And I was in the same boat. At my wedding, I had promised, in front of God, to love, honor and obey Bob, and to stay married to him until one of us died. So I realized that God expected me to stay married.

“Now that I’ve repented, and got this sorted out with God,” I thought, “surely things will improve? Surely God will be on my side at last?”

It just didn’t happen like that. Over and over again I had to go to Psalm 62:8

Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”

One school principal, when I used to take a problem to him, would say, “Leave it with me - I’ll attend to it.” So I did, because I knew from past experience that he would. And somehow I felt that God would act the same way when I left a problem with him. But why was He taking so long to come to my rescue? I was learning, by bitter experience, that just as in my marriage there was no automatically living “happily ever after”, so my relationship with God was also having its ups and downs. My relationship with my husband had to be worked on continually; and so did my relationship with my God. And both were very hard work!

And so the days of disharmony and distress dragged on. But I made sure I avoided “mind games” with Bob. I flatly refused to say things like “I wish you’d never been born!”, “I wish I’d never married you!”, “I wish you were dead!” I knew that God was aware of my every thought, word, action - so many times I restrained myself. Bob, it seemed, had no such restraints. He said or did whatever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to, however he wanted to.

I thought I knew what loneliness was. I had been lonely as a young child because we had had to move from place to place during the war, so I didn’t have the opportunity to make friends.

I was lonely during my teenage years. I hadn’t learned how to mix with others and I couldn’t invite other kids home to my place because I never knew when Pop was going to get drunk and violent.

So I had no friends of my own age.

Of course, when I married I thought that I would never be lonely again. A man on a desert island can expect to feel lonely, because he is deprived of human companionship. But loneliness within marriage - impossible!

How wrong I was - how very wrong! For years I suffered loneliness of heart and soul and mind that went so deep that it would be more accurate to describe it as a desolation of spirit.

At a personal level I meant nothing to the one I was now united to for life! I was only a possession - required to be at his beck and call.

The car and I had a lot in common. The only time either of us got any attention from Bob was when we weren’t “performing” properly.

And this desolation of soul became a fertile breeding ground for bitterness. And bitterness became more and more a characteristic of my disposition - no wonder I wasn’t making much progress at winning Bob to the Lord!

I knew this was wrong - but I was light years away from being the kind of Christian described in Eph 4:31-32a

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger,... Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other.”

Why should I be kind and compassionate toward him? How could I - since I was seething in rage the whole time? These kinds of verses only fueled my anger, so I conveniently ignored the other part of verse 32: “just as in Christ God forgave you."

I was bitter because:
Bob never expressed any affection for me. “Well, I married you didn’t I?” hardly counts. So the more unloved I felt, the more unlovable I became - not that I was aware of it of course. Naturally it was all my husband’s fault - he was the one making me miserable, wasn’t he?

I was bitter because:
Everyone outside the family home saw only the kind, gentle, easy-going, family-loving man. “Where on earth did you find him? Hang on to him. He’s a real gem.” I wanted to scream.

A close friend once said “I’ve noticed how protective he is toward you.” Funny - I hadn’t.

An elder said to me once. “Your husband’s a very placid fellow isn’t he?”

“Yes!” I snapped back, “Providing he is getting his own way!”

And because of my desperate situation, I was vulnerable to any man who treated me with kindness and warmth, compassion and understanding.

Grantley Morris, in his webpage Christian Carer’s Guide, How to Comfort Hurting People, warns: “There is probably nothing on earth more powerful in bonding one person to another than the sharing of a dark, long-kept secret. The effect is greatest with the very first person to both hear the secret and remain warmly accepting after the revelation.”

How very true these words are! To be treated as a worthwhile person, as a person worth bothering with, is like someone being given chocolates and roses, who has only dry crusts to eat and weeds to smell. I was, and still am, the living embodiment of someone who is susceptible to this kind of bonding. Very filling stuff - for a while.

No, I was never physically unfaithful to Bob, but that doesn’t mean that the longing wasn’t there. And Christ said in Matthew 5:28

“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

“For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery,”

So in God’s eyes I was just as guilty as if I had gone “all the way”. That was, of course, until I repented of my wrong thoughts and sought His forgiveness.

