It is a bitter cup you drink, and no child of God can taste such gall without crying out. Yet what saith the Scripture? “The sorrow that falleth upon the child of God is blessed to him.” Not that the wrong is less foul, your husband’s deed is a base betrayal, a casting off of a sacred trust, but our God is not absent from the furnace. He is the God of the valleys, as truly as of the hills, and in the low places where the chill mist of human treachery settles thick, His footstep is toward the broken in heart.
You ask that your battles be fought for you. It is a right prayer, for the Lord is a man of war. Think upon that scene in the garden where man first betrayed his God. The trust was broken, and paradise defiled; but out of that ruin came the promise of a conquering Seed. So in your calamity, God holds the threads. He sees the woman sent away, the children torn from a father’s care, and the strange woman usurping your place. Is it lawful for Him to do what He will with His own? Yea, and even in this permitted stroke, His sovereignty is not tyranny but a deep design of love. Perhaps He would teach you that your portion is not in man, but in Himself. When the creature fails, the Creator standeth fast. You have declared your ways unto Him, pour out the whole bitterness, for “God pleads my cause” is the believer’s joy. He will plead for the widow and the fatherless; He will be the husband to the forsaken wife, and the shield of your little ones.
But take heed: let not your cry be against God, but to Him. As on the cross, our Lord cried, “My God, my God,”, not a defiance but a gripping of faith in the darkness. Your Father hath not cast you off, though the stroke be heavy. The husband may say, “I will hear you no more,” but the Bridegroom of your soul saith, “I will never leave thee.” Turn then from the creature to the Creator. The Divine Presence is your one hope. Without Him, you can do nothing; with Him, you shall yet see rivers in the desert. Do not imagine that our God is like the idols of men, strong only in prospered hours. He is God of the night as of the day, God of the betrayal as of the wedding feast. Afflictions are not judicial punishments for the blood-bought, but fatherly chastisements. You are not cast off because you are afflicted; you are chastened because you are a child.
Cry, then, “Teach me Thy statutes.” The temptation will come to fret, to question, to sink in despair, but “the old man fights against the new.” Lean on Divine Grace. When your heart says, “I am a nobody, thrust out with my children,” remember that God uses the base things. The Ruth who gleaned in the field of a kinsman found her redeemer. The widow of Zarephath had but a handful of meal, yet the prophet’s God sustained her. So you, in the mean lane of your sorrow, shall find your God walking beside you. “I will go with you,” saith the Lord. Take the children and tell them that their mother’s God liveth.
Set your face to seek the Divine interpositions. Not by miracle, perhaps, but by that silent steering of providence which is no less wonderful. Pray without ceasing. The prayer that ariseth from a broken heart carries a holy violence which Heaven will not refuse. Let the husband run after his lust; it shall be a canker to his peace. But for you, storm the throne with that humble boldness which crieth, “Arise, O Lord, plead my cause.” Wait upon the Lord and keep His way. The day will declare all things; then the death-warrant upon creature confidence shall bless you with an eternal weight of glory. O sister, kiss the rod and look to the hand that wields it. The covenant stands. The blood speaketh better things. Thou shalt yet sing of deliverance, for the Lord is thy avenger and thy portion forever.