From Fear to Faith

“All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.” Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton, a journalist-turned-poet plagued with depression, built her figurative fences in an attempt to keep her nightmares out. I built my fences to keep the nightmares in.

To the average passerby, I was living the perfect life- I’d graduated college, built a career and married the love of my life. After four years of marriage, my husband and I began trying for our first child. It was the white picket fence life, but behind the safety of that fence was anything but perfection.

I had one year of marital bliss and what followed was years of pain. The inside of my white picket fence became stained and splintered with each angry word, each unveiled secret and lie and each drunken night of mistreatment; but every day I’d wake up, paint a smile on my face and make sure the outside of my fence remained in pristine, whitewashed condition, always giving the appearance of the perfect, happy couple. Until in what would be my last year of marriage, my perfect lie came crashing down as I suffered the trauma of an unfaithful husband, the pain of two miscarriages, the heartache of divorce and a life far off the beaten path of perfection. The white picket fence was an illusion and my nightmares were exposed.

I wish I could say that every day I asked myself, “How did I get here?” But I didn't. I didn't ask, because I knew. With one choice, with one denial of the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I set in motion what would later be the consequences of my own sin. 

As I look back at my wedding, I cringe. My mom and I like to joke now that maybe it was a sign when I thought the cake was ugly or that there was a huge snowstorm that delayed rehearsal and guests’ arrivals. We joke, but in all honesty, we serve a tenacious God and as I was racing for the aisle I’m sure he was throwing up caution flags at every turn and giving me every opportunity to STOP. As I stood with my dad at the top of the steps into the foyer outside the sanctuary of my church, it was like an out of body experience for me. I can see myself standing there and I can hear the words, “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay to walk away.” But I couldn't. It was as if I was frozen.

I am skilled in the craft of argument and debate and a voice of reason inside of me weighed every earthly matter in just a matter of seconds as the processional music began: the money my parents had spent, the distance family had traveled, the disappointment of everyone in my life for going this far and walking away, and above all, the love I had for my fiance; because I did love him. He had so much good in his heart. He was the person that would do anything for his friend. And he had this freedom about him, such a carefree attitude that balanced my obsessive need for order; a spontaneity that challenged me. He always said how he loved my smile; I didn't, but I loved smiling, and he could make me smile with just one look. We had this passion for one another that I thought I would never experience with anyone else. With all of these things waiting for me in the sanctuary, I just couldn't walk away. And in just those few seconds, I told my heavenly Father no and chose fear over faith. (Side note- If there’s one thing I could tell young women today it is this: no matter how much passion a man has for you, it will never make up for the passion he lacks in his relationship with Jesus Christ.) 

I knew Ryan and I were unequally yoked. I knew how we had stumbled throughout the entirety of our relationship and I knew how it had always been me leading. Yet I was a skilled debater. I looked at God’s outline, grabbed one of his bullet points and used it to build my own case. Marriage is from God, I told myself, so surely he would bless this union. Ryan believes and if I just keep praying he will catch up. I chose to reason away the Holy Spirit and instead of listening to my Father’s voice, all I saw before me was fear. Instead of doing what God was calling me to do I chose to follow my own plan and drove down the first post of my white picket fence.

I’m not the first woman to follow my own plan instead of God’s, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. As I struggled with the decision I made in the years to follow that day, I often felt drawn to the character of Sarah as she struggled in her walk of faith.

God had promised Abraham and Sarah that they would have offspring as numerous as the stars in the sky and through them God’s people would be blessed. God had a perfect plan for Sarah but as the reality of life faced her, fear crept in. She was beyond child-bearing years and her time still hadn't come. I know that feeling, what it’s like to wait and wait to be a mother, to long for the moment you can hold and nurture your child. I know the tears that pour out with each passing month, and even more, the doubt that floods in. When it came to be too much, when the fear was larger than her faith, Sarah created her own plan.

“Go and sleep with my servant. Perhaps I can have children through her,” Genesis 16:2

As the trials of life surrounded her, Sarah’s focus wasn't on the joy of fulfilling God’s plan for His people but on her immediate desire for motherhood. She took matters into her own hand and gave her servant Hagar to Abraham. With one decision, came many consequences. She blamed Hagar, she blamed Abraham, and she even blamed God for the mess that followed. But thankfully that wasn't Sarah’s legacy. God saw past her flaws of fear to her future faith; though her faith was weak, we discover in Hebrews 11:11 that it developed into something incredibly powerful:

“By faith even Sarah herself received the ability to conceive, even beyond the proper time of life, since she considered Him faithful who had promised.”

There are always going to be moments in our lives where we are faced with a choice to do right but the possible consequences may fill us with fear. Praise God that He forgives us for those moments of weakness when we choose fear over faith. Praise Him that He doesn't see us for just who we are in that moment but for whom He destined us to be. The pain I suffered because of my marriage doesn't have to be my legacy; my divorce doesn't have to be my legacy. God didn't prevent Sarah from making a poor decision; He didn't prevent me from making one either. He allowed it to happen and He’s used it. Our faith is a journey. And I hope that my faith journey follows the path of Sarah's.

“Thus Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, and you have become her children if you do what is right without being frightened by any fear.” 1 Peter 3:6