I’ve always been a little suspicious of people who can be unruffled, composed, or resigned when something traumatic happens to them. My instinct is to think either they’re faking it, they’re in denial, or they’re deceived. Grateful for the Pain So I had to re-read James 1:2 a couple of times to make sure I had actually read it right. “Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds.” You mean consider it a joy when my husband of 19 years abandons me for another woman? Consider it pure joy to wait for God to bring him to his senses? Consider it pure joy to face my shame and insecurity over my husband’s rejection and the realization I too was an idolater? Yeah. Right. And yet, two years into my journey, I actually found myself grateful for the disclosure of my husband’s sin and the revelation on my own. God knew all about Russ’ secret sin. And he knew all about my idolatry or what the recovery world diplomatically calls codependency. He knows about all our sin (Psalm 90:8). But God was merciful, to both of us. If Russ had died unrepentant without his sin being exposed, I wouldn’t have known it until judgment day. And I would have continued in my ignorance, enslaved to my people pleasing. But God foresaw our future and therefore, in mercy, exposed both our sin so we could have every opportunity to repent and go to heaven. Things Above I think God spends a lot of time focusing on heaven. I mean, he lives there. Why wouldn’t he? I think that’s why he orchestrated his whole elaborate plan to qualify us for heaven. He tells us to set our hearts and minds on things above (Colossians 3:1-2) so that when pain inevitably comes, we can put it in its proper place in our lives. The Apostle Paul suffered intense persecution (2 Corinthians 11:23-29). In fact, four of the 13 epistles he wrote were done from a prison cell: Ephesians, Philippians, Philemon, and yes, Colossians. But Paul had his eyes so firmly fixed on heaven that he called all his pain and affliction “light and momentary troubles” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17). Yes, it may feel like your heart is being run through a shredder. But as someone who has moved through the pain of betrayal and recovery to a place of peace, I understand what Paul means. The four years of uncertainty, shame, fear, and continual heartache are a memory. Parts of it are still quite vivid, but the worst of the pain is slowly fading as Russ and I replace the pain and anguish with joy, trust, and emotional intimacy. Read more…