The abandoned wife in your community has experienced the trust-destroying damage of unkept promises. The ground beneath her feet feels shaky as she questions who to trust. The most life-giving gift to give her is the full counsel of Scripture. 

The grass withers, the flowers fade,
but the word of our God remains forever.
(Isaiah 40:8)

Her marriage withered, her vows faded, but the word of her God remains forever. It is vitally important for you to remind her that the Word of God is unchanging & trustworthy. 

God is not a man that he may lie, or a son of man that he might change his mind…
(Num 23:19)

I struggle with these words. 

You see, I have trust issues. I loved a man who lied and changed his mind and It made me question everyone in my life. Are they being honest? Will they leave too?

And when I look to God, it’s nearly impossible not to sling the same questions at him.  God, are you lying to me? Are you going to walk away too?

Sometimes the ground beneath my feet feels impossibly fragile–like a sheet of glass. One misstep & the whole thing might crack. And life feels all the more vulnerable when the calendar flips to a new year. Can I actually go another round? Will my burdens weigh down so much that cracks begin to form beneath me? I feel wobbly in January.

Sunday, December 1st, will mark the 8th anniversary of my marriage shattering. I have a tradition of setting my alarm for December 1st with the label: YOU SURVIVED. And it’s true. We have.

Our God is WITH us. He chose to dwell with us.
He is God of the lowly and cast down.

If you’re feeling at a loss to know what to pray for the woman walking through an unwanted divorce, could I point you towards Psalm 138:8? This verse is a treasure and praying it over a woman walking through marital breakdown will be a hope-filled and powerful gift.

There is a profound gashing of a soul that happens in rejection. When our very personhood and value are cast aside, it’s very hard to rewire our brains to believe that not everyone feels the same about us.

My pain will not have the final say. My grief can only ever go so far. My life on earth may be filled to the brim with sorrow, but one day it will reach a limit where it can tread no further. There are gates to a holy city, where my Jesus prepares a place for me. In his presence, there will be no more tears and no more pain. My grief will reach a boundary it may not cross.

My soul, bless the Lord...
Oh weary soul of mine, choose today to bless the Lord. Choose to lift your cast-down gaze, your fatigue, your heaviness, and your grief to the Lord who is so near. Your heart will lighten as you praise. It makes no sense, but a sacred exchange happens in the heavenly places when you praise from the bottom of the pit. 

The Church is the very body of Christ–His hands, feet, arms, ears, eyes. And as that Body comes together under the Head, Jesus, the battle against despair and hopelessness is waged. What a high and sacred calling the Church has!

I pray you will know that Jesus is your greatest Treasure. I pray that you will lay down your hurt, your anger, your grief and your questions and know that Jesus is enough. I pray you will lay down all your heart is running after to fill the broken places and know that Jesus is enough. I pray that you will look at your life, not through the lens of what you’ve lost, but what you’ve gained.

Christ Jesus is the greatest Treasure in all the universe. He is the image and radiance of God the Father (Col 1:15, Heb 1:3). In him, all the fullness of God resides (Col 2:9). He is the Firstborn over all creation and Creator of all things (Col 1:15-16). He is King of kings, Lord of lords (Rev 19:16), Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end (Rev 21:13). He is exalted above all (Phil 2:9). 

And believer, He is our’s, forevermore.

So if this is true, if this Treasure is truly mine—a free gift given to me by a Father who loves me eternally—why do I often feel so empty, so lacking? 

There is a heaviness here. 
The storm-tossed and heavy-laden sit beside us. 
Her sighs and tear-soaked face tell a deeper story than words ever could. 
Oh Father, hold her near.

Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest...

The anxieties are heavy. And the trek is so hard. And I am seriously weary. 

But the Bible tells me to cast all of that on to Jesus (1 Peter 5:7). We are told to hurl all our bags of worries and anxieties onto Jesus. 

Why?

Rest came easy for me. I lived in a safe house. My finances were reliable. Plans were in place for retirement and my future. Sleep came easy because the patterns and rhythms of my life were normal and stable.

But with the breaking of my marriage came the loss of easy rest.

We are a community of treasure seekers.

We have sifted through the ashes of shattered marriages and broken dreams to find beauty. 

And oh, how we’ve found it, haven’t we?

When I spend Saturday all alone and the halls of my home feel hauntingly quiet, you are my True Rest. 

When fears won’t ease and provision for our future feels thin as glass, you are my True Rest. 

When it feels like the darkness and grief will never lift, you are my True Rest. 

Oh, dear Shepherd of my soul, you are my True Rest. In you alone do I find peace. 

When I learned of my husband’s infidelity, it felt like I was on the side of the road, my heart bleeding out, noise, chaos, trauma confusion, pain—so much pain. A small number of people jumped out of their cars, ran towards me (literally—dropped work, got on airplanes, raced to get to me). They were the ones who worked to calm the chaos, triage the immediate pain, hold me while I sobbed and surveyed the loss.

But most were onlookers...

Do you carry a story of rejection? Maybe it feels like there is a banner over your head declaring that you are UNWANTED, UNLOVED, REJECTED? Rejection carries tones of shame that cannot be covered over easily. It infects us, down to the very core.

Did you know you’re not alone?

Five weeks after my husband’s unfaithfulness was exposed, I lost everything. First came my shattering, then came the great unraveling. Everything started to fall apart before my eyes...