, buried under the dust of centuries.

Likewise, the greatest nuggets of wisdom in our lives are concealed in the darkest corners. We will never find them if we’re too afraid to look.

If this resonates with you, I write often about the quiet places where faith, truth, and real life collide.

You can read more here: What Feminine Empowerment Books Don’t Tell You

I also explore these same themes through the novels I write for women walking through hard seasons of faith, doubt, and rebuilding.