Ministry to Families Struggling with Divorce Issues

by Cleo Ludwick, M.Div., D.Min.

I remember riding home from Detroit after visiting my gramma and grampa. I got into a fight with my two sisters, and Dad stopped the car and screamed at me. When we got home, he helped all of us into the house, and then he left. He never came back. I was nine. During those first days all the fun things we had done flashed right out of my head and all the bad things came in and stayed there. My life sort of changed. Like I used to be happy and suddenly I was sad and mad. -a 16-year-old boy

There may be no human experience that causes so much pain and so many continuing problems as divorce. The whole family suffers. Each member harbors a wide range of negative feelings. There may be no time a family needs the Presence of God more. Yet, for several reasons, it is often the time when individuals, and even whole families, abandon God.

One young woman, looking back 6 years since her divorce confessed: "My family was horrified and appalled and maintained a stony silence. They felt this divorce, the first in our family's history, was something I was doing to them. My women friends were scared by what I was doing. I think they operated on the assumption that divorce was contagious, so they removed themselves from the scene of the crime. I couldn't worship with my family and friends, knowing how they viewed my decision to leave an impossible marriage and feeling the isolation that evoked within me. As I talk, I recognize this is a cautionary tale without a moral: if I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know today, I'd get divorced all over again. The truth is, a bad marriage is a horrible experience. The trouble is, so too often is a 'good' divorce."

How ironic that the human relationship that promises the greatest joy also holds the potential for the deepest hurt. Is there any relationship that offers more possibility or binds two people more deeply to one another than marriage? The dreams for life and hopes for the future integrate and mingle in those solemn pledges to love, honor, and cherish.

Yet, we know in our broken world the ideals of marriage are often unrealized. Visions are frequently compromised and goals are seldom achieved. In the midst of the failures is pain. "I lost part of myself," cried one young woman. "That was probably the hardest thing because I was so defined as a person in relationship with my husband that when I came out of the marriage I really did not know who I was. I needed people in my life to help me redefine who I was as a person. I couldn't seem to do it by myself."

"But people were not there for me," laments one father who was awarded custody of two little boys. "The insensitivity is enormous. Nobody would treat me this way if there had been a death in the family, but this is just what it is like, a death."

"People were not there for me, either," says a mother of four, divorced in 1969 after 16 years of marriage. "There's this feeling that divorced women are loose women. I probably believed this myself before my divorce. People think that you're free to live the swinging-single's life now that you're no longer married. For six years after the divorce, all I did was go to work, come home, take care of the kids, clean the house, go to bed, get up the next morning, and go to work again. I didn't go to one movie. I didn't go anywhere except to church."

Like so many others, these hurting people cry for help from others to understand them, to listen, to sense when they need to be alone in their own space and when they need someone to be there. I believe it is the believing community--God's people serving a God who brings resurrection out of crucifixion, life out of death, joy out of sorrow, redemption out of pain--who can scatter the seeds of hope so hurting men and women can stand tall and muster up courage to live, love, and risk again.

Opportunities for Ministry
Philip and Joan sit at their kitchen table, sipping coffee after breakfast. "I miss Tom," Phil confides. "Seems like I've lost my best friend. I think I'll call him today and arrange a time to play racquetball."

At five o'clock, instead of going home, Phil picks up Tom and his kids. Tom looks tired. His laugh lines look frozen and brittle. But the warmth of Phil's friendship melts Tom's frigid facade. After dropping the boys off for an evening at Phil's house, the two men begin their own evening of sharing--a racquetball contest, dinner, and finally playing a game with the children and Joan.

Over a quiet cup of coffee, Tom half whispers, half weeps: "At work, they think I'm amazing. 'Wife walks out, leaves you with two little boys, and you still go on with your work.' But they don't know what it's like after I put the kids to bed. On the good nights, I cry myself to sleep. Other nights I just sit on the edge of the bed thinking suicide. If it hadn't been for the boys, I might have done it. I'm so tired of trying. I don't think much about God because I feel God no longer wants anything to do with me."

