You have put your own lips to the cup of grief, and it is a bitter draught indeed, loss and accusation mingled together. Yet you ask, "What have I done?" as though suffering were the exact measure of a man's guilt. That is the old cry of the flesh, flinging down the gauntlet to the Almighty and charging Him with injustice. Such language betrays the enmity of the natural heart, quick to suspect its Maker. But listen to the better voice, the voice that says, "That thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest." God is no false witness; all He permits is true and right, though the reasons lie hidden in the deeps of His sovereign wisdom.
You speak of the woman you called wife, and grief for her is heavy upon you. But look now: does not this sorrow, this tangle of afflictions, come with a still small voice asking you to examine the foundations you have built upon? If a man travels off the King's Highway, he must not marvel if robbers set upon him. The heart that has taken byroads of its own choosing, calling things by names God has not given, forming bonds apart from His ordinance, cannot expect the angelic guard to be as near as when it walks in the appointed paths. This is no cruel thrust, but a warning from love. The sorest peril is to have a false peace, to say to oneself, "All is well," when the plumb line of the Word reveals a crooked wall. Many take their case only to the lower court of their own heart, where affections and excuses sit as judge. But God is greater than the heart; His court is higher, and His law is truth.
Yet I press this not to crush you, but to drive you to the only hiding place. Our hope hangs upon no feelings of innocence in the lower court. The great wonder is that a man may be guilty and yet acquitted, vile and yet clean, condemned in himself and yet justified before the throne of the Highest. This is the mystery of the cross: Christ suffered, the just for the unjust. You ask for protection and help in Jesus’ name; that is the right plea. Only see that it is not the plea of a man who trusts his own goodness, pointing to what he has not done. True prayer stands black in its own sight, owning, "Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned," and then casts itself wholly upon the atoning blood. There is mercy to be had at the mercy seat, for every sin confessed and forsaken.
Go, then, with the brief, silent prayer of Nehemiah, who in a moment darted his petition to the God of heaven before the earthly king. The Lord can make the heart of a judge benign, can overturn the schemes of the false accuser, can grant you favor in the very teeth of injustice. But seek first that your own spirit be right with God. Let this furnace burn away all dross, every false way, every sorry compromise, and leave you cleaving to Christ alone. Sing of mercy and judgment together, for the bitter and the sweet are mingled in the cup your heavenly Father holds to your lips. He will bring you through the fire, not to destroy, but to purge, that you may be found faithful in His court at last.
Prayer Focus: God, Thank You for loving me. Thank You for loving me, Jesus. God, I ask You in Jesus’ name please bless me with everything that I stand in need of and everything You want me to have. 
