John Mark Hicks

I was divorced in 2001 after eighteen years of marriage. I have no intent to assign blame in this post—if blame were assigned I am only beginning to see that I deserve much more than I would have earlier admitted.  I only want to speak of the experience of divorce itself, but even in that I can only speak of my own experience.  My feelings in the midst of divorce may not be the same as another’s. These are my own personal feelings about my own divorce.

These are the emotions and thoughts I felt and thought. Whether they accurately reflect the reality of the situation or whether they correspond with God’s own compassionate understanding of the circumstances is of little consequence because they are nonetheless what I felt and thought. Whether right or wrong, this is what I experienced.

I have rarely spoken or written of my divorce.  I’m not sure why—it still hurts and I certainly don’t want to speak for or about my ex, but perhaps it is mostly because these feelings still persist in some ways.  I share them here for the first time in writing though I have spoken about them (but only on two occasions).

Incredulous.  I wanted to cry out “this is not the way it is supposed to be!”  I did not marry in order to get divorced.  Even now—almost seven years later—it is still difficult to believe that I am a “divorced person.” I still feel it even though I have remarried and enjoy a new relationship with Jennifer.

Failure.  What could I have done differently? How could I have messed up the most important thing in my life?  I failed at the most important relationship in my life. How could I feel good about that? How can I recover from that? If I failed in this, what does this say about me and about any future relationships I might have?  How can I minister to others when I failed to minister to my own wife?

Hurt.  Not only, of course, my own hurt, but the hurt that reverberates throughout the lives of my children and others. This is generational pain that entails wounds that will affect my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  My heart hurts not only for my own loss but the losses that are yet to be felt in the lives of those connected with me.

Guilt.  God hates divorce, and so do I.  I have felt the burden of the sin of divorce on many occasions; I have felt the guilt of failure.  My marriage did not image the oneness of God’s own loving community.  Instead, brokenness and woundedness destroyed my marriage’s oneness.

Shame.  This is the most nasty of all feelings.  It is more devastating than guilt.  I feel guilt for my part in my divorce–guilt relates to what I have done.  But shame is something I feel because of my identity as a “divorced person.” Shame relates to who I am; it is a mode of existence. It reaches to the core of my own self-image.

Rejection.  The rejection may even be mutual, but the feeling of rejection is nevertheless real.  Whether the rejection is passive in the sense of distance or withdrawal or whether the rejection is something else, the result is the same.  At one time one feels chosen—the one the other wants and desires, but now rejected. Now the divorced—on both sides—feel unchosen.

Embarrassment.  Wearing the big “D” on the forehead is like wearing the scarlet “A”. The failure, hurt, shame and rejection are public—everyone knows about it. Some disconnect from you. Some distance themselves.  Others don’t want their children to marry your children. Some churches don’t want you to serve among them. I sometimes didn’t even want to show up at the assembly.  Who am I to minister to people when I could not even minister to my own wife?

Brokenness.  Life is different.  Everything, it seems, has changed.  Loneliness becomes a part of life in a way that it had not before. It seems that it will never be the same again.  Who can put Humpty Dumpty back together again? I wondered whether I would ever heal and in some ways I still have not healed.  The trauma is massive.

Disconnected from Community. I became uneasy with my old circle of friends, especially the married ones. It didn’t seem the same anymore.  I stuck out like a sore thumb. Being with married friends only reminded me of the pain of my loss and the reality of my loneliness.  They were not the problem, but my circumstances took me to places in my mind that skewed even their best efforts to show me friendship.

Jealousy.  I confess it.  I am jealous of those whose marriages have survived for 30, 40, 50 years.  I wanted to be in that number myself and thought I would be. I do rejoice with others at those anniversaries…but I also admit that have a strong tinge of envy and jealousy at the same time.  My brokenness remains with me.

How do you help?  I’m not sure but perhaps I will offer a few thoughts later.  But for now just sit with me as I experience my own feelings.  Sit with me without judgment, without correction, without condemnation…but as a friend ready to listen, pray and embrace.

Recommended Reading. For the questions surrounding the practical theological and ethical issues, I would recommend Rubel Shelly’s recent Divorce & Remarriage: A Redemptive Theology. For practical spiritual, emotional and redemptive perspectives on divorce and life after divorce, I would recommend Dana Hood’s recent I Will Change Your Name: Messages From the Father to a Heart Broken by Divorce.

