Chrysostom
Good and Faithful Servant
The weariness you feel is not hidden from God. When the soul is drained and the heart broken, it is a heavy burden. But consider this: the Lord often allows such storms to come upon us, not to destroy us, but to prove the strength of the faith within. Think of the blessed Paul, how he was a chosen vessel, yet what did the Lord show him from the start? Not ease and comfort, but "how great things he must suffer for My name's sake." So too, this trial may be the very arena where God's power is perfected in your weakness.
You see your husband as a stranger now, one whose heart seems hardened. Do not be utterly dismayed. Christ Himself knows the hearts of all, and He does not entrust Himself to those whose faith is only for a season. What looks to you like a man utterly changed may be the revealing of what was hidden, or it may be a passing frenzy that God can yet subdue. Do not fix your hope merely on his flexibility or on a civil agreement, as good as that is. Fix your hope on the One who can soften any heart and who works through the most bitter circumstances. Our own disposition determines whether poverty or wealth, marriage or its sorrows, become a snare or a path to the kingdom. You can bear this poverty and distress meekly, and you will receive no loss in the enjoyment of future goods.
You are tired of fear. And I would say: what profit is there in fearing an uncertain future? It is like sitting idle in a crumbling house, always dreading the fall. Labor instead in the secure room of trust. Draw near to God with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, having your conscience sprinkled by His grace. That labor brings safety. The strength of virtue is exactly this: to stand calm in the storm, to be shaken by no terror, to be superior to all who use us despitefully. This is a greater crown than any earthly diadem can provide. So ask God not just for a swift end to the process, but for the grace to bear the name of Christ nobly in the midst of it. He enabled the apostles to bear daily dangers and insults without fainting; He will enable you to bear this.
Do not let fear of the future paralyze you. It is better to take up the task, however heavy, and walk forward with confidence in God's mercy than to wait in dread. You have already seen His help; you are happy He has aided you. That is well. But now press further. Let this trial make you an ardent lover of Christ, like Peter who, though he sometimes spoke rashly, burned with devotion. Cry out from the depths: "I will not let go of Your hand." For when love is genuine, even the sharpest pain becomes bearable.
Pray for your husband, yes, but also for yourself and your little one. That God may do His perfect work: believe that work often begins in breaking us down before building us up. I will join my prayers to yours, that the hearts that need softening will be softened, that an agreement may come, safe and civil. But above all, that you may emerge from this furnace with a faith more precious than gold, and that your child may grow to see in you a living testimony of God's strength made perfect in weakness. Do not be afraid. The Lord is near.
You see your husband as a stranger now, one whose heart seems hardened. Do not be utterly dismayed. Christ Himself knows the hearts of all, and He does not entrust Himself to those whose faith is only for a season. What looks to you like a man utterly changed may be the revealing of what was hidden, or it may be a passing frenzy that God can yet subdue. Do not fix your hope merely on his flexibility or on a civil agreement, as good as that is. Fix your hope on the One who can soften any heart and who works through the most bitter circumstances. Our own disposition determines whether poverty or wealth, marriage or its sorrows, become a snare or a path to the kingdom. You can bear this poverty and distress meekly, and you will receive no loss in the enjoyment of future goods.
You are tired of fear. And I would say: what profit is there in fearing an uncertain future? It is like sitting idle in a crumbling house, always dreading the fall. Labor instead in the secure room of trust. Draw near to God with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, having your conscience sprinkled by His grace. That labor brings safety. The strength of virtue is exactly this: to stand calm in the storm, to be shaken by no terror, to be superior to all who use us despitefully. This is a greater crown than any earthly diadem can provide. So ask God not just for a swift end to the process, but for the grace to bear the name of Christ nobly in the midst of it. He enabled the apostles to bear daily dangers and insults without fainting; He will enable you to bear this.
Do not let fear of the future paralyze you. It is better to take up the task, however heavy, and walk forward with confidence in God's mercy than to wait in dread. You have already seen His help; you are happy He has aided you. That is well. But now press further. Let this trial make you an ardent lover of Christ, like Peter who, though he sometimes spoke rashly, burned with devotion. Cry out from the depths: "I will not let go of Your hand." For when love is genuine, even the sharpest pain becomes bearable.
Pray for your husband, yes, but also for yourself and your little one. That God may do His perfect work: believe that work often begins in breaking us down before building us up. I will join my prayers to yours, that the hearts that need softening will be softened, that an agreement may come, safe and civil. But above all, that you may emerge from this furnace with a faith more precious than gold, and that your child may grow to see in you a living testimony of God's strength made perfect in weakness. Do not be afraid. The Lord is near.
