“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
