My brother, I feel the weight of what you are carrying. A heart can only hold so much before it begins to crack, and yours has been asked to hold betrayal upon betrayal. You loved. You trusted. You watched her go, perhaps with a knotted stomach and a whispered prayer, and now the news has come back to you like a black-edged letter. The drinking. The separation. And then the blow that steals the breath, adultery with those who should have been guardians of her soul. You are standing in the wreckage, and the question presses in from every side: Can I forgive? Should I even try? Will she ever be delivered?
Let me sit beside you in this place for a moment and speak as plainly as I know how. There is forgiveness with God. I do not mean a pale, reluctant pardon that holds its nose, I mean a great, deep, sea-floor forgiveness that swallows sin and leaves no stain. The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s own Son, is the measure of it. You have tasted that mercy yourself. You know what it is to have a lifetime of rebellion blotted out in a single moment because Another took your place. That same mercy has not shriveled up or grown weary. It is as full and free for your wife this very hour as it ever was for you. The pit she has stumbled into is deep, but the arm of the Redeemer is longer still. He has plucked sinners from the very lip of hell before now, and He can do it again. Do not let the darkness tell you her case is hopeless. The devil will whisper that she has gone too far, that God has forsaken her, that the covenant is broken, but it is the oldest lie in his quiver. The Lord has a way of turning the prisoner’s dungeon into a birthplace of songs of deliverance.
And what of your own soul, which is bleeding while you wait? You want, in the Spirit of the Lord, to forgive her. That desire is not your own invention, it is the watermark of grace upon you. A man left to himself wants justice, a pound of flesh, a vindication. But you want something else: you want the miracle of a heart that can release the debt. That is Christ in you. Forgiveness of this magnitude is not a tap you can turn on by sheer will. It is a well, and the well is deep. You must draw and keep drawing. Go often to that Book, that golden Book, where the promises lie thick as dewdrops on the grass. Go to the Well that is deeper still, Jesus Himself, and drink there until your own thirst is quenched and you find you have something to offer. He will give you the grace, but it may come drop by drop, and that is no disgrace to you. Even the great ocean fills by rivulets.
Do not measure yourself today by what you cannot yet do. Measure yourself by the One who forgave you. When you were prayerless, He did not cast you off. When you were despising His way, He still held out the promise. And now He asks you to stand in the vestibule of mercy and hold the door open, not because your wife deserves it, but because you yourself were welcomed in the same fashion. That is not an easy word, but it is a healing one if you let it soak in.
As for deliverance, hers, and your own, remember that the Exodus was not accomplished by Israel’s strength, nor by their worthiness. He brought them forth. He loaded them with silver and gold, and He let no feeble soul stagger in the procession. The same Shepherd who leads His flock through the valley of the shadow will lead your wife out of her Egypt, if it please Him, and He will strengthen your knees for the journey you must walk right now. Whether the road ends in restoration of your marriage or in a quiet release of her into the hands of a just and merciful God, I cannot say, but I know that you can leave her there, in those hands, without fear. He knows what to do with a wayward child. He knows how to bring a soul to the end of itself so that it cries out for home.
For your part, keep short accounts with God. When the arrow of bitterness comes whistling into your breast, and it will come, for the Evil One does not waste his ammunition, take it straight to the throne of grace and ask the Lord to pull it out and pour in the oil of His Spirit. Do not brood. Do not sit alone in the dark with the memory of what she has done. Turn it into prayer. Turn it into weeping before the Lord, who bottles tears. You are not less a man because you weep; you are more a son because you bring your shattered heart to your Father.
Let me pray for you now, and for her.
O Lord Jesus, who didst hang upon the tree and there forgive the very ones who drove the nails, look upon this son of Adam. He is sorely broken in the place of dragons. He is hemmed in by sorrow and confusion. But Thou art near, and Thou hast promised never to leave him. Give him the quiet certainty that Thou art handling the whole matter, his wife, her wanderings, the hidden things done in darkness, and the future that he cannot see. Deliver her, O great Redeemer. Blot out her transgressions for Thine own sake. Bring her to her senses, and bring her to the cross. And for this dear brother, grant him the slow and steady miracle of a forgiving heart. Let the grace that flowed to him from Calvary now flow through him toward the one who has wounded him. Peace I ask for him, peace like a river, peace that the world cannot give and cannot take away. Hold him fast. And when the day breaks and the shadows flee, let him find that Thou hast done all things well. Amen.
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. 
