A Ramble About Divorce

My family history is complicated. I was thinking about it last night as my wife and I were talking. In a very real way I am a product of divorce, and in more than one way.

My maternal biological grandfather was married once before my grandmother. To my knowledge, that first marriage ended in divorce (although I don't know the circumstances) and he married my grandmother. He later died at the end of World War II when my grandmother was still pregnant with my mother. My paternal grandmother was married twice. To my knowledge, her first marriage ended in divorce, and my grandmother later married my paternal grandfather. My father was born and around ten years later my grandfather divorced my grandmother and moved across the country. My parents divorced when I was seven. Both of my sisters have gone through divorces. The impact of these events on our family, among other things, shaped it into the state it is in today.

Divorce is an ugly thing. Truth is, I can't even comprehend separating from my wife under those circumstances. She's such a part of who I am it would be like ripping away the best part of myself. I would be horribly incomplete without her, and to imagine it under those circumstances is, well... unimaginable.

Divorce is painful to everyone going through it, and it has a ripple effect that radiates outward. But it does happen. Sometimes, as much as many would like to deny it possible, there are very good reasons for it. Sometimes, as much as some would like to deny it, there aren't. There is an opinion within some quarters of the Church that somehow divorced people are less than, unredeemable, or second class citizens. They are forbidden from entering the clergy, taking communion, or are simply discussed behind their backs.

Another person in my life who has been divorced is God. Sound surprising? It surprised me too when a pastor I know brought it up years ago when I was sitting in his congregation. But the Holy Scriptures are clear on this. God Himself says it:

Thus says Yahweh, “Where is the bill of your mother’s divorce, with which I have put her away? or which of my creditors is it to whom I have sold you? Behold, for your iniquities were you sold, and for your transgressions was your mother put away. (Isaiah 50:1, WEB)

Contend with your mother! Contend, for she is not my wife, neither am I her husband; and let her put away her prostitution from her face, and her adulteries from between her breasts; (Hosea 2:2, WEB)

I saw, when, for this very cause that backsliding Israel had committed adultery, I had put her away and given her a bill of divorce, yet treacherous Judah, her sister, didn’t fear; but she also went and played the prostitute. (Jeremiah 3:8, WEB)

It was a bitter, ugly, nasty divorce that is spelled out in all it's gory detail over the pages of the Old Testament prophets. He hates divorce, yes. But I imagine anyone who's been through it shares the same sentiment, and never wants to repeat the experience. In some churches, God Himself would be excommunicate, forbidden from ministry, and talked about in the back pews in whispers.

It's never a good thing to pass judgment on someone for being divorced (or anything else for that matter). We may not like the actions taken, but I imagine that we would like it even less if we were in their shoes and being presented with the same choices. Maybe we would make the same decisions. Maybe we wouldn't. Maybe we really don't want to be in a position to find out.

As I reflected back on the divorces in my family, I realized that if they hadn't occurred then I wouldn't have been born. Neither would my children have been born. I can't ever characterize a divorce as a “good” thing. But sometimes bad things have to happen in order for good things to grow. When things decay and die they fertilize soil, and provide food for plants to grow in. Sometimes they fertilize weeds and thorns. Sometimes they fertilize flowers and fruit trees. It depends on how you manage the ground it fertilizes. People die. Relationships die. One's beliefs and faith sometimes dies. One's hopes for the future or ties to the past also die. These things decay and we have to work with the ground they fertilize.