I stared up at the ceiling. It was 3 AM and I had yet to sleep. My fluffy little dog snored away by my side; oblivious to the turmoil and tears overflowing from my saddened soul. I couldn’t even laugh as I felt her tiny paws running against my leg as she happily chased squirrels in her dreams. Now was the time for sorrow. Now was the time for grief.
For many months I prayed that God would restore my marriage. Every day for nine months I pleaded with God to intervene. To miraculously change my husband’s heart. To heal the wounds in his heart that I had somehow caused and bring him back to me. I know God and I were on the same page. God is a marriage supporter. An advocate for life-long unions modeled after the relationship he has with his church.
And yet…God allows man and woman to make their own choices.
From the moment Adam and Eve introduced sorrow into the world by choosing sin over God we were plunged into a state of chaos. Required to decide whom we will serve. Who we will worship and praise. Who we will hear and not hear.
In my stubborn heart I don’t like to be told what to do. If God said I had to worship him and him alone- OR ELSE- I’m not sure that I would make the right choice because I’m flawed and I’m prideful.