I had not posted on my blog since August till today. I apologize.

I have been in Europe since September 7 till the end of December, and then with the holidays and school beginning….well, I do have some excuses though they are, perhaps, not sufficient.

In any event, I will try to be more attentive though I cannot make any promises. I still have many projects on the table–several journal articles due soon, a book manuscript due soon, and working on another collaborative project with thirteen other writers.

Nevertheless, it is good to be back in the saddle…for a while.

Blessings

John Mark

My wedding day. Sheila Pettit was my bride. We married in Ellijay, Georgia.

I was 19 years old, though I had just graduated a few weeks before from Freed-Hardeman College. I was nervous, but excited.

We had dreams…and plans. First we would housesit for various people as I served as a summer Youth Minister for the Springfield Church of Christ in Springfield, VA just outside of Washington, D.C. Then in late August we would move to Philadelphia, PA where I would attend Westminster Theological Seminary.

We moved to Philly with no money. All our savings had paid tuition for the first semester. We had no jobs, but we had paid the first month’s rent on our apartment. We were going faith or perhaps naivete. Nevertheless, the Lord blessed us. We both found jobs within two weeks–including a preaching opportunity at the NE Philadelphia Church of Christ.

We had dreams. We planned to serve God in Germany, perhaps behind the Iron Curtain.

That first year was exhiliarting, and as with all first years of marriage a learning experience…learning to adjust to each other in our love.

We experienced tragedy that first year. Sheila had a miscarriage. But we were surrounded with a healing community in our small church.

It began on May 22, 1977…29 years ago today. It ended on April 30, 1980 when she died.

May 21 and May 22 come right after each other. I sort of wish they were spread out a bit. Those two days bring a mixture of sadness and joy to my heart. They are part of the stuff of my life and give meaning to my life.

And they (Joshua and Sheila) have shaped my life and enable me to be the person I am–whatever that is worth. But it is worth something because God has given me love once again and the joy of relationship and intimacy with Jennifer.

God be praised. He gives and he takes away, but he keeps on giving…and one day his gift will be without end.

Joshua,

I miss you. You died five years ago today.

There are times when I look around for you and expect you to be there. There are times when I remember your laugh, your smile and your hyperactive joy. They bring a smile to my face. You created laughter in our family even when we knew you would not always be with us.

There are times when I remember your suffering. I remember your aching joints, your deteriorating mind and capabilities, and your loss of activity. I remember your last years confined to a wheelchair or a bed.

Laughter and suffering–you experienced both, and your led us through both. We laughed with you and because of you. We suffered with you and watched you suffer. And both had their value, though I often wonder what exactly the value of your suffering was, if any.

Joshua, you gave us laughter and we also wept with you as you suffered. Life has not been the same without you. Life changes. Lives go on. But there is a hole in my heart that belongs to you. One day that hole will be filled as we see each other again.

I guess what I miss most is to hear you say “I love you.” Though you died at 16, I have not heard those words since you were 10. I long to hear them again. But though you could not say it, your cooing, your snuggling, your eyes conveyed it. Those are the memories that linger, and they are the hopes that will be fulfilled.

Joshua, I long to hold you again, speak to you and love on you. And I know one day I will.

Until then, my son, I will hold you dear in my memory….but there is a at least one joy that is not memory. My son, I enjoy my weekly time with you at the table of the Lord which we share with all the saints, past and present, every Sunday. There we meet in sweet communion with our common Savior and God.

Joshua, I miss you….but I’ll “see” you again next Sunday, my son. Rest in the peace of God’s arms and may God give my heart a share in that peace with you.

Love,

Dad

It is not a significant date for everyone, but it is for me. It was the beginning of a new journey in my walk with God.

Prior to April 30, 1980, I thought I had God basically “figured out.” Oh, I don’t mean that I arrogantly thought I had fully comprehended God or knew everything there was to know about God. By no means! Twenty-two year old ministers can be quite arrogant, but I was not that arrogant.

Nevertheless, I was working on the quid pro quo plan. I thought that if I did my part–did the best I could, sought the will of God, dreamed big for God’s church and my ministry–then God would do his part. That is, he would bless my plans, dreams and goals. God would be “good” to me because I was “good” to him.