Sue and Rob Wilson greet each of the high school students as they arrive for the Sunday morning brunch in the youth department. Their rapport with the teenagers is good, their banter playful and spontaneous. On this first Sunday of the summer, the group is beginning to plan its mid-summer camping trip. Just as breakfast begins, two new bodies quietly slip into line and find their way to a table.

"These must be the Boice kids," Sue thinks. "Their dad told me this will be their first summer with him since the divorce. They must feel anxious. They don't know even one person in this town."

Sue greets Martha and Ben Boice and introduces them to the teens sitting around the table. Sue knows from talking with their dad that Martha, soon to be a senior, is not at all happy about being so far from her swimming team friends. And her boyfriend is even farther away at college. Ben, a star soccer player for his sophomore team, left an unfinished season to spend the summer with his dad, in spite of his protest.

Later, over dinner, the Wilsons decide some aggressive action is the only solution. They make plans for a backyard barbecue for all the camping trip planning committee. Rob calls the Boices with an intriguing question for both: "We need some help with our camping trip and wonder if we can count on you."

As the casserole finishes baking for the church-night potluck, Joan sits at her desk studying her church school attendance record. Little Rudy Walker has not been in class for almost two months. She had expected some absence immediately after his parents' divorce, but the Walkers had been so active in church. Surely, she thought, Rudy should have returned to class by now. Even Joan's notes and calls to Rudy's mother had gotten no response. As she glances at her church school notes, she decides to take action.

At 6:00, instead of going to the church, Joan knocks at the Walkers' back door. She presents Peggy Walker with a casserole and salad, ready to serve. Peggy is exhausted and simply allows Joan to get things on the table for supper. Joan hovers over the children, asks about school and friends. With some quiet background music, the five of them share a meal. After supper, Peggy and Joan fold laundry and put three grieving children to bed.

Before she leaves, Joan has a chance to sit quietly with Peggy. Crying softly, Peg whispers, "I can't seem to do anything. I get up in the morning and can't even get myself dressed. I can't get organized. The house is a mess. The bills keep coming in. I never even balanced a checkbook before. The kids fuss and whine. And on Sundays, just the mention of church sends them into a tizzy. Maybe it's just too painful for all of us there, where we spent so much time together as a family before. I just can't go yet. Do you think God understands?"

Do any of these stories sound familiar? Can you recall similar situations in your own Christian community where family crises called for caring action? How did you deal with them? Congregations who want to minister to nontraditional families have a vast opportunity to do just that. The response to the variety of needs must be open and flexible, as well as knowledgeable.

1. Define terms. For example, what does "family" mean today? One woman who was divorced 25 years ago thinks of herself as "family." "I cook, do dishes and laundry, listen to my radio, and watch TV. I do all the things a family does, but I just happen to do them by myself." Some terms we use have a depth of meaning we no longer claim, while others no longer fit the traditional framework. A caring ministry requires knowing.
2. Prepare for ministry. Provide training for all who want to do effective ministry. Include classes for developing listening and communicating skills, clarifying the role of questions, differentiating between the myths and the realities of divorce as well as other crises, understanding the process of grief and loss.
3. Get information. Keep in touch with the church family. Write notes of care. Call to express interest and concern. Drop by with the offer of friendship and help. People may be so depressed they do not have the energy to ask for help. Or they may be too embarrassed to seek aid. Sometimes it is more important to take the church to the family than to get the family to the church.
4. Help families connect. When the structure of a family changes, its members may be too confused to know where or how to connect with the church. Single parents may be more comfortable in a group unrelated to age or marital status. Children who are living alternately with two parents may need help establishing and maintaining friendships.
5. Offer support groups. Sometimes the best way to survive is to be with others who are also struggling for survival. Provide or refer adults and/or children to well-supervised support groups and encourage participation.
6. Give new emphasis to nontraditional families. Make events like church night more inclusive by seeking leadership from children and grandparents. Invite single-parent families or older couples with their children gone to do the Advent readings or congregational prayers. Seek out those who represent healthy single-family life styles as a means of encouragement and nurturing for those who are struggling for a new identity.
7. Look at the needs of the community and the gifts of the church. In a world that offers little continuity or safety for children and parents, the church may be the only loving, redemptive force they encounter. If the church building is empty every day except Sunday, something is wrong. It is time to get out of the cloister and into the community.