I had to learn to fight the fear of losing my marriage with a greater fear of God. It might sound strange, to fight fear with fear, but the more I looked to God as my mighty Sovereign, the less I worried about future outcomes. To be sure, there were many days of shaky trust, failure to love, and tormenting anxiety. But God strengthened me, and in obeying him there was overwhelming peace.

Two years ago, Rachel Joy Welcher wrote “When the Unbeliever Departs,” an article that tells of her experience with a husband who loses his faith and walks out on the marriage. Today, we’re publishing her follow-up in which she shares the lessons she learned through this difficult season of life.

I read my Bible on our rust-colored, thrift-store recliner every day that year; a rare season of consistency for me. God must have known I’d need it. I remember underlining a verse and starting to call out to my husband who was in the other room. But I stopped myself. This reaction, like muscle-memory, had to be retrained. I had to remind myself: he doesn’t want to hear the verse you just read. He won’t be excited that you got to share the gospel with a student during your lunch break today. I set down my pen and continued to read quietly.

My husband lost his faith over the course of that year. It was like watching my best friend starve. He stopped going to church. He wanted new friends, more privacy, and proof to replace faith. He wanted answers I could not give and the freedom to reconsider his commitment to stay married. The devotion to Christ that had united us began separating us.

I ran out of excuses for why I came to church Bible study alone. “He’s studying.” “He’s feeling tired.” At some point, I just stopped answering and shrugged. When you are married, people wonder about your other half. Mine was no longer interested in being around Christians. Our marriage changed. As he distanced himself from the church and the gospel, I entered a season of emotional and spiritual isolation. I couldn’t tell people what was going on, and every attempt I made to draw my husband back to Jesus failed.

My time married to an unbeliever was short. What ended this season was not the joy of the prodigal son returning home but the numb surrender of signing divorce papers. Some of you have been plunged into this hell. Divorce leaves half your body on the other side of a closed door. Others of you are experiencing the agony of watching the person you love slip farther and farther away from the truth. Maybe you sit in silent disbelief. Maybe you have joined them in their doubts. Maybe you are anxious to fix their faith or are trying your best to adjust to a new normal.

Danger of Isolation

I remember the first time I went to church alone. I sat in the back. The lights had been dimmed for worship, and it afforded me the privacy to weep. Although I was attending a new church where no one knew my story, I still feared that everyone must be wondering: Where is her husband? I twisted my wedding ring around and around nervously throughout the sermon and left during the closing song.

Divorce leaves half your body on the other side of a closed door. . . . I was living out the most precious parts of myself without my partner. Everything felt sad, divided, and wobbly.

When my husband started questioning his faith, it changed my relationship with the church. I tried my best to keep things surface-level with other believers because I didn’t how to answer their questions, and I didn’t want to break down crying. My husband wasn’t ready to share what he was going through, so I didn’t feel free to share my story either. Even though I continued the spiritual disciplines of reading the Word, attending church, and serving others, I was living out the most precious parts of myself without my partner. Everything felt sad, divided, and wobbly.

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