Even so, He is good
My stepmother came into my life in a pretty ugly way. My parents, whose marriage had been rocky since I was very small, had split again. This time seemed a little different. My dad had moved out (not new). But this time, my mom had dragged my brother and I along with her to a lawyer’s office where we had sat, my baby brother on my lap, in a chair alongside my mom as she told this stranger the things she normally only ranted to her closest friends when they came over for coffee and a haircut in her basement salon.
It was two days later when my father came to visit. My mom had agreed to leave the house so he could speak to me, and I had heated up a can of ravioli on the stove for my brother and I to share for dinner. I was 13. While I was cleaning up, my dad arrived, sat me down at the table and proceeded to burst into tears.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him cry. But the other times had all revolved around accidents and blood and hospital stays. This… this was new territory, and I was frightened.
My father told me, over no fewer than three cigarettes, that he was in love with someone else. Correction: he had been in love with someone else for a long time. And now, she was demanding that he choose.
My mom had been malcontent but willing to go along with the ruse of the marriage— likely for the sake of our security. But this “other woman” had called in the loan, so to speak, and he was torn. Not between the two woman, he said, but between this other woman and us. My brother and I.
I learned her name that night, and he told me many things about her, likely trying to sway me towards understanding the decision he had already made. I knew when he left that he wouldn’t be coming back to us. And he didn’t.
That was 35 years ago. And God is good.
I say God is good because He took a situation that was born out of such immense sin and redeemed it, as only He could.
Today, my stepmother is the only “mom” I have. And friends, she is hurting. She was diagnosed with uterine cancer this week. I was with her during the confirming biopsy. I hugged her as we both cried over the oncologist’s words. We talked about blood and body parts and why being a woman so beautiful and hard.
You say to yourself, “Heather, this has nothing to do with the James study. I’m sorry you’re emotionally caught up, but can we get back to the topic at hand?” And I say, breathe. This IS the James study, in every way possible.
The Lord gives us the book of James to lead us into very deep, very personal, very refining spiritual waters. He demands we look away from self, we act on our faith, and that we not simply claim our calling in words, but that we live it out in sacrificial love.
My stepmother and father have heard the Gospel their whole lives, including from me yesterday. They are no bigger sinners than anyone else (James 2:10). And over these next weeks, I will be praying, in faith, for healing (James 5:13). But even more than that, it is my heartfelt prayer the Lord will allow me the immense privilege of seeing James 5:19-20 lived out:
My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.
What a beautiful testimony of redemption that would be, to know that that night 35 years ago was God’s first seed towards a harvest of righteousness. Will you pray with me, friends?
In Christ,
Heather