For a long time, I believed that leaving meant failing.
Not because anyone said those exact words.
But because one phrase echoed through my mind over and over:
“God hates divorce.”
I carried those words like a weight around my neck.
Every time I considered leaving, they resurfaced.
Every time I prayed for wisdom, they whispered accusations.
Every time I imagined a life beyond the abuse, they reminded me of my vows.
So I stayed.
And stayed.
And stayed.
Not because things were getting better.
Not because I felt safe.
But because I desperately wanted to honor God.
I wanted to do the right thing.
I wanted to be faithful.
What I didn’t realize then was that somewhere along the way, I had begun listening to fear more than I was listening to God.
Because while Scripture does tell us that God hates divorce, it also tells us something else:
God hates violence.
God hates oppression.
God hates injustice.
And God loves His children.
He does not ask His children to become sacrifices on the altar of someone else’s sin.
God never asked me to drown in order to prove I was faithful.
For years, I viewed my marriage through the lens of what I thought I was supposed to endure.
Now I see it differently.
Marriage was designed to reflect God’s love.
His faithfulness.
His protection.
His kindness.
His sacrifice.
It was never designed to reflect control, manipulation, fear, cruelty, or abuse.
In a perfect world, there would be no divorce because there would be no betrayal.
No deception.
No violence.
No brokenness.
But we do not live in a perfect world.
We live in a world where people make choices.
Some people choose honesty.
Others choose destruction.
Some choose love.
Others choose cruelty.
And throughout Scripture, we see God repeatedly stepping into broken situations to rescue His people from those who would harm them.
He delivered Israel from Egypt.
He protected Hagar when she was cast out.
He defended widows and the vulnerable.
He drew near to the brokenhearted.
Again and again, we see the heart of God.
Not standing beside the oppressor.
Standing beside the oppressed.
Looking back now, I can see something I missed for many years.
God was not condemning me.
He was sustaining me.
When I couldn’t see a path forward, He became my light.
When I felt like I was drowning, He became my anchor.
When everything around me felt unstable, He became my rock.
There were days I couldn’t feel His presence.
Days I questioned everything.
Days I wondered whether He had forgotten me.
But He never did.
Not once.
Even in the darkest chapters of my story, He was quietly carrying me.
And when the storm finally became too dangerous to stay in, He did not abandon me there.
He led me through it.
“God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.”
Psalm 46:1
That doesn’t mean healing has been easy.
It hasn’t.
Some days still hurt.
Some days still bring grief.
But I have learned something beautiful on this side of survival:
God’s faithfulness is not dependent on the weather.
He is faithful in the sunshine.
He is faithful in the storm.
He is faithful when the waters are calm.
And He is faithful when the waves are crashing over the side of the boat.
The storm does not change who He is.
It only reveals how firmly He holds us.
Maybe you need to hear that today.
Maybe you’re standing in the middle of a storm of your own.
Maybe you’re carrying guilt.
Fear.
Questions.
Or wounds no one else can see.
If so, I want you to know this:
God is not asking you to drown in order to prove your faithfulness.
He is the One reaching out His hand.
He is the One steadying the boat.
He is the One standing with you in the waves.
And no matter how fierce the storm becomes, He remains what He has always been:
Your refuge.
Your shelter.
Your anchor.
Your rock.
And He has not let go of you.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
— Jewel ✨