I may not have thought of it that crassly and memory does play tricks on you, but I am certain that my understanding of God was rather mechanistic. I did my part–I worked the plan, and God did his part–he would bless. It was an impersonal understanding of God; non-relational at its heart. It was as if God had worked out a deal with humanity, and me in particular. It was a pactum, to borrow a term from medieval nominalism. God and I had a contract.

But God did not keep his end of the bargain.

I planned to do big things for God–missionary to Germany, doctoral work under Pannenberg in Munich, and then return to the States to teach theology and missions in one of our Universities. I was going to do my part–I had goals, dreams and hopes. And I had expectations. I expected God to do his part.

But God did not keep his end of the bargain.

On April 30, 1980, at about 3:00am in the morning I was awoken with the news that Sheila, my wife since May 22, 1977, was dead. She died when a blood clot went through her heart as she slept. She was recovering from back surgery that would have permitted her to carry our children full term.

God did not keep his end of the bargain!

My mechanical understanding of God went kaput! It took me many years to work through what exactly shifted in my thinking as a result of that experience. It involved months and years of lament, some rebellion, frustration with God, shifting theologial thoughts, and even silence (refusing to speak to God). But ultimately somewhere along the way–almost unidentifiable in my experience–I shifted from a mechanical to a relational understanding of God.

This shift was primarily a shift in my understanding of prayer, providence and God’s work in the world. But the shift had implications for my understanding of the Holy Spirit, worship, grace, etc. In other words, my whole theology made a slow turn toward the relational. My “doctrine of God” shifted and as a result my whole theological orientation shifted.

As I think back on that slow shift that began on April 30, 1980, I am awed by how I was changed through that experience. I can even confess with the Psalmist that “it was good for me to be afflicted” (Psalm 119:71).

God was not seeking a pactum with me, but engaging me in a relationship. While journey language has become almost cliche, it is nevertheless the reality of my walk with God. And the journey took a radical turn on April 30, 1980….twenty six years ago today.

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

I will be absent from blogging for a few days. Unfortunately, I will have to endure some baseball games at Wrigely field in Chicago. 🙂

My brother, Jack Hicks, is a radio engineer for the Washington Nationals. He makes sure the game is “aired.” And it falls my lot to sit with him in the Press Box for the Friday and Saturday games this week. I think I will enjoy it.

Jen, Lacey and Ashley are also going with me. Lacey’s birthday present is to see a friend she made while we were in Vienna, Austria for three months. They have recently moved to Chicago. And part of her birthday present is to visit the American Girl Store in Chicago–unfortunately, a potential tower of Babel to American consumerism. 🙂 But she has saved her money and she knows where she wants to spend it.

It is also the weekend of Chicago’s “Venetian Nights” as well as the “Tasete of Chicago” where 100 eateries gather in Grant Park every night to feed visitors. One can taste almost any dish from around the world.

Shalom, and enjoy your holiday!

John Mark

I just returned from twelve days in Hawaii. It was a wonderful experience. I spent several days with my daughter, Rachel. It was her HS graduation present. She could choose anywhere she wanted to go, but she had to go with me and only me. Poor me, she chose Hawaii. After some days with her, my wife (Jennifer) joined me for the last several days in Hawaii.

Kevin Gilbert ministers for the Wahiawa Church on Oahu. He had asked about coming there several times. Consequently, I combined ministry with pleasure–or perhaps a pleasurable ministry–and consented to speak at the church several times while there. I spoke there on Friday and Saturday evening, and then at a combined service with the Christian Church in Haleiwa on the North Shore. I spoke on unity: shared water (same baptism), shared worship (around the same throne), and shared table (same Supper).

Kevin (Ph.D. from Southern Seminary in theology) is now Academic Dean at the International College and Graduate School in Honolulu. It is an interdenominational undergraduate school and seminary.

God blessed us with a wonderful time of re-creation through scenic beauty, wonderful weather, enjoyable fellowship and historic tours (Arizona Memorial). And our most enjoyable moment was a time of fellowship last Sunday morning with a combined gathering of members of the Church of Christ and Waialua Christian Church on the North Shore. God is good.

