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 The pain of divorce is unlike any other. Innocent children are swept up in a tide of fear, pain, guilt and grief—not knowing what to do—but desperately looking for relief. I remember when my youngest son asked me, “Why did you and mom have to get a divorce?” I tried to answer him the best that I could, but my answer left him with an empty, sad, and angry feeling. He later said, “Divorce sucks.” I agreed. When I relived any good memories, they would just get buried beneath the pain and grief of the divorce. I remember so many of my prayers at night ending with tears. At times, I would even express my anger to God—wondering why He couldn’t help my children cope with their pain.
In Luke 7 there is the story about the prostitute who went to a banquet where Jesus was dining. She was standing next to Jesus, not saying a word, but overwhelmed with grief. While she was crying, the Pharisees were horrified. They knew her problems and wanted her removed from the banquet. To this, Jesus said, “People who are forgiven much, love much. People who are forgiven little, love little.” Like the prostitute, I walked the path of shame, guilt, worthlessness, forgiveness, healing and restoration. “Thou oh Lord, are the lifter of my head.” Like the prostitute, this divine transformation caused my life to change to a new boldness. I left the life of the shamed and found a new joy. I was forgiven much and I can now love much.
The pain of divorce
Like a leg that did sever.
That which was cherished
Now gone forever.
Living in the past
When my life became
A living death
Of grief and pain.
“Remember when…”
A voice would echo;
But memories were buried
In coldness of snow.
“Lord, please take
This burden away;
My children are hurting
Don’t let their pain stay.
My children are hurting!
Don’t you hear my prayer?
Can’t You do something
Don’t You even care?”
The door was slammed,
The locks were latched.
I was left in silence
With wounds to patch.
Swept up by a tide
Of grief and pain;
Helpless to help
My children again.
Though divorce begins
In Calvary;
It need not end
In misery.
I believe in the sun
When it doesn’t shine;
I believe in God
In my most difficult time.
When doors slammed shut,
And I waited and listened;
My gift of faith
Found hope that was missing.
In my lonely silence,
God’s whisper was heard.
In painful emptiness;
Transformation assured.
For out of the still
Of night’s lonely pain
God’s tender love
Was my soul’s gain.
From the weight of my fears
And hearts that were broken
Came a fiery passion
For voices unspoken.
Though my leg did sever
I can stand very tall
For I have been given
New life from my fall.
poem by Dean Robinson
e-mail him at drobinson@sebesta.com |
