Immanuel

I remember the night as if it happened last week.

Not ten years ago.

Emerging from a counseling session, I had received my final answer.

“No.”

Months of desperately praying and pleading. Begging the Lord for a miracle. And, with all my heart, I’d believed it. To the best of my ability, that is. And I was confident God would swoop in at the last minute and save the day. Give me what I wanted. What, I thought, was rightfully mine.

I’ll never pretend to reconcile the sovereignty of God and man’s free will. It’s far too complex for my finite mind to comprehend, but that night, the two came to head.

Man’s choice was made.

And God knew it was coming.

There would no longer be an “us,” there would only be a “me.” And the gravity of my new reality pressed down with a force that threatened to crush me.

Barely breathing, I made it to the car before the shock and disbelief had to time to take root. The sun had retired for the day, and the darkness crowding my soul matched that of the winter sky. I would’ve gone home, burrowed under the covers, and cried myself to sleep were it not for the arrangements I had previously made.

My mom had invited me to a Christmas concert at her church. The last place I wanted to be was squished in a room full of joyful spirits while my fragmented heart was shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces, but I’d committed to attending. And while the rest of the crowd was celebrating the birth of the Savior, I was mourning the loss of my union.

Tucked away in the far corner of the sanctuary, I listened to hymns of praises rise to the Heavens, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I wasn’t mad at God. I still loved Him. And I desperately needed Him. But I was waist deep in grief. Feeling alone and ashamed, humiliated and disgraced.

The crowd quieted down, taking their seats, and the worship leader shifted directions. After a playlist of festive music, he’d worked in a new song. But before he sang it, he wanted to share the story behind it.

A young man appeared on a screen, playing a tender melody on the piano. His voice cut through the chords, sharing about the devastating blow of divorce. My breath caught in my throat. Was this really happening? A testimony of divorce at a Christmas concert? I could’ve written every word he said. And the more I listened, I quickly realized his every word was divinely written for me.

And none of it wasn’t a coincidence in the least.

In the places of darkness, my friend, look for the light. Wait for the miracle. It will come. Maybe not in the form you’re expecting, but God will deliver. He is prepared, even if you aren’t. He has plan, even if yours is falling apart. And despite what you feel, you are never alone. God will meet you right where you are.

Immanuel.