Growing up, the only real item on my bucket list was to be a dad, not just any dad, but like my dad. So, imagine my state of distress when I got divorced about 20 years ago and had no children. Every lesson at church, every aspiration, much encouragement from family all seemed to center around starting a family and raising children, children that it now looks like I will never have. It’s not for lack of trying. I was married, and I have proposed to three other women since then. Most of you didn’t know that until today.
Divorce shatters many things. It shatters illusions. It shatters expectations. It shatters confidence. It shatters hope. It shatters faith. For so many people who go into relationships with integrity and good intentions, it’s one of the greatest forms of betrayal. You kneel across an altar from someone who promises before God and witnesses to love you no matter what. They promise you the moon and then, for some reason, they give you the boot instead.
So my life shifted, and my life drifted. In the aftermath, it cost me so much money, that I initially had trouble eking out an existence. In the aftermath, since I was in graduate school at the time, it truncated opportunities and compromised others. In the aftermath, I found that women were unwilling to “risk” anything on me because I had a “failed” marriage; few bothered to find out why it failed. Eventually I ended up in academia because it was the only place I could find work, and I stayed because economic recessions made it unwise to leave and ultimately, I was unqualified to go anywhere else.
One thing didn’t change. I kept my faith and hope somehow, not just when I got divorced but also when my proposals were rejected. Despite the fact that there was no safety net in my Faith for men who get divorced, I continued to attend church and do what I could. At first, because of my marital status, they were reticent to ask me to do ANYTHING until I moved to Henderson and my uncle was made my bishop. He knew me and knew that I was more than the things that happened to me. That faith and trust bred other options later as I moved and Bishops saw that I had held callings, ultimately leading to my service a few years ago in a bishopric. I started holding “family home evening” in 2015 despite the fact that my only family was a dog. One bishop in Summerlin remarked how remarkable it was to see me sing hymns without a hymnbook and attend each week despite the fact that nobody would notice or be impressed or shame me if I didn’t come. He told me he knew that’s how I had a testimony because otherwise I would have found a reason to quit church and eventually to quit Christ.
I wrestled a lot with feelings of remorse, inadequacy and failure. Women didn’t want to be with a “failure”, and I didn’t like that I had "failed". I have trouble seeing any of my knowledge, skills and abilities as anything spectacular, so I don’t really act like I have a lot to offer. I know that in general we’re all equivalently if not equally endowed with gifts from God, and so mine might be different, but they are not superior. What ultimately got me to think differently was when my dog got cancer and fought to stay alive for as long as he could. If he was willing to put up with the pain and the bleeding, then there must be something wonderful enough about me to justify that.
That watershed moment opened my eyes to Christ too. He also fought to stay alive and put up with pain and bleeding for ME. My dog was a reminder that my Father God had neither forsaken nor forgotten me. “ Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.” Isaiah 49:16
I still don’t really feel like I have much to show or much about which to brag. My life is largely unspectacular except to a happy few students who express gratitude each semester. Since they never talk to me again unless they need a letter of recommendation, I don’t really trust their affirmations. However, I think back on the love of my dog and how he reflected the love of my God and realize that he was the best reflection of how God feels about me of which a dog is capable. So, I must have something to offer, even if my wife and other potential candidates for marriage chose to see other things in me.
My life looks vastly different from where I thought it would go and prepared for it to go. I have been single for many years. I haven’t even been on a date for over a decade. I am employed but not appreciated, needed but not desired, utilized but not included, and acknowledged but not chosen by nearly all the women I know. However, there are dogs on the various routes where I jog each morning who try to talk to me, who come to the fence so I can pet them, and who are excited to see me. So maybe one day there will be a God who welcomes me back, even if I walk alone. People may not choose me, but I know that Christ chose to bleed for my sins and rise from the dead so that He could lift me up. And that’s why I thank my Father God.
No comments:
Post a Comment