Marriage, Divorce & Renewal, Part IV

Reflecting on my teen years, I recalled a spiritual decision I had made to offer my life to God in Christian vocation. I had never forgotten that. In fact, I was lately thinking on that decision and was considering a career in Christian counseling if you can believe that.

I decided to go to college in Dallas. But not just any college — Bible college. In August of 1986, I left my parents driveway headed for Dallas. I heard that voice again inside my head: “If you go to that college, you will remarry your wife.” Now, isn’t that interesting? I was still divorced, but God called Cynthia my wife.

In all honesty, going to college was, in some respects, avoiding God’s inevitable claim upon my marriage. But I also felt that a Bible college would be a great place of spiritual renewal and vocational preparation. It was.

God has a sense of humor. What I thought I was running from actually intercepted me in a most uncomfortable collision with only one word: covenant.

In Old Testament class I learned from God’s dictionary the definition of covenant. A covenant joins at least two parties that declare to fulfill the requirements of an agreement even if one of the parties fails to fulfill its commitment. So, if party “A” bails out or does not maintain covenantal obligations, party “B” cannot use that as an excuse to vacate the covenant. Party “B” is obliged to remain engaged insofar as is possible.

And that’s when it hit me: marriage is not a contract; it’s a covenant. When a man and woman say, “I do,” they enter into the covenant of marriage. I said, “I do” years earlier, but I checked out of that commitment. However, that commitment did not check out of me. The force of the covenant remained even when I forcefully rejected it. Divorce did not end my marriage. Nor could it.

God began working on me, needling me, making me uncomfortable about this covenant thing. I knew where he was taking me and I dared not refuse. He already had shown the end of his patience at Wolf Creek Pass. He spared me from the canine’s clutches, and I was pretty sure that would be the last time.

Spring semester found me restless. I could not get away from that covenant word. I knew what I had to do, and I did it with painful reluctance and begrudging obedience.

My parents were coming to Dallas for a conference and I asked them to bring Cynthia, too. Dad really couldn’t refuse — and I’m sure he didn’t want to — because I told him I was planning on proposing to Cynthia.

Cynthia agreed to my request to come to Dallas, but she wasn’t sure why.

I must admit that seeing Cynthia again was not a Hallmark Movie moment for me. We did not run in slow motion toward each other as rose petals fell from the sky to the rhythm of classical music. The reunion was cordial, though, despite my stoic reluctance.

The buffer my roommate and his fiancé provided helped me get through those couple of days. However, I would have to gut-it-out alone during the re-marriage proposal.

At this moment, I suspect some readers will wonder what in the heck was wrong with me. God had worked a miracle in the Rockies, but now he’d have to do another one in my stony heart. Years of running from God had built barriers. I did not want them. In fact, I wanted an intimate relationship with God. However, coming back to God had to be on his terms, not mine.

To propose marriage, a man should have a ring. But I was nearly broke. When a friend at school learned of my plans, he put me in contact with a friend of his — a diamond wholesaler.

I will always suspect that James helped pay for the sight-clear, half-carat “girl's best friend” that cost me only a few hundred bucks.

Lest you think that my hard heart could not get worse, think again. When I asked Cynthia to marry me, I think any other woman would have slapped me, laughed in my face, and walked away. I explained to Cynthia, frankly, that I did not love her in any other way but as a sister in Christ. I was merely obeying God in what I was doing while trying to convey that I was not all that interested in marrying her — again.

Unbelievable. How hard is it to fathom that God was at work in my heart? The words of my mouth and the mediations of my heart were not at all about marriage. I just wasn’t feeling it. In retrospect, I believe I was foreseeing what would be many months of hard work and painful healing.On the other hand, Cynthia was a champ. Upon my revelation of only “Christian” love for her, she replied, “But I love you, and I am willing to try again.” 

I pulled the ring from my pocket (still no violins playing). The stone glistened in the porch light. So did the tears welling in Cynthia’s eyes.

Norm Miller can be contacted at nmiller@montanacc.edu