Month: June 2014

Stop Being Happy on Facebook
affair recovery

Stop Being Happy on Facebook

Jacquelyn Sill8 Comments

“I pray God uses you to break new ground and make an eternal difference. However, when He does, you must brace yourself for more criticism and pain than you might imagine.” -Craig Groeschel, Dare to Drop the Pose

Facebook is a strange world, and I have met many people who describe themselves as having a love/hate relationship with the online community driven app. It’s partially perplexing, because it’s rules are unestablished. What is acceptable to one “friend” may cross a line for another “friend”. One truth most users will agree on is this: Facebook is not real.

I can jump on my computer at 6 AM and see pictures of a young couple going to their High School Prom. In naivety, I could assume they are either very late or very early for the dance–since no one leaves for the Prom at sunrise.  In judgement, I could assume the happy couple are still at the Prom and have chosen to ignore all recommendations of what would be a sensible curfew for 16-year-olds. Or, in relative wisdom, I could look at the time stamp and see that the picture is 12 hours old. In this obvious scenario, Facebook users recognize it would be foolish for me to make one of the first two assumptions.

In keeping with the Prom theme, it would be equally foolish for me to assume that what I see in the picture tells the whole story. Upon further investigation, perhaps I would learn that this was a bad date all around. If the girl were to confide in me, perhaps she would share that she wished she had chosen more comfortable shoes, that her date spent the whole night pressuring her with sexual advances, or that her closest friends left early and went to a party where they got drunk. Perhaps she would admit that she had huge disappointments for how her Prom night had turned out.

We all know how this turned out....
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And yet, the pretty picture would still sit nicely on her timeline. Still collecting “Likes”.

Several months ago, when my affair was made public to the women’s group at our church, I began receiving Facebook messages from women who attend the same church as myself. Most of them wanting to encourage me to cling to God. Some of them wanted to reach out to me because they themselves had felt the sting of this particular sin.  Reading these emails made me realize there might be women who were looking for a way to understand their own journey. Once I began blogging, the enormity of the emails only increased, and they became more geographically widespread. Some of the women who have contacted me failed in their own vows, and some of them have husbands who have been unfaithful. Their stories are all different, but the common theme is a desire to connect and express the feelings they are having about their own journey.

Soon the blog stats showed that the posts were being read by people not just in the United States but around the globe. I was dumbfounded to imagine anyone in Tunisia would want to read what I wrote, let alone nine people in the Netherlands. (side note: where the heck is Tunisia?) However, I was able to recognize this: it had very little to with my writing, and more to do with what God might be doing.

This week I received my first piece of HATE mail, and the private message was downright mean. The writer indicated that my documentation of my journey was an assault to her. She went on to explain that while she was married to her previous husband, who had also been a pastor, she had an affair. She shared that she did not make her affair public. She doesn’t like the message I am sending for many reasons, but the saddest of all is because she doesn’t believe it is possible for a marriage to ever recover from infidelity.  Her message to me had many accusations, but the first concept was simply this: Stop being happy on Facebook.

The writer bluntly stated, “How can you possibly pretend to have this perfect life on FB and go on knowing things will actually never be the same.”  I was saddened when I read her words, because as she went on to share her story it was evident that her infidelity had led to the end of her marriage. I was also sad, because after she emailed me, she blocked me so I couldn’t respond to her. There were things I would want to give to her, not in an attempt to defend my life–but in an attempt to help her find hope in her own life.

I began to ponder what she had said. I asked myself if I was “pretending to have a perfect life on FB.” I thought about the pictures I have posted of myself–mostly pictures of my granddaughter or my husband and myself.

Isla in the Pool

  • Did I take my granddaughter swimming this week? Yes.
  • Did my granddaughter cry when I took her out of the pool and made her take a nap. Yes…but I didn’t photograph that.

D&J at Village Eatery

  • Did I dine with my husband at our favorite coffee shop on Monday morning? Yes.
  • Did we go to that coffee shop after an emotionally draining morning dealing regret and disappointment? Yes…but I didn’t mention it in a status update.

