Rejected

What a day this has been!  I awoke with the old feeling of dread and fear of another day of pain and suffering.  I had no idea of the miracle God was going to give to me.  For twelve years, I had sought healing from doctors, priests, anyone who offered a tiny ray of hope.  I was still bleeding.  Lately I had been hearing rumors of a man, Jesus, Who had healed people of all sorts of diseases and infirmities.  There were even reports that He had bought people back from the dead.  I didn’t know what to think.  Could this be true?

I crawled out of bed and slowly dressed.  It took so much effort that I wasn’t sure I could make the journey to find this Jesus.  My desire for healing gave me a determination I had never felt before.  As I inched my way through the streets, I listened as people talked about finding the Rabbi and I quickly joined the search for Him.  As we moved thought the streets, more people fell in with us.

I noticed people around me were pushing into the center of the mob trying to touch a Man dressed in simple homespun clothes.  He looked like an ordinary man but I wanted to believe He could heal me so I made my way through the crowd.  I hoped I could go unnoticed as I reached out and gently touched the fringe of His garment.  A burst of sunshine exploded inside of me and I knew the bleeding had stopped.  Suddenly He turned and said, “Who touched Me?” 

I began to tremble.  What would He think of me?  Would He rebuke me for disturbing Him?  I fell down before Him and told Him that I was the one who had touched Him.  I whispered, “and, Master, I have been healed.”  He gazed at me with a tenderness I had never seen before and spoke in a quiet voice.  “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

My Paraphrase of Mark 5:25-34

This is how I begin my testimony.  I wrote the above paraphrase because I so identify with this woman.  It comes from a moment I when I was 12 years old and overheard a comment made when we were moving to another town because of a family crisis. What was said doesn’t matter.  It didn’t have a thing to do with me.  However, in my young mind, I interpreted the comment to mean that I was responsible for our family's misfortune.  I know now that isn’t what was meant.  But at that moment, without realizing it, I detached myself from life.  I kept on breathing but my lifeblood, my passions, my joy, began to seep out of my body.  The hemorrhage, while tiny, had begun.

Move forward 7 years:

In the fall of 1970, I met a dairy farmer at the the University of Kentucky  We became friends and then he asked me on a date.  I couldn’t believe that this nice looking, church-going guy wanted to date me.  We were engaged in April, both dropped out of school, and were married in July.  In less than a year, I found myself married and living in a small trailer on a dairy farm.

I enjoyed farm life; living in the country, working with the animals.  I enjoyed being a wife although there were times when something just didn’t seem right.  The hemorrhage that had begun as tiny droplets so many years ago was about to become a major blood loss.

My husband used psychological and emotional abuse to take over my life, to conform me to his beliefs, ideas, and ways. He was not physically abusive but my son said that although he never   hit me, he used intimidation to control me.  I was scared of making him angry so I did whatever it took to keep him happy.

We looked like the perfect Christian family.  He was a deacon, I was in the choir, we both taught SS, and we were at our small rural church every time the doors were opened.

After suffering a miscarriage in 1972, I gave birth to a son in May 1973.  A second son was born in December 1975 and a daughter in November 1976.  By December 1976, before I was 26 years old, I had a 2 ½ year old, a 1 year old, and a newborn.  

Over the next 32 years, I experienced floods, droughts, tornadoes, a fire that destroyed our dairy barn, bankruptcy, surgeries, and the deaths of my mom and dad.  Through the years my fear of my husband grew.  It became normal; just the way life was. 

I've been asked me why I stayed. I didn’t believe in divorce except for biblical grounds.  Also, I didn’t realize I was being abused.  It's like the story of the frog placed in a kettle of cold water.  A fire is lit and the water slowly heats until the frog is boiled alive.  The change is slow and insidious.  My lifeblood continued to seep out of me.

This next stage of my life is strange but I see God’s hand of protection on me.  I wasn’t ready to be where I am today.  I needed time.  I needed to be desperate.  I needed God to be my only source of help and hope.

Christmas of 1993 my husband suddenly announced he wanted a divorce.  No reason, no explanation.  My worst fear was coming true. My security, my identity was in being married.  I was losing that and I didn’t understand why.  I was lost.  We were divorced in May of 1994.

We lived in my husband's home place so my daughter and I moved into town. This is when I truly began seeking a deep and personal relationship with God.  Just a seed was planted in my prayers and desperate cries to Him.  In my quiet moments with God He led me to write a letter to my husband which started us talking.  I believed God would restore my marriage and we remarried in October.  

Did things change in my marriage?  No, he was still abusive.  Had I changed?  Yes.  I continued to seek a deeper, more personal relationship with God and He honored my search.  I was still bleeding, but like the woman with the issue of blood, I wanted relief.  I was also praying that my husband would become the man of God I knew he could be.

In 1995, he began driving a tractor-trailer.  In 1996 we purchased our own tractor-trailer and went on the road together off and on for a few years.  There were good times but the fear never left.

In December of 2002 I came under the conviction of the Holy Spirit to be a better wife.  I began making an effort to honor, respect, and submit to my husband.  He became distant.  I believed it was because God was working on him but the result was not what I envisioned.

Our daughter became engaged on Christmas Eve.  They set the wedding date for May. On April 4, 2003, my husband came home and took me out for pizza.  We went home, he sat me down at the kitchen table and unemotionally said words that changed my life forever.  He told me that for the last 20 years he had cheated on me with several long-term affairs and many one-night stands.  He said it was my, his parents, and God’s fault, and God had told him to divorce me. This was 6 days before my birthday and 1 month before our daughter's wedding.  This devastating wound created a gushing blood loss unlike any I had ever experienced.  I didn't know that God would use this wound to restore and revitalize my life.

Family and friends gathered round me. A friend invited me to stay in her basement as I concentrated on the wedding. The day after my daughter started her new life, with the support of my sister, family, and friends, I began seeking God's plan for my new life.

This is the story of how I was rejected by the person who had promised to love and honor me in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death did us part.  

The story of the One who does keeps His promises to restore and revitalize lives to be continued: