The Backslider

This man was a backslider.  I had been told about him, and the church leaders visited with him a couple of times during our series of meetings in his village.  (This was the same village where Marta and the old man with the Bible were, which I have written about before.)  He had left his wife and married another woman, and the whole town was talking about it.  The church was carrying a load of shame on his behalf, because he had been one of the leaders of the church, and the other members were now being mocked because of what he had done.

One day Mzee Sanga, the patriarch of Kibidula, asked me if I would visit the backslider together with him.  I wondered what good I could do, but I agreed to go.  We came to his new house, which he had built for his new wife, and found him home.  He reluctantly invited us in, and we began to talk.  It was easy to see that he had begun to grow tired of these meetings with the church leaders, who were apparently spending more time talking than listening. 

I was praying silently, wondering what in the world I could share or say, and it seemed like the best thing to do would be to just ask him to tell us why he had chosen to leave his wife.  As he started sharing, my heart began aching for him.  He shared about the verbal abuse he had been receiving from his wife for years.  Mzee Sanga confirmed that his wife had a bad habit of gossiping about him.  The man shared how she made him into the laughing-stock of the village.  Wherever he would go, he would hear women laughing about him and telling each other what his wife had said about him, private secrets that nobody should have known.  He had finally had enough, and had chosen to leave her and find another woman. 

What could I say?  I knew all too well the pain of a broken home and the damage that can be done when husband and wife begin to fight, but how could I help this man?  It was time for more prayer. 

After the brother had shared his frustrations and pain, the room was filled with silence for a time.  Then, with a gentleness that can only have come from a source greater than my own heart, I began to speak.

“I understand your pain.  I hurt just hearing what you are saying.  What your wife has done is wrong, and I do not want to try and cover that up.  She has hurt you and humiliated you, and I can understand why you have done what you have done.”

Who was I to be sharing marriage counsel, unmarried as I was?  But I continued.  With tears in my eyes.

“Your wife has hurt you and slandered you around this whole village.  I cannot tell you what to do, or force you to get back together with her.  Nobody can do that.  You are free, and you have the freedom to choose what you are going to do.  I would just like to tell you something. 

"In the same way that your wife has destroyed your reputation in this village, you have destroyed the reputation of the Lord.  The village talks about you and laughs at you, but now the village is also laughing about the church and the Lord of the church.  You have been hurt, but now you are hurting others by what you have done.  Please consider this, and pray about what you must do.  The Lord is merciful.  He will forgive you.  He can heal your pain and restore your reputation to you.  He could even restore your marriage, and make it better than it has ever been.  Please hear me, and know that I am saying this for your best.”

As I spoke, I was amazed to feel the tears in my own eyes.  I hurt for that man, and I hurt for what he was doing to himself and others.  I loved him, and wanted him to find healing. I thought I saw a change come into his face as I talked, but I could not be sure.

We left his house, with little hope that the situation would get better, but for once in my life, I left a serious conversation with no regrets that I should have said something differently.  I felt sure that the Holy Spirit had guided my words, because I had never said those things before, nor felt such tenderness towards another person.

Looking back on my three years in Tanzania, there are many high points, when it seemed like God was working through me and touching others.  There were plenty of times when it seemed like the enemy was the one working through me, too, of course, when I lost my temper and lashed out at those who were around me, but I won’t dwell on those too much.    My meeting with the backslider turned out to be one of the high points.

When the meetings were finished and the baptism was held, this man was re-baptized.  He had returned to his wife, and had emptied his savings to make sure that his second wife would be well cared for back with her parents.  Amazingly, his wife was also re-baptized.  She had seen the evil in what she had done, and had repented of the way she had treated her husband.

A few weeks later, I met the man again.  I had a book that I wanted to give to him.  Mlima wa Baraka was the name of that book.  It is a book about the Sermon on the Mount of Blessing.  He read it with his wife, and he later told me that it had transformed their marriage.  Apparently the Spirit that had worked in me that day in his house was still working there!