That made me think about the Prom scenario–the picture of the couple is taken and that reflects a part of the story, but not the story in its entirety. Even the painful things the teenager encountered may have silver linings. Perhaps she took off her shoes and danced barefoot for the first time. Perhaps the behavior of her date and her friends solidified truths that her parents or church youth leaders had been pouring into her. This night of crisis had exposed what she herself believed about peer pressure and purity, and perhaps–for her–this was an evening of victory.  Not documenting every single detail of the Prom date on Facebook does not mean the teenage girl was pretending to have gone to the Prom any more than I am pretending to have a perfect life.

I think of the rest of the accusation: “How can you possibly pretend to have this perfect life on FB and go on knowing things will actually never be the same”

Going on knowing things will never be the same is not a fear, it is a hope.

I don’t want the marriage I had, and my husband doesn’t want that marriage either. We have been working to embrace every aspect of this trial to allow it to transform us. Following any failure, there is a window of opportunity for transformation. Transformation is not a guarantee with failure–it is a choice. We either mask and hide when our failure is revealed, or we walk through it. Just because a person fails does not mean they will be transformed by the failure. Living in and experiencing the natural consequences–not covering them up is the road that must be traveled to find transformation. The natural consequences of sin are purely emotional and spiritual, and are not the same as man’s judgement of sin. But, most people don’t like to deal with emotions that are raw and painful. One of the most difficult aspects to embrace is the grief. With infidelity there is grief, and no person in their right mind likes grief.

Grief visited our home two decades ago when our 19-month-old daughter died. The difference this time is we are also dealing with shame and blame. The other difference is that this time, while we are both experiencing grief–it is from opposite sides of a two sided fence. The challenge early on was to try to get on the same side of the fence, but we couldn’t. We needed a third side on our two sided fence. For a third side of a fence to present itself, we needed a miracle.

With each of us clinging to the long, strong arm of God, He pulled us each up and over our opposite sides of the fence so that we would be in a new pasture–we moved to His side of the fence. As long as we remain in this new pasture, things won’t be the same.

The truth of our past reminds me of this: when we faced grief with the death of our daughter, we still took our other three children to the park to feed the ducks, we still taught them how to ride their bicycles, and we still cheered for them at swim meets. We grieved deeply for what we had lost, but we still enjoyed the beauty in the life we had. Granted there was no Facebook to document the life we were pretending to have, so perhaps it never happened at all.

 

Why I Don’t Like Weddings Anymore
affair recovery · marriage

Why I Don’t Like Weddings Anymore

Jacquelyn Sill10 Comments

I used to like weddings. 

There is something surreal about them; everything is familiar, and yet, different. There are the basic elements: bride, groom, flowers, a general feeling of enchantment, and the personality of the couple shines in the variations that emerge. At one wedding the relaxed nature of the couple shines in the simple elegance, while at the next wedding the bride’s whimsical flare, spice and love for life seems to bounce off the over-the-top centerpieces. White rose buds tipped in golden glitter line the isles, and cream colored satin ribbons dance in the breeze. Chairs sit uniformly under lofty trees as guests arrive and greet one another.

Yes, I used to like weddings. But, as I am going through this season in my life, I feel differently about weddings.

The music begins, heads turn to the back of the room, and as the bride makes her way down the isle my eyes are fixed on the groom. He believes in her, and it shows in his eyes. He pursued her for this moment. He has arrived to make promises to be true to her for the rest of his life. I remember when my husband had that look in his eyes–and my heart cringes at how I disappointed him. The vows are made–vows to be honorable and respectful. I think of my vows, and I believe I meant them with all sincerity when I made them. I didn’t enter into marriage lightly, and yet, I still found myself in the place of those who are often accused of doing just that.

My heart beats against my chest when the couple takes their vows. They are making a covenant before God and before the people who matter the most in their life. This is a sacred and holy moment, and this is why I have realized that while I used to like weddings, I can’t say I like them anymore.

Because, now…I love weddings.

Inside of this shattered soul the difference between liking a wedding and loving a wedding is the difference between death and life. Yes, the reminder of how I failed is real, and dreadfully painful–but there is another fascinating reminder I’ve encountered. Now,  more than ever before, I am so thankful for the covenant of marriage. A marriage covenant is a vow that a man and a woman make before God that involves promises and commitments. It’s a spectacular thing. The obvious point of taking the vows is to keep them–a promise to be faithful is meant to be kept, and if I could change the past–that would be my story.

