You have been praying every day, and your heart is heavy. You cry out with the same words, and sometimes it feels as though the ceiling is brass and the answer is a long time coming. But, dear soul, it is not so. Every one of those prayers has been gathered up, as carefully as a mother gathers the wildflowers her child brings in from the field, and laid upon the altar before the throne. Not one sigh of your heart has been wasted; not one tear has fallen to the ground unheeded. The Lord who counts the stars and calls them all by name has counted every petition you have whispered in the night watches, and He has kept them all.
You long for your husband to be set free from the thing that holds him, a chains that no human hand can break. And you are tempted to look at the chain instead of the Chain-Breaker. You have been looking at the empty place at the table, or the slurred words, or the days lost, and your heart has sunk within you. But turn your eyes, just now, from the storm to the Master of the sea. He is not asleep, though the winds are boisterous. He is not indifferent, though the hour is dark.
Do you know what God is like towards His people? He compares Himself to a husband. And what a husband He is! When His bride was in slavery, He gave a whole nation for her ransom. When she wandered and was faithless, He did not cast her off. When she was at her very worst, He remained faithful still. “For better or for worse,” we say in our marriage vows, and our poor love so often fails at the “worse.” But His love never fails. Is he not your Husband, the Lord of Hosts? And if He is such a Husband to you, faithful, tender, providing, communing with you in love, can you not trust Him with this sorrow? The same faithful love that holds you will hold your husband too. You cannot force his will, but the strong and gentle drawing of divine love can do what no argument, no tears, no human effort can accomplish. One hair from the head of Love will draw more than a cable of fear.
You have been, perhaps, sitting down and taking stock of the situation, and your barometer has gone down, down, down to “stormy.” You see your husband’s condition, and you mourn it, and the temptation comes to let that mourning turn into a settled despair. But all your lamentation over the evil will not, of itself, remove it. The remedy does not lie in your anxiety, but beyond and above you. There is a word I would press close to your heart: “Why speak ye not a word of bringing the king back?” You have been saying, “Pray for him.” That is right. But keep on speaking that word yourself. Keep on asking the King of Glory to come back into your home, to sit at your table, to stand by your side in the night. The royal hand alone brings health and cure. And He is not unwilling. He came to seek and to save the lost, and there is not a sinner so far gone that His love cannot overtake him. No, the very fact that you are praying is itself a sign that He is already at work. He first loved us, and from that first love every true prayer springs. Before you ever knocked, the door was already opening on the other side.
There is a lovingkindness that draws men. It is not the trumpet of warning alone that brings a wanderer home; it is the soft note of hope in God’s mercy. You cannot preach to your husband as you might wish, perhaps your words only stir up resistance. But your silent, steady prayer is a far mightier thing. It is like the light of dawn that steals over a dark landscape, imperceptibly yet irresistibly turning night to day. The love of Christ, shed abroad by the Holy Ghost, can melt a heart that has been frozen for years. So do not measure the Lord by your fears. He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that you ask or even think.
Hold fast, dear heart. You are not alone in the deep water. The good Shepherd is near, and He knows how to lead even the most stubborn sheep back to the fold. I commend you to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and who can make even this bitter affliction work together for your good and for your husband’s everlasting gain., , Lord Jesus, Thou Shepherd and Bishop of our souls, look upon this dear woman in her trouble. Thou seest her tears, Thou hearest her daily cry. O Thou who didst give Egypt for a ransom and Ethiopia for a prize, undertake for her. Break the snare that holds the one she loves. Draw him with cords of lovingkindness, and let the sweetness of Thy grace overcome all that binds him. And give her, in the waiting time, such a sense of Thy faithful love that her heart may rest in Thee as a wearied child in a Father’s arms. Bring the King back to her home, and let the voice of rejoicing be heard there again. For Thy mercy’s sake, Amen.