Finding Gratitude in Suffering

“I don’t believe in God anymore, and I don’t want to be married anymore.”

Those fourteen words from my husband’s mouth completely changed the trajectory of my life. They exploded my life and made divorce a part of my story—something I never thought would happen. Yet, there I was, twenty-three and fighting desperately for a marriage that was slipping through my fingers.

I couldn’t convince him to stay; I couldn’t convince him to believe in the God who had been so faithful and kind towards us. I couldn’t make sense of how we had gotten there and how naïve I must have been to be so unaware of what my husband was feeling.

I felt hopeless, broken, and foolish. It left me in the darkest place I had ever been and ushered in a season of suffering I could have never anticipated.

My family was a very traditional, southern Christian family. My parents loved the Lord and each other fiercely; we were in church every time the doors were open, and there was never a lack of delicious southern home-cooked meals in our home. We didn’t have much, but whatever we lacked was made up for by the abundance of love. Dad would teach my brother and I worship songs on the way to school and make a fool of himself to make us laugh. Mom who would sacrifice countless hours to drive me to gymnastics practices and would fight fiercely for me when she felt something wasn’t right. 

More than anything, I never doubted their love for me.

Of course, we had our issues (nobody makes it through childhood without needing at least a little bit of therapy), but I feel enormously blessed by my growing-up years. I never had to experience extreme suffering or loss.

Then my husband uttered those explosive fourteen words that demolished everything. I had no framework to process what was happening around me or vocabulary for the turmoil inside of me. 

Those first few weeks, I felt detached from my body—I was going through the motions of doing dishes and driving to work; my mind couldn’t process what was happening. I had always worked hard to be the “good girl”—the nice Christian who did all of the “right” things—I didn’t know what to do with the fear, anger, depression, and devastation I was feeling. 

I found solace in feeling like the victim. My mind constantly raced with thoughts like, “I don’t want this divorce! How is this fair? He’s the one who’s running straight toward sin, not me! I’m not the one in the wrong here! Why is this happening to me, and where is God in all of this?”

God didn’t leave me to walk alone. He had a journey for me in that deep, dark season of suffering—a journey I wouldn’t trade for the world.

About a month after my husband left, there was a women’s retreat at my church that I forgot that I had already registered for. It was the absolute last thing I wanted; I didn’t want to participate in silly ice breakers or sing worship songs that held words about God’s goodness and faithfulness that I wasn’t sure I believed anymore. But, probably because I already paid for it and don’t like wasting money, I packed my bag for the weekend getaway. I was floored when the theme for the weekend stared at me in bright, bold letters across the retreat handout: “Finding joy in your suffering”.

“Okay, Lord. I see what You’re doing,” I thought. “I’ll listen but I can’t see a way out of this heartache.”

Session after session, I was overwhelmed by the truths being told through Scriptures I had read before but never knew how much I would need some day. After two days, my handout of verses looked like I’d had it for years based on the number of highlights, folds, and notes scribbled around each verse. It held verses that screamed of God’s promises not to waste anything, not even our suffering.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2–4)

Then there were verses that I read over and over until the promises began to sink in:  

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28–30)

In the weeks and months that followed that retreat, those verses were my lifeline. I held them close when the divorce papers came and brought new waves of grief. I went back to them when I felt the panic of being out of control. 

Then, when God very gently began to reveal my own sin during that season, I grew to see Him for who He really was in a way that brought me to my knees.

As much as I raged against this awful thing that was happening to me, it took walking through it to see my own pride, self-righteousness, and judgmental heart. I was not faultless. I was not blameless when it came to the demise of my marriage. 

My sin may have been easier to hide, but it was just as destructive in my relationship with my husband and my relationship with the Lord. It was a season of excruciating refining, but without it, I would not know my need for a Savior like I do now. I had to rely on Him for everything, and it was there that I discovered where my identity came from—not from being the “good Christian girl” or the perfect wife, but in simply being a daughter of the King.

It was there that I found hope.

It wasn’t a hope that my marriage could be restored, although I knew that He could if that was His plan for my life. It was a hope that God would redeem my life, even if I didn’t get the ending I wanted. It was learning that the work He did on the cross and the work He was doing in my heart was enough. His goodness was not tied to one specific ending—He works ALL things for good, even the messy things.

Now I can say that I am grateful for that season of suffering. He used that season in my life, but He used it in my husband’s life as well. God had a journey for him during that year that led him to his rock bottom, to a restored faith, and ultimately to asking for my hand in marriage for the second time. 

Now over ten years later, we get to bring our two kids—our little daily reminders of redemption—on tour with us around the country as we use our music to share the story of what God did. We are sharing HIS story—the story of a God who doesn’t waste anything, who uses our suffering for our good, and who can bring beauty out of brokenness. 

That is a story I will keep telling until my last breath.

**For further reading, here are some of the other verses that were impactful during my season of suffering: 

Psalm 27:5

Psalm 28:7

Psalm 118:13-14 

Psalm 119:71

Isaiah 43:2

John 16:33

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Romans 5:3-5

1 Peter 5:10

**All verses quoted from the NIV translation of the Bible

–Written by Stephanie Teague. Used by permission from the author.