Her heart clenched when she caught sight of the papers, lying stark against the morning light on their kitchen table. The divorce papers, once crisp and new, were now tattered and creased from being folded multiple times. They were the final decree to end their marriage—a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong between them. She could almost feel the weight of their shattered dreams and promises pressing down upon her as she stood there, frozen in disbelief and sorrow. It was as if their whole world had been reduced to these simple sheets of paper, and she couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, where it all went wrong.
Tears blurred Abigail’s vision as she reached out to touch them, her heart heavy with guilt and regret like a boulder of sorrow pressing down on her chest and causing her breath to come in short gasps. The weight of her guilt and regret threatened to crush her—a heavy burden she could not escape.
She had never wanted this. When she had stood at the altar marrying Sam, the love of her life, she had never imagined herself standing on the precipice of divorce, knowing full well the weight of its sinfulness.
For months, they had drifted apart, like jetsam floating away from a wrecked ship, their once-strong bond devastated by misunderstandings and unspoken hurts. Abigail had tried to reach out—to bridge the gap between them, but he had grown distant, his love slipping through her fingers like sand. Despite Pastor Rodriguez’s efforts to help, their conversations did not bear any marital fruits; neither did the even more sessions they had with their marriage counselor he’d recommended.
Abigail had prayed fervently for reconciliation and forgiveness, but it seemed as though her prayers fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was unlovable—unworthy of Sam’s affection and God’s love.
As she sat alone in their empty house post-divorce, surrounded by memories of happier times like a ghost haunting, she felt a deep sense of despair wash over her. How could she have let it come to this? How could she have failed so miserably in her marriage—in her faith?
In the depths of her despair, she talked to Pastor Rodriguez in his office, and a glimmer of hope began to stir within her. He handed a Bible to her (one of many sitting on his bookshelf) and told her to read 1 John 1:8-9.
“ ‘If we say that we have no sin,’” she read, “ ‘we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ This is exactly what we say at the beginning of every service.”
“Exactly,” Pastor Rodriguez explained. “Everything in the liturgy comes from Scripture. You’ve acknowledged your guilt in your divorce, yes?” Abigail nodded. “What happens when you confess your sins, then?”
“God forgives me and cleanses me from all unrighteousness,” she answered.
Pastor Rodriguez grinned. “Yes. Would you like to receive Confession and Absolution?”
“Yes,” Abigail said, her spirit slightly uplifting.
“What sins would you like to confess?” Pastor Rodriguez asked.
“Divorce,” she answered with shame. “I know it takes two to divorce. Even though I did everything I could to save our marriage, I still feel like I didn’t do enough.”
“Do you believe my forgiveness is God’s forgiveness?”
“Yes,” she said as she bowed her head.
“Let it be done for you as you believe.” Pastor Rodriguez placed his hand gently on her head. “In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins,” he began making the sign of the cross over her, “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
“Amen.”
In the days that followed, she sought solace in the Gospel of John that Pastor Rodriguez had suggested she read. She had read John chapter 4 at least half a dozen times when she came to it—the Samaritan woman who was not only divorced five times but was also cohabitating with a man who was not her husband, yet Jesus had even offered to her the water of eternal life, that is, Himself. It was as if a thousand rivers converged into one, cool and clear and pure, and she felt it in the depths of her soul a healing and quenching salvation only He could bring.
Abigail suddenly realized she had drunk from that same well of eternal life in her Baptism—that she received Christ Himself in the font. With a peace that surpasses all understanding, Abigail thought, How could I ever think God doesn’t love me when He gave Himself to me?
The Lutheran Column 