Amid Infidelity and Imprisonment, I’ve Found Healing and Peace
By Name Withheld
It seemed idyllic.
Ministry family. Almost 20 years of marriage. Two kids and a dog. A house in the suburbs. A green yard and gorgeous flowers outside the front door. A “Welcome to Our Home!” sign.
Things looked good from the outside, for sure, but inside the house a spiritual war was waging on my family and my marriage.
I knew something was wrong in the fall of 2020; I could feel it in my gut. My husband and I both were teachers, and it was a rough time to be a teacher—masks, online school, quarantines, etc. We both knew we needed to build relationships with our students to be effective in the classroom. Boundaries, however, disappeared in that regard for one of us.
TRIALS
“Consider it pure joy,” says James, “whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (1:2-3). The trials arrived in the form of a text message. It was cowardly and only made the pain more intense.
On a Friday night in the spring of 2021, I received a lengthy text message from my husband. He was having an affair . . . and it was with a former student. He suggested I move on without him. He was embarrassed and ashamed. He was on his way out of state to go stay with his parents as things crumbled. I managed to get him on the phone while he was driving, and we talked for what seemed like hours. He cried. I cried. I sat alone in our basement, staring at the things around me—the home we’d made for ourselves. I couldn’t imagine giving it all up. My heart ached in a way I never knew was possible. The next few weeks were a whirlwind.
PEACE IN THE CHAOS
In all things, God was working for my good (Romans 8:28). But at that point, life didn’t feel good. Every negative emotion possible—I felt it. Hurt, pain, failure, anger, disappointment, betrayal, confusion. Feelings of inadequacy. But amid all that, I had a sense of peace. A song by Switch called “Symphony” put my feelings into words:
You say you’re working everything for my good, and I believe every word. Even in the madness, there is peace—drowning out the voices all around me. Through all of this chaos, you are writing a symphony.
I cannot explain the peace that fell over me. Even while not sleeping and barely eating, I felt a symphony was being written—a story in which I played the lead despite not auditioning for the role. I had been called to this purpose, and through it all, God would be glorified.
Let me be clear. My husband made some terrible mistakes. The person he had an affair with was under 18, and in our state, his decision was a felony because he had once been her teacher. He immediately lost his job, and his reputation was destroyed. All the students he had led closer to Jesus were left questioning every conversation they ever had with him. He had officiated weddings, spoken at funerals, mentored and prayed with students, and spoken the truth of Jesus into thousands of lives. And now what did all that even mean? Was he just a fraud? A criminal? For some, the pain was too great to bear. It was easier to just cut him out entirely.
For me, I couldn’t imagine life without him, nor could I believe that God was finished with our marriage or with my husband. Don’t get me wrong: I filed for divorce. I just never went through with it. I never submitted all the papers to the lawyer. I just couldn’t grasp that as our story. So, when he returned to our home several days after his confession, I presented him a list of my expectations. Repent. Seek counseling. Pursue God first, and then me. And many other more personal things. The final item said, “This list can be expanded as needed to help me and the kids feel like we can trust you again. But ultimately, we want you here . . . not away. We can’t fix things if we’re apart.” He started to work his way through the list, and we began the process of healing.
On Easter Sunday (2021), I let him back into our bedroom. It had been a month, and he’d been sleeping downstairs ever since his return home. The story of forgiveness and love found in the cross and resurrection of Christ pushed me to allow him back in and move us another step toward healing. Over the course of the next 16 months, the days and weeks were filled with counseling appointments (individually and as a couple), conversations (some lighthearted and filled with laughter and others weighed down with hurts and tears), and making new memories together. Had it not been for those months of healing, I’m still not sure we would have been prepared for the next step.
Prison—it was an unspoken possibility from the time he was caught until his sentencing. He had broken the law as a teacher, but due to his lack of criminal history and the opinion of a licensed psychiatrist that he was not likely to recommit this offense, we had hoped he wouldn’t be incarcerated. His lawyer did her best to pursue probation. Unfortunately, however, in the fall of 2022, my husband was sentenced to prison for a little over two years. We had prepared in advance for him to be gone. All our accounts were in order. Time had been spent with our kids. Hugs and kisses had been given. And God had blessed us with time to heal before we were separated.
WAITING
And so here we are. We’re dealing with the aftermath, tying up loose ends, with some additional stories still to be told. God is still working through our marriage. My husband and I talk often; I visit him almost weekly. God is moving in my husband’s life in ways that only He can. God is caring for me and my family. Friends and coworkers send texts and letters, bless me with coffee (when they know I’m in the valley), and blessed us with cash gifts at Christmas for our kids. God is moving. He is crafting a story unlike one I could have ever told.
I know that God “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20). And I get to tell others of the blessings he is pouring out!
Wait is my word for 2023, as in . . .
[Those] who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint (Isaiah 40:31, English Standard Version).
The word wait can be exchanged for trust and hope. That’s where I am in this story. I’m waiting on the Lord. I’m trusting in him for my future. I have hope that he will continue to renew my husband, me, our marriage, and our family, especially in times when we’re tired and weary.
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