I don’t talk about my previous marriage that much anymore. In fact, many of you may not even realize that I wasn’t always married to the wonderful man I am now. I have an ex-husband, and I’ve been divorced. I don’t talk about it much presently because it’s a pain I’ve moved past, or rather God has redeemed me, healed me, and given me a new life. But last night as I considered the topic I wanted to write about, this seemed like the perfect example.
I can still recall one Tuesday night sitting with a group of women from my church. We were discussing forgiveness, and at that moment my heart was completely wrecked. I cried snotty tears to the ladies around me as I confessed, “I hate him! I just hate him!”
It hadn’t started as hate, as I suppose most feelings evolve over time. When my ex-husband first came home and told me he didn’t love me anymore I didn’t hate him; I was hurt, and I suppose that’s how most hate forms. It arrives on the wings of hurt. That night that I cried out for prayer from my friends at church was probably eight years past the day he came home and shattered my false reality that all was well, and in that time I had been through every emotion possible. I had been through the devastation that my marriage was falling apart, and then an acceptance that I couldn’t change things or make him happy. I had gone through a period of being friends, being cool, and moving on all nonchalant. Then I had also gone through a period of eye-opening where I not only realized my own faults, but also finally saw clearly just how unhealthy our relationship had been.
Somewhere in between the rediscovery of my own self-worth and the regret of past decisions made I became angry at him. Then as time continued my realization of a contaminated marriage, coupled with a lack of relationship with Jesus that I had dwelled in, I just got more and more mad. It wasn’t right, but somehow my heart filled with hate for this man. In my eyes he had hurt me, rejected me, and wasted years of my life that I couldn’t get back. There was more to it than that, but bringing up the specifics now of how I felt wronged and wounded would serve no purpose other than to reopen the cuts I have prayed hard to close. The point is, after years of trying to move on I was stuck in a rut of unforgiveness.
Matthew 22:36-40 (NIV)