I was bitter because:
Every Mothers’ Day (or so it seemed to me) at Church, the message was based on Proverbs 31 - “The Ideal Wife and Mother.” I came to hate this Scripture because it was a constant reminder to me of what a failure I was as a wife and mother.

I was bitter because:
All the books I read about “How To Win Your Husband To Christ” were written by “godly”, “spiritual” women, who were happily married to CHRISTIAN husbands. And people like me who had deliberately chosen to marry outside of the will of God, were regarded and treated as “carnal”, “worldly”, second-class Christians. No matter how true that was where I was concerned, I cannot remember ONE speaker or writer offering a word of comfort. I was seen as being totally to blame. Even now my stomach turns at the thought of the sweet smiling faces on the back covers. These people didn’t have a clue what my life was like - how could they?

But they were, at least, more realistic than a certain well-known, widely-published Christian author who wrote about how to be a good Christian. He dealt with the topic of unequal marriages by just stating that it should never happen. Not one word of comfort or counsel was offered to those who had already taken this wrong step. So obviously people like me didn’t exist.

I was bitter because:
Our life behind the bedroom door was a constant source of contention. If I was in the bedroom - but I wasn’t asleep - well, the bedroom has only two purposes - doesn’t it? Not that being asleep made any difference. If he had the “urge” he had the “urge”, and – as he also frequently reminded me - I was his legal wife. I think this meant that he viewed me the same way as he viewed the car; as his possession to be available 24 hours a day. And if you think I’m being blunt you are mistaken. This is mild compared to what I’d like to say!

His idea of what was “fun” was very different from mine. It would have helped me if I could have read Grantley Morris’ webpage “When Marital Relations Become a Moral Dilemma” But there was no information of that quality around.

And naturally Bob didn’t understand my wanting to be in the bedroom – ON MY OWN – to have my Quiet Time with God.

Later on, I discovered I loved computers - and that became a real problem. Because I chose to stay up late playing computer games; so that hopefully he would soon fall asleep, and we could thus avoid our usual confrontation about the other purpose for the bedroom.

Because I was a Christian I always said “yes” when he got one of his urges - but so often the “yes” came through gritted teeth. You see, there was no such thing as “love-making”; it was straight out “having sex”. He had been brought up on a farm, his only knowledge came from watching the animals. Therefore sex to him was simply having a biological need, in the same way as one needs food or drink. To describe our marriage as “dysfunctional” is a bit like saying that Bill Gates has a few dollars! So - since we were constantly pulling in opposite directions - we were DEFINITELY unequally yoked together!

I was bitter because:
He used manipulation and emotional blackmail. If I didn’t say “yes”; then whatever treat he had promised our KIDS for the next day was cancelled. And it was behind the bedroom door where the plant of bitterness sent down its strongest roots and really flourished.

Bitterness toward my husband? Yes – but only partly. The major thrust of my bitterness was toward God Himself. You see, because I was married in the mid 1950s, I had promised to “love, honor and obey”. As the emotional gap between us grew wider and wider, I shook my fist at God because so many times I only conformed to my husband’s unjust demands on me because I had promised, before God, to obey him. So every time I was angry with my husband, I was also angry with God. And every time I had to apologize to my husband, I had to apologize to God too. Bob never saw himself as being in the wrong, so naturally he felt that there was nothing to say sorry for! The way I saw it was that God was on Bob’s side, since I was the one who always had to do the obeying, and the apologizing. So I was in a no-win situation. Talk about a double whammy! I share more about this in my webpage My Stormy Relationship With God.

I was bitter because:
One of my elders was also a family doctor, so I went to his medical clinic, turning to him for comfort, encouragement and support. What a waste of time! What an embarrassment, after telling him about the events in the “bedroom”. For “bedroom” read any time, anywhere, any place, anyhow.