That’s not my story.  However, my story still has the wonder of the blessing of a covenant. When my heart failed, my husband’s heart held tight to the covenant HE had made. When I was blind, he led me. When I couldn’t believe, he believed for me.

The first few weeks after the affair was disclosed I was horribly confused. My mind was completely out of kilter when it came to making the most basic decisions. On the very first day I said these words: “I’ll be okay if I end up alone.” Interestingly, that same night when “alone” came calling I had a near panic attack. I was lost in a world of fear, and my self-made isolation was a breeding ground for lies and insecurities. My nervous system was a wreck, and all of the tension and anxiety I had been pushing down came screaming out in the way of ticks and nail biting. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It’s amazing that my husband didn’t turn and run. And, why didn’t he?

Because he made a vow.

Even when I failed–he held his side of the vow. This is the reason I am so much more in awe of the marriage covenant.  The marriage covenant was not made for the days we spend on the beach watching the sunset. It wasn’t made for the late nights we sneak in and watch our children, or our grandchildren, sleeping in their beds. The marriage covenant was not made for the Instagram days. The marriage covenant was made for the days that one of us may feel like quitting.

On day two after disclosure, my husband looked at me and asked, “Do you want it to work?”  I had already asked myself that question over and over, so sadly, I knew the answer was not going to please him. I couldn’t tell him that I wanted it to work. The best I could give him was, “I want to want it to work.”

In that moment, when I might have given up, he wouldn’t quit. My husband remembered our covenant–for the both of us.

Brennan Manning talks about a time in his life when he longed for “more”. The unattainable “more” was leading him and his choices. First he searched for “more” in military accolades, then he searched for “more” by chasing his dreams of being a writer, until finally he had an encounter with God and he was given a glimpse of everything that Christ truly is. He describes it in All Is Grace,

It was not that I found the more but rather the more found me. Christianity was not some moral code; it was a love affair, and I had experienced it firsthand.

We have made a covenant with our Lord, and He longs to have a love affair with us. It’s a love affair that is made stronger by the covenant–a lot like a husband pursuing his wife whom he adores. And in the same way that my husband believed when I was trapped in a place of doubt, when we cannot find the unattainable more God allows His more to find us.

God longs for us with the same furious love that a husband longs for a wayward wife. He wants so badly to bring us back into the relationship that we once had, and He will stop at nothing in that pursuit.

The weddings of Kings and Queens, of Dukes and Royals, the wedding of even the fairest young Princess does not compete with the glorious day that we made that covenant with our Lord. Every wedding I attend reminds me of the strong man I married and of the faithful God who pursued me.

There is nothing that cannot be forgiven, and no vow broken that cannot mend. A wedding is a day, and a covenant is a lifetime. Jack and Billie McElroy

The Secret Life of a Tattle Tale
affair recovery · spiritual growth

The Secret Life of a Tattle Tale

Jacquelyn Sill1 Comment

As children we were quick to learn the pros and cons of being a tattle tale.  We learned that sometimes we could be a hero when being a tattle tale, especially if the behavior of others might have unintentionally caused someone to lose a limb.  In these instances, the parent often chose to overlook the tattle-telling that was occurring for the safety of others.  Other times it didn’t fare well to be the bearer of  disappointing news.  When there was a small injustice, and the parent was 7 weeks into summer vacation a tattle-telling instance may have been met with rolling eyes and sharp words from an exasperated parent.

Over the last couple months, I have been learning a great deal about being a tattle tale.  The person I am telling on is myself.

In a marriage where infidelity has occurred, there is a change in what accountability is required for the betrayed spouse to feel safe.  It isn’t unusual for couples to share an email or Facebook account to help maintain safe boundaries.  I can only imagine that every couple will deal with relearning trust differently.  There are different trigger points for everyone, and the couples will have to learn what those triggers are. According to affairhealing.com if accountability isn’t freely given, it’s going to be much harder for the couples to move forward towards lasting intimacy.

