My husband, Luke, and I married young. I was a mere eighteen and
he a strapping twenty-one. Can I just be honest and tell you there
were never two individuals any more needy or any less likely to be
serving behind a pulpit?
I always cringe when we run into old high school friends. The
question of what we're doing now always comes up, and there is
one response that we can count on when we share that Luke is a
pastor after the laughter dies down, that is.
Luke, you are a preacher? And Lisa? You are a preacher's wifi?!
Okay, joke's over. Now what are you really doing?"
We would be offended if we weren't just as batHed.
I forgive our flabbergasted friends because I can't hold their excellent
recall against them. They remember the dangerous combination
of the wild boy and the bitter girl whose marriage was tumultuous
at best. Surely, the future they envisioned for us was set in a divorce
court rather than a sanctuary. They were within days of being absolutely
correct.
There is no human reason why Luke and I should still be wed
today, much less serving the body of Christ. Even though we were
not yet believers, our union started off well enough. But we soon
faced the heartbreaking yet all too common reality of many young
couples: The stress of working different shifts, having more month
than money, and living the separate lives that developed in the midst
of it resulted in our parting ways and filing for divorce two short
years after the ceremony.
I despised the not-yet-preacher, and the truth is I loathed myself
as much as him. We had hurt each other in a million ways, and all I
could think of was getting away and starting over. We were within a
week of our divorce being final when one night I received a bizarre
phone call from him. He told me he had started going to church
again and wanted us to rethink what we were doing.
I went off the deep end! I spewed, "So you are turning into a
religious fanatic and you think that is going to fix everything?" I
was so full of hate and bitterness, and it still makes me blush to think
of all the horrible things I said to him about his newfound religion.
He continued, very patiently, to call and tell me he was asking God
for a miracle as the clock ticked toward the day our marriage would
be legally over.
One night during that critical week before the divorce was
final, I had gone to bed, still convinced divorce was the only
answer. For some reason, I woke up around two and the tears
began to flow. I missed my husband so badly I could barely lie
there. I remember thinking, "What is wrong with you? You cannot
stand him! It's almost over, just hang in there." I realize now that
voice was Satan's, bent on thwarting God's plan for us. If you ask
me how I know prayer works or how I know God can turn a cold
heart in to one that can feel love, laughter, and joy (Ezek. 11 : 19),
I will point you to that night because it is the one that changed
everything.
I called Luke the next day. One conversation led to another, and
we called the lawyer to stop the divorce proceedings. I tentatively
moved back home with Luke, and we began visiting churches. I was
still not very thrilled about the "God thing," but I knew for some
reason I wanted my husband back and this would play a part. Would
it ever!
One night soon afterward, my hubby came to me in our living
room and told me he had just prayed for salvation. He'd gone to
church his whole life, but it was only at that time he truly accepted
Christ as his Savior. I grew up in a totally different denomination,
so this Baptist way of doing things was a little traumatic for me. I
was glad for him, but I still wasn't so sure what that meant for me.
For personal reasons, organized religion held no real appeal, so I was
very afraid of how my husband's becoming so radically different was
going to affect me and our life together. Seemingly out of the blue,
I began having feelings of not being good enough for this new man,
and shame over my own sin slowly entered my heart.
For me, salvation was not a lightning-bolt experience but
rather an intellectual process at first. I needed to understand it.
First Corinthians 1:18 says, "For the message of the cross is foolishness
to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is
the power of God." I know the Spirit of God enabled me to believe
what I was hearing because obviously I could have still walked away
a scoffer. We were attending my husband's childhood church, and
the pastor became a dear friend and mentor to us both. He started
a small group in his home, and I was able to ask all my questions
in a very nonthreatening environment. That man was very patient
with me as I asked everything from "What does conce saved, always
saved' mean?" to ((When do you think the rapture will happen?"
Sometime in the midst of those sessions, I realized I had already
made a decision. That decision was for life both for Jesus Christ
and until-death-do-us-part with my husband. I asked the Lord to
((officially" save me and soon afterward made that public in the body
of people who had prayed so faithfully for us both.
If this had been the end of the story I would have been happilyever-
after indeed. Little did I know our tale was only beginning.
