Marriage : Love in Thunder

Part Three

The great news about having a mental breakdown or crisis of faith is it allows for some self-inventory. There were no more excuses, no more faking it or side stepping. My rage run turned into a baby pilgrimage home and not in the physical sense. I was ready to return to the basics, deconstruct my line of thinking to see where things were going wrong. What was the question Larry asked in our session earlier that day? Well he asked if I could repeat what Lucas had said. He was wondering if I heard what he said, not listened, heard. Meaning, did I understand Lucas’ heart? This is where the anger and hatred rested because I didn’t feel understood or heard myself.

Head down and trudging through puddles and geese poop, I made the last curve along the walking path next to Lake Washington before I’d turn west, back into the neighborhood. Tip toeing around another landmine, a thought crystallized and became clearer with each step. I was having a hard time listening. Not just to Lucas but to everyone, including God. My loneliness wasn’t the fault of anyone, it was my failure to hear, to receive.

Thanks geese, that concentration helped.

I wish I could say I went home and talked things out with Lucas, took the time to listen and repeat back to him what I heard. I didn’t. I went home and sulked some more because I’m more stubborn than I realize. In fact I sat with this new thought for over a month. I delayed reaching out to any of the counselors Larry had referred me to. I was angry and felt justified in my hatred. Anger is a powerful drug, ironically it gave me the illusion of control, when I was very out of control. I recently read through some of my old writings and came across an entry I wrote at the time, the following is from February 27, 2018. 

God, I REALLY don’t like you right now. I really don’t like what you have done to my family. What you did to my home. What you are doing in my marriage. What happened in my church. I really don’t like what is happening to your bride right now. I don’t like the culture, time and generation you put me in. I am sorry I am not grateful. I am sorry I cannot see the blessings and be thankful. I am sorry that right now I just hurt and I really don’t want to be loved. 

God, I really don’t trust you. I don’t trust that you change peoples’ hearts. I don’t trust that you can perform miracles and heal marriages. That you can heal mental health or that you want to turn people from sin. I don’t trust your plan or that it is good. Everything about it tastes bad and is ugly. Your people are cruel and your body is decaying. 

These are the truths in my heart. Father, please please hear me. I don’t want to believe these things but it’s really hard not to. It’s really hard to see your people and know that you are good. That you are peace, joy, love, and selfless. 

God I want to believe you, I want to hear your voice and know that it is you and see that you are real and that you DO keep your promises.

Peter Shaffer wrote a play called Amadeus where a character, Salieri, makes a deal with God. He pledges to be a good, moral man as long as God allows him to become a great composer. For sometime Salieri believes God is honoring the promise until Mozart enters the scene. Mozart leads a debauched life and yet he has the talent and success Salieri desires. In response Salieri says to God, “From now on we are enemies, You and I”. I didn’t want fame or to be a great composer, I wanted a successful marriage which didn’t feel like I was asking a lot. Even still, I was Salieri. For the Christian familiar with the parable of the Prodigal Son, I was the eldest son. I had been faithful, walked away from my godless life and wanted good things, in return God was giving me a sh*t-sandwhich. 

A little less than a week after writing the above post, Lucas went out to a friends’ farm to do some paid work after church. At the time we were living in a mother-in-law unit of a home we were sharing with some close friends. (I will always be so grateful for this season, God used this couple and their family to help Lucas and I in more ways than I know.) I came upstairs to start dinner and Nate and Brit were sitting at their dining table talking. I tried to start chopping some carrots and stopped. I was tired of battling God alone in my mind and wanted company. I wanted someone to hear me.

Tentatively I called over to them, asking if they were free to talk. They were. I set the knife down on the cutting board and in the same fluid movement sat down at the table. My mouth flew open and bitterness, resentment, and confusion spilled out. As if on cue the sun dipped behind a front of clouds and the room darkened. I continued my monologue, which mainly circled back to Lucas or marriage. The sky grew darker and the outside sensor lights flickered on. Nate asked some questions, I responded, he dug further.  We were beginning to get to the heart of what was broken when the side door in the kitchen slammed open. We jumped. The storm had moved overhead and with it large gusts of wind and rain. 

Brit got up, shut the door and locked it for good measure. We sat in silence listening to the trees and wind press against the house. A wave of rain began to pelt the windows and we watched the glass get washed. All through our conversation my eyes burned, I had kept the tears back until now. Without much thought, in half a whisper I said, “I don’t think God is good, I don’t think he is listening. I don’t think he cares.” Midway through the last sentence, a bolt of lightning struck above the house across the street. The thunder shook the boards to the house, the floor rolled and the windows rattled. We sat in awe. I was trembling. Nate looked over and said, “You don’t think he is listening?”

It was the only lightning strike in the storm*. Later when Lucas came home, we collectively retold him what happened. In similar reverence Lucas laughed and said he had heard the thunder out in Maple Valley. The next day Lucas and I walked through the backyard, he found a rock and told me to write down the date God had spoken, I needed an Ebenezer. I needed to remember his power, his presence. I needed to remember what I heard that day. 

I can’t describe how fierce the thunder reverberated through me that day. God, in his power, declared his heart in a way I could not ignore. He stated his care and presence, He told me He was listening and had been. More importantly he revealed himself.

The following week, I began meeting with my new counselor.  

(*Quick disclaimer: I am sure there are a plethora of scientific reasons/explanations for the storm we experienced. I also do not feel like I am a special snowflake and God orchestrated everything for me that afternoon. That’s not the story. I do think God helped me understand Him better through that moment. You can call it a subjective interpretation which is fine. But sometimes it’s okay to take things personally, especially when it comes to God.)