…if a cheating spouse has a genuine change of heart, he/she will want to prove their sincerity and will take the initiative in opening up the hidden areas of their lives to give assurance of their honesty.

Prior to my having an affair my husband was inquisitive to knowing what was on my mind.  He was always interested in knowing my heart–I was the one with the block, and I chose not to be honest.  I understand this differently than I did prior to my affair being disclosed, and now I want to open up to my husband–not because he stands over me watching every move I make.  I have a greater understanding of my triggers, and a better understanding of the reasons why I should not only listen to my thought life–but share it with him.  I have an understanding of how hiding small things will eventually grow to hiding larger things.

So…that’s all fine and dandy…but, what does that look like for the person who has nothing to hide? Ahhh…see, this is where the enemy gets us. There is always something to hide. Sometimes it appears harmless, but there are moments in all of our lives where we are in the position to open up and share–or keep silent. Keeping silent is a step towards isolation.

Our tendency is to try to conquer our demons on our own. We don’t see the monster we are facing as the GIGANTIC, SHARP TOOTHED, BLOOD-THIRSTY, EVIL CREATURE that it is. We see it as ‘a struggle’. We see a half truth as less offensive than a lie. We may even have the best intentions, “I don’t want to cause him to feel insecure…” Sometimes, we may even want to avoid a fight.

Not being completely honest may not be the same as having a secret cell phone, but withholding any part of ourselves from our spouse is the first step to giving ourselves to someone else.

4951204501_9e8a5ba3d2_zFor myself, I am learning to “tell on myself” when I am struggling with the emotional after affects of the affair.  I tell on myself when I am feeling sad. That may seem harmless, even silly, to some. Why would I struggle with telling my husband I am sad? Well, quite simply, since I am the one who caused all the heartache, I feel guilty when I am sad about the trials we are now facing.  The guilt I already felt for my betrayal was compounded when my husband lost his job due to my behavior. If I am not open and honest about my sadness and guilt, those emotions have the ability to morph into something more unpleasant and even sinful. Over time they can become a wedge between us.

When possible, I concentrate on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable. But, when what I am facing is not one of these things–I quickly become a tattle tale.

June Remembers December
spiritual growth

June Remembers December

Jacquelyn Sill1 Comment

When I was held captive by my sin, I lied to everyone I knew. I lied to my family and my closest friends, and even though I was doing it to myself, it was the loneliest time of my life. There was one area of my life where I couldn’t lie, and that was in my writing.  I couldn’t fake it when it came to writing. I had friends and family who were perplexed by the change they saw in me. “Why aren’t you writing anymore? We miss your blog…When are you going to publish the book you wrote?”

Yesterday in therapy I realized the reason I could not lie in my writing is because it is a place where I commune with God. When I am writing I release myself completely to Him. Oftentimes, I have no idea what I am going to say until my fingers are moving across the keyboard. I may have an idea of the concept, but as we are there together the words fall from my hands. That’s a scary place to be when you are watching every word that falls from your lips.

The attempts I did make at writing felt so fake, it compounded my guilt. This morning, I found one of the posts that I wrote in December 2013, and reading it now I can hear that the Spirit was nudging me towards confession and repentance. Now, don’t applaud–I didn’t obey the Spirit and come forward to confess. I was a cowardly sinner who avoided the shame, humiliation and pain until it was out of my control.

But, as I read my writing, I can hear that I did have faith in the hope that Emmanuel was coming to save me. Sometimes the way He saves us is in the exact way we would like to avoid. We want him to swoop down like Superman and remove us from the storm where we are in exile, but instead God walks with us as we head straight into the gale-force winds. On the other side of the storm, even as we travel through the barren land, there is peace. And, eventually He will take us to the promised land.

I am Israel (originally posted December 2013)

“I am Israel,” my voice bounces off my windshield and echoes through the car. Hearing the sound of my own voice jolts me a little and my emotions rise.

Israel in pain, you turned your eyes from God and focused on other gods to soothe the ache.
I am You in my pain. The ache is deep.
Israel in pride, you walked down the path of rebellion and selfishness.
I am you in my pride. I struggle to submit to God ways.
Israel in captivity, in your rebellion you chose these chains, and now your choices weigh heavy.
I am you in my captivity. The thing that I relied on to ease my pain now pushes me down and towers over me.