• Any time - Like five minutes before we are to leave for our daughter’s Prize Giving. “Come on, Mum, we’re waiting for you and Dad!”
• Anywhere: - Like in the compartment of a train - with all the kids. “But we’ve got a rug.”
• Any place: - Like in my nephew’s bedroom when we were visiting. “But someone might come in!” They did.
• Anyhow: - Like when I was eight months pregnant, and fearful for my unborn baby. Bob was a heavily-built man.

Not that the process took long! How long does it take to gulp down a drink of water if you’re thirsty?

This doctor’s compassionate advice? “Have a cup of tea before you go to bed.” Hadn’t he listened to a word I’d said? Oh – if it were only that simple! If only a cup of tea could ease the pain in my soul, the despair that was rapidly becoming my companion, the hopelessness that threatened to engulf me after years of being treated as a non-person, without rights or needs of my own!

I had been emotionally rejected by my parents. Now I was being emotionally rejected by my husband! Not only that - the man who had promised to “love, honor and cherish” me, (‘cherish’? Huh!!! I don’t think he knew the meaning of the word!), was the actual cause of my deepest distress and degradation! And a cup of tea was supposed to fix THAT? And what hurt even more was that for YEARS I had prayed to find a CHRISTIAN doctor; someone who would understand my dilemma (or so I fondly thought!)

This particular disappointment highlighted why I didn’t like “feel-good” songs such as: Bloom where you’re planted. My trouble was, God hadn’t planted me where I was - so how could I ever bloom? So I never felt that I could really rely on God to come through for me. Not only that, I felt that nothing I did could ever please Him, because I could not undo the mistake I’d made in the first place, marrying outside of the will of God. So, no matter how hard I tried, I felt I had no way of getting close to God. I had let Him down badly - why would He want my company? Oh I knew I would still end up in Heaven, because God would keep His promise, and stick to me. I often thought that when I got to Heaven, I’d be dumped in the back blocks somewhere, but I wouldn’t be welcome up at the “House”.

That led to despair. Despair aggravated by my memories of my sins. As a young child the worst thing I did was lie. I didn’t steal, cheat, give cheek, mix with the wrong kind of kids, (no other kids – right or wrong – wanted me).

And as a married woman, my biggest "obvious" sins were being untidy, overeating and being critical. I didn’t drink, smoke or gamble. But these things had never been a bone of contention between God and me. He just continually chipped away at them.

The thing that had ALWAYS affected my relationship with God had been my hassles with sex. My sexual experimenting when I was a teenager; my bitterness and resentment of Bob’s incessant demands; being sexually attracted to the wrong men; battling sexual fantasies.

My early understanding of God came through the churches. And what sin did churches thunder against most? Immorality! And what did they mean by immorality? A lust for sex!

Murder, theft, lying – were all described as sinful – but they were never referred to as being immoral! That was why I always felt so degraded, so depraved, so intrinsically evil. And, in a way, getting to know God better actually made it worse. God was holy – I was anything but! Christ was pure - I didn’t know the meaning of the word! I just wanted to crawl under a rock. As the saying goes, I felt so low that I could have walked under a snake with my umbrella up. Yes – I thought of suicide. But I couldn’t think of any explanation that God would accept.

Our children came quickly, so perhaps for a while I didn’t notice how lonely I was. Also my in-laws were very kind and supportive. But as time went on the loneliness of spirit and soul really started to bite. I didn’t seem to be able to get close to God because of my constant fights with Him over Bob. Because of being pregnant so often, (with miscarriages in between), I couldn’t build up strong ties with my local church, as my attendance was spasmodic. Also, this was in a small country town, and I was still regarded more or less as a stranger, so I didn’t fit in anywhere. However, God in His kindness, provided me with one dear lady who became my spiritual mother.

But this was in the late 1950s, early 1960s. We were too poor to have the phone on - Bob was the only one working. Because I had had four kids in quick succession, (the first one was not yet five when the fourth one was born), I couldn’t work. So if I wanted to talk to the only real friend I had, I had to load the kids into the car. Ever tried having a “deep and meaningful” conversation with a friend, with four little kids at foot? I wasn’t physically isolated from people, but I certainly was spiritually.

