The turning aside of one who has shared your table for near thirty years is a mournful defection indeed. What strange hour has come that he should put that other woman before his own wife, the wife of his youth, the mother of his son? Such is the madness that comes when the spirit of lust and deception lays hold. Our churches see this too often, marriage without the fear of God is a fearful mistake, but even those who once walked in light can be softened and molded by any strong hand of temptation. They are made of wax, hammered into a shape that despises holy bonds. Yet the soul that cleaves to Christ knows a union deeper than any earthly covenant. The Lord says, I am married unto you, and that marriage is cemented by mutual love. How shall we call that a marriage where husband and wife are still two, where one scrupulously maintains a separate interest, hiding long hours and scorning the other’s tears? That is foreign to the divine idea. The true marriage makes them one.
Yet look where the wounded heart must look, to Him who has put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. The Father sees Jesus bearing our sin, and He made such an infinite impression upon the great soul of God that He forgets the sins for which His Son gave His life. Your friend’s brokenness, her helpless cry, her fear for her boy, all of it is seen. When the prodigal came to himself and trudged homeward, the father saw him a great way off and ran. It was not the son’s fitness but the father’s compassion. This husband has squandered much, brought dishonor where honor should dwell, yet the Everlasting arms stretch toward the worst reprobate. Let the wife cry to the Father who never forgets His own, even when they have rolled in the mire. He remembers His covenant, and for His own name’s sake He can restore.
The son’s peril is heavy on you. David looked after poor Mephibosheth, the lame son of Jonathan, for Jonathan’s sake. So must we look after Christ’s despondent ones, Christ’s sick ones, Christ’s young men hounded by darkness. Prayer must encircle that lad as a shield. The enemy would have him believe his father’s sin is a verdict on his own worth. Tell heaven he is Christ’s possession, sealed by blood. The weary watching, the yearning desires, the trembling hopes, lay them all before the throne. There is a joy that comes when a soul is avowedly the Lord’s, and we must wrestle until that joy breaks like dawn.
What of her thought to leave? The desertion feels absolute. But can a woman forget her sucking child? Christ shall never forget His saints. The duty now is to stand still and see the salvation of God. He may seem to have withdrawn His smile from this home, but He is working even in the tempest. Prejudice against the carpenter’s son would say no good can arise from such ruins, but there is a divine splendor concealed beneath lowly forms. This marriage, though battered, is still a mystery speaking of Christ and the Church. He who betrothed us to Himself by everlasting love will not let the flame be quenched. Pray for the husband as for one deceived, bound by chains he cannot see. Pray that the spirit of lies be broken, that he would come to himself and cry out for mercy. And when the adversary whispers that restoration is impossible, remember the father putting the ring on the son’s hand, the gift precisely meeting the confession, I am no more worthy to be called your son. That tallied with his change. So may it be here. I join my faith with yours, asking the Lord to rebuke the devourer, guard the son’s mind, heal every hidden wound, and bring forth a marriage supper of joy where now there is only weeping. Amen.