The dashboard displays the blinker and the tap, tap, tapping gets louder with each beat until the beating of my heart grabs a hold of the mechanical rhythm.

Emmanuel…Emmanuel
Emmanuel has come.
Emmanuel has come to set us free.

The blinker heartbeat turns to a Christmas carol. I hear the words I’ve known for years as new. Emmanuel has come to set us free. I am Israel and Emmanuel has come to set me free.

Depression cannot hold me down
Fear cannot captivate my nights
Sin cannot control my impulses
Anxiety cannot leave me breathless

I am Israel and Emmanuel has come to set me free.

The traffic light changes. As I turn the steering wheel with one hand, I reach across and switch on the radio. The soft whisper of the song treads easily across my heart and fills my soul with hope.

“O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.”

David and Jackie Sill with granddaughter Isla

The Lies We Believe
affair recovery · marriage

The Lies We Believe

Jacquelyn Sill10 Comments

I am an obsessive researcher, but only compulsively.  Driven by this nature, God spoke to me in a most unlikely place. Through a Google search I wound up on an advertising website reading an article entitled, Changing Beliefs Vs. Changing Behaviors. The article stated that while it is easy for advertisers to change customers behaviors, changing customers beliefs is a daunting task. In other words, if you are a die hard Coke fan, you may purchase Pepsi because it is on SALE–but deep inside, you still believe (and may be willing to argue) that Coke is better than Pepsi.

Now, I am not interested in the cola wars, or even in advertising. What I am interested in is the truth. Recently, I made a lot of self destructive decisions that ended up causing a great deal of pain, and knowing the truth about my motivations matters to me greatly.

One of the things that I’ve come to realize is that my belief about how I felt about my marriage was a major influence. According to Rick Reynolds, Founder and President of Affair Recovery,

“Most of us believe that the path to a better marriage is through better behavior, but that is not the full truth of the recovery process. In fact, it might not even be the most important thing. More frequently, the path to a better marriage is through changing the lens through which we view our mate.”

This is where is gets tricky, because this is where I unload some of my baggage, or “air some laundry.” Prior to meeting my husband, I had a habit of dating young men  who were not chivalrous. I gave myself completely to several relationships, and each relationship followed the same pattern of intimacy & thrill followed by rejection & heartache. My draw towards people who would treat me poorly increased. At the ripe young age of 21, I understood and even empathized with Glenn Close’s character in Fatal Attraction.

Then I met a very kind young man who treated me differently. His composure with me demonstrated the love that my Heavenly Father has for me. He was respectful and faithful. As much as I knew this was a good thing, it was equally confusing. During our engagement period, there were signs that I was struggling. I did not understand why I didn’t have the erratic feelings that I had experienced in the past. What I didn’t know was that the feelings to which I had become accustomed to were not associated with love, but rather with rejection.  I did not understand how to allow myself to be loved rather than used.

Being used was familiar and understood. This was new territory, and while I attempted to understand it–I didn’t talk to anyone about what I had come to believe, because sadly, what I had come to believe was that I had made a mistake. I had taken a vow, and I had started a family–what I felt was irrelevant. I assumed that as long as my behavior emulated a strong Christian wife, my heart would follow suit and walk the line.

Circa 1988

“If I just had the right behavior, it wasn’t important what I believed.”

Over the last several months, that lie has been shattered. I did not make a mistake when I married my husband. It’s a terrible lie and I don’t believe it anymore. It is also true that believing that lie is dangerous. Every single lie we tell ourselves is harmful. Every. Single. One.

Changing patterns of belief may be uphill work, but the Lord is in me and He is driving every step I take. Sometimes it’s unpleasant and ugly, but I am not interested in looking good on the outside and being confused on the inside. I am not interested in presenting a persona that isn’t true to who I am. The only reason I would strive for that would be if I were selling something. And, once again, I am not interested in advertising.

Text Messaging and Blow Dryers…Instruments of the Lord.
spiritual growth

Text Messaging and Blow Dryers…Instruments of the Lord.