Naturally I prayed for my husband’s salvation. Yes, there was quite a selfish ingredient, I thought it would make life easier for me. You see I had this dream - you probably have it too. I used to say to myself How wonderful it will be when Bob comes to the Lord. He will take his rightful place as spiritual head of the house, we will kneel down and pray together, and we will have Family Devotions around the table. It didn’t happen.

One incident really terrified me - because it showed a side of me that I didn’t know existed. Bob was lying on the couch, reading the newspaper. I was trying - for the umpteenth time - to get him to understand just how distressed I was about the situation between us. Bob was the strong, silent type - men don’t have emotions. As usual, he only considered himself, so he totally ignored me. I suddenly realized that if a hammer had been within my grasp I would have grabbed it and literally, physically, used it to try to knock some sense into him. I have never felt so violent - either before or since. Panic-stricken at my own reaction, I fled the house.

I went around to my minister. He heard me out, then said, quite correctly: “Naturally Mrs. Doormat, I only have your version of what is happening in your marriage. I need to talk to your husband. I’ll ring him, and ask him to come around.” I was quite happy for him to do this. My husband’s reply - as relayed to me by my minister – was, “I don’t have time.” The minister and I having nothing further to say to each other, I left.

But I daren’t go home. I was too terrified of what I might do. (My husband never physically abused me in my life. It was just continual mental and emotional degradation.) So I stayed at a cheap hotel in a nearby suburb for a couple of days until I cooled down. I didn’t want to run the risk of running into him..

I finally went home, and he acted as though nothing had happened. This sounds fine - except that it meant that the disharmony in our marriage was once more swept under the carpet instead of being dealt with.

So once again I felt betrayed; betrayed by my husband who had promised to love, honor and cherish me; by my minister, who had no help for me since he couldn’t talk to my husband, - and worst of all, by my God - who seemed totally indifferent to my plight, and whose only interest in me seemed to be making sure that I obeyed my husband.

Did I ever consider divorce? No. My marriage was permanent, in God’s eyes and in mine. This was non-negotiable. However I did consider separation. But there was a problem. In those days society at large didn’t recognize such things as psychological and verbal abuse. It was not into accepting how damaging and devastating these can be to a person’s well-being and sense of worth. Since I didn’t have one physical bruise, one broken bone, one limp to display; society in general, and my church in particular, would have taken a dim view of me walking out on a man who was so “good” to me. They couldn’t see that in my soul there was “no soundness – only wounds and welts and open sores, not cleansed or bandaged or soothed with oil.” I had gaping emotional wounds. And they bled continually.

God could see - but He didn’t seem to care. I felt that His attitude was the same as society’s. I felt I couldn’t give Him a good enough reason for leaving Bob - so I stayed. So our marriage limped on. It was stable, since neither of us believed in divorce, and Bob seemed content with things as they were. Throughout my marriage I tried to love and serve God, I still read my Bible regularly, went to church as often as possible, gave regularly. I taught my kids little Christian songs like Jesus loves me, this I know, For the Bible tells me so. The problem was, although I taught this to my kids, I didn’t really believe it for myself. I could believe it for them, because they were young and innocent. I wasn’t. And I continually carried a burden of guilt because I had defied God’s will in marrying a non-Christian. I don’t think I could accept His forgiveness. And I found it VERY hard to forgive myself.

You stupid idiot! I told myself. You should have know better! I felt such a failure that I made little attempt to get Bob to treat me decently. I guess I felt I deserved what was happening to me. I was very much like Peter was in Matthew 14:22-33.

The disciples were in a boat in the middle of the night. Jesus came to them, walking on the sea. Peter called out “I want to do it too, Lord!”

“Okay,” said Jesus, “Come on.” So Peter climbed out of the boat. He looked at Jesus – and walked on the water. Then he looked at the rough waves – and started to sink.

I had taken my eyes off Jesus, and was too busy looking at the “rough waves” of my circumstances. I didn’t know God well enough to believe that He felt any compassion for me.