Shalom,

John Mark

I am sorry that I have not posted in quite some time. I apologize to those who regularlly keep up with my blogs.

This past week I was in Memphis teaching my class entitled “Providence and Suffering.” And tomorrow I leave for Hawaii and will be gone till June 22.
When asked to come to be with a church in Hawaii for a weekend, well, it is hard to say no. 🙂

Seriously, I leave tomorrow with my daughter Rachel who recently graduated from High School. Her graduation gift is to spend some father-daughter time with her “old man” but she gets to choose the place. So, tomorrow we leave for Hawaii. Jen will join me there on June 16.

Upon my return from my “working vacation,” I hope to pick up the task of blogging once again.

Romans 15:13

Shalom

John Mark

“Does remembering you son cause you pain?”

That is a tough question to answer. Yes and No. Yes, to relive some of the moments of hurt is painful. To relive the moment the doctor told us that Joshua was not going to get better. To relive the moment his body was carried from our house to the funeral home. Those are painful memories. To walk through them in my mind is to generate tears in my eyes.

But also, No. To remember how Barbara rocked Joshua in the “big chair” and sang to him is to remember her love for him and his bright smile, looking into her eyes. To remember his loud laugh is to remember the joy he brought into our lives. To remember how we cared for him is to remember how God loves the weak. To remember such things also generates tears, but different kinds of tears, tears of joy.

So, I want to remember. Even the painful memories remind me of the authentic hurt that is part of this world. But, more importantly, to remember is to give value to Joshua’s life and remember how his life shaped me. To forget him would be to negate his value and existence. To remember him is to value him.

I am part of an ongoing small group of parents who have lost children. One of the things I hear often in that group is how they love to talk about their children, and how much it means for someone to ask about them. Too often people are afraid (and understandably so) to remember with us since they are fearful that we might be hurt by remembering.

But actually one of the greatest joys of a parent who has lost a child is from someone to remember their child. We need people to “remember with us,” share with us about our children, and walk with us. We love to remember our children, but we don’t want to burden you with our pain. We don’t want to hurt you, or perhaps worse bore you. And that is why we react so openly when you want to talk about our children. We love to remember–it renews their value in our lives.

When you meet someone who has lost a child, I know it can be awkward as to what to say or do or how to react. Let me offer a few suggestions. Ask, “What is your child’s name?” [Note: “is” not “was”. Our children still live!] To name a child is to give identity, reality and value. That you want to know their name says something about how you care. Ask a question about the child–it shows you are interested. Be willing to listen as we remember, and don’t change the subject. Share our joy, and perhaps also our pain.

Thanks for remembering with me. It may hurt a little to remember, but it would hurt more if no one remembered.

May 22 was also a difficult day. Sheila and I married on that day in 1977, twenty-eight years ago. It would have been our 28th anniversary. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to be married to the same woman for 28 years. I must admit that I envy those couples that have had such a life-long experience and see their children grow up in the Lord together.

But May 22 was also the day I attended my 18 year old daughter’s bacculaurete service. She graduates from High School on Friday. Rachel is not Sheila’s child, but mine through my second wife–Barbara. How can I mourn Sheila and at the same time rejoice in Rachel? I do both. It does not seem “logical” but I gave up a while back on our experience of joy, sorrow and God as “logical.” I just live, experience, relish, lament, mourn, rejoice and express my feelings to God…whether joy or sorrow. He gives both and I experience both, and I trust both serve ends to which he is leading me.

So, yesterday, I mourned and I rejoiced; I lamented and I celebrated. It was a good day for a tear but also for a smile. Life is like that. We experience the “evil and the good”–and we continue our journey of faith into the life of God.

And life moves toward someone…it moves toward God. And we enjoy God’s new gifts–like the new gift God gave me in 2002, Jennifer. Her love as been a means by which God has comforted my soul and cared for my wounds.

The journey will yet have bumps, wounds and hurts….every journey does. But God is walking alongside and also standing in the future drawing me toward the fullness of his Triune fellowship. The future is the reality where full joy, renewal and healing awaits. I long for it, but as long as today is today, I will yet rejoice in God’s gifts in the present….knowing that they will be carried forward into the future, consummated and enriched.

Shalom, my friends.

John Mark