Jacquelyn Sill6 Comments

“Evidence shows that women are less self-assured than men—and that to succeed, confidence matters as much as competence.” -The Atlantic

It was already decided. On Monday morning, between the hours of 10-11 AM, I would seek employment as a Food Server in the hip downtown area of a neighboring city. Working in that atmosphere would fit my personality and still allow me time to pour into my reading and writing. I had already scoped out the upscale restaurants where I hoped to garnish employment, and now I just needed to go in confidently and convince one of the establishments that hiring me was the best choice they would make this month.

Then the alarm went off. It wasn’t an audible alarm–it was an alarm inside of me that had been growing. My hope has been draining over the last few days and the alarming feeling inside was telling me that things were never going to get better, or feel different. My hopelessness was showing through to a few friends, and they were commenting on how important it was that I didn’t withdraw at this time. One friend was bold enough to say, “not allowing people to get close hurt you when it came to having people who would have called you out on the affair, or for you to talk about the feelings you were having.”

ouch.

As soon as I had chosen an outfit for the day, I grabbed my iPhone and worded a text message asking for prayer. I hoped that having others pray would sooth my nerves. My hands were shaking so badly, I had to resort to using the vocal commands to finish the text message. I asked for prayers of confidence. I knew I wanted to send it to a group of people, but I didn’t want to overload anybody’s phone and cause an explosion. I added names, and I deleted names. Satan was having a hey-day even in this simple task of texting. The inner voices started yelling, “She doesn’t want you to keep bothering her!…Don’t text her…she’s got enough on her plate!” and the winner of them all, “Seriously…you are asking for prayer to become a WAITRESS?”

Adding one of the names made me feel especially insecure. She is younger than I am, and busy with her toddler. She was my hairdresser for a couple of years, and I would have continued with her had my daughter not taken over the laborious task of covering my gray. I have admiration for her and her calm spirit, and she has been especially graceful in sending me text messages and in her willingness to pray for me over the last few months. But still…this request seemed so silly. Despite my fears, I added her to the group MMS.

text messaging and blow dryers

The group responded enthusiastically with prayerful responses. My heart was calming down, and I proceeded to apply my make-up with less shaky hand movements. My fears of the younger woman even subsided when she responded to the group text message with a verse:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline” 1 Timothy 2:7

I grabbed my blow dryer and began the arduous task of drying my locks. Almost immediately something shot out of the barrel. Then there were SPARKS and SMOKE. The blow dryer exploded and died.

Now, the death of a blow dryer on any occasion is a sad state of affairs, but this was unbelievable. I looked at the plastic carcass of the appliance that had served me so well over the years. Perhaps I should have felt sad for the blow dryer, but honestly, in that moment, I could only think of myself. “Are you kidding me?” I said to the lady with wet hair who stood in the mirror.

The first thing I thought of was the group text message. This was embarrassing. I had asked for prayer, and now it was evident that I was never going to make it to any of the upscale restaurants before the lunchtime rush. I imagined that my unreliable blow dryer would be annoying news to these godly women. I felt like a drug addict telling my sponsor that I had just smoked crack. Still, I had to tell them what was happening. Reluctantly, I typed out a text message sharing the news of my blow dryer’s demise.

Almost immediately, the younger woman responded, “I have an extra dryer if you need it!”

Within 15 minutes I found myself sitting in the downstairs bathroom of my former hairdresser’s home (which coincidentally is just 2 miles from the hip downtown city filled with upscale restaurants). My faithful friend used her blow dryer and her skills to style my hair so that I might go forward with confidence to seek employment.

hair styles

My heart swells and tears fill my eyes at the phenomenal way God works in our lives. The death of my blower dryer was not a surprise to God. He knew my blow dryer was on it’s last leg, and it was His Spirit within me who was prompting me to include her when asking for prayer. I didn’t need to have exceptionally well styled hair to go job hunting, but what I did need to experience was grace and faith in action. This woman was not merely using her words to proclaim that she would be there for me while I climbed out of the mess I had made, she was willing to use her time and her talent. THAT is LOVE. The enemy wants me to doubt myself and live in isolation–but that is not God’s plan for any of us. We are created and called to live in community. Sometimes others make decisions that make finding that community more difficult, but God will use any means to draw us closer to one another if we allow Him access to our lives.