Facing the Truth Facing the Truth
By Sheila Hood
Homosexuality. A.I.D.S. These words meant little to me until Imarried Bill. Then I began to sense a hidden problem in our marriagethat puzzled and frightened me.
I had seen symptoms of a deep conflict in my husband’s life sincethe beginning of our marriage. In public, Bill was usually calm andgentle. In the privacy of our home, he was often moody, withdrawn andviolently angry.
There were other signs of a hidden problem: the times he would tryto slip his wedding ring back on unnoticed after returning from anespecially late night in the city…the way his eyes met with thoseof total strangers…the preoccupation he had with his outwardappearance that had nothing to do with pleasing me.
I sensed a growing distance between us. Finally, after two yearsof marriage, I had to know the truth.
“Bill, there’s something I must ask you.” My heart was pounding asI paused to take a deep breath. “What keeps you at a distance from meday after day and night after night? Is there something deeplywrong?”
At first Bill said nothing-he just stared, without expression.Finally, he broke the incredible silence.
“There’s something I haven’t told you. I have this terrible battleraging inside of me all the time. It’s not against you. It’s justthat I, well, it’s just that I prefer to be with men.”
“Do you mean intimately, sexually?” I asked, feeling my heartcrushing inside me.
“Yes.” He lowered his gaze toward the floor. “But recently, it’sjust been the thoughts.”
The implication of his words sank in slowly. “You mean you’ve beeninvolved sexually with men since we were married?” The tears were hoton my face.
In the days to come, I decided to stand by Bill, believing Godcould heal anything. Right or wrong, I trusted that fervent prayerwould put this problem behind us.
A year later, we moved to Mesquite, Texas, where Bill and Ienrolled in classes at Dallas Bible College. We found a new apartmentnear campus. I began my new job at the Central American Mission.Evenings were spent typing assignments and trying to keep the housein order. Our daughter, Debi, invited Jesus into her tender,three-year-old heart. Everything seemed finally to be falling intoplace.
But, by the second year, Bill’s grades declined. He lost interestin his studies and any form of Christian service. Old patterns ofanger and withdrawal resurfaced.
Late one afternoon, as I helped Debi in the door with her bag oftoys, my eyes were drawn to a note propped on the kitchen table. “Didnot go to work today. Am not going back to school. Bill.” My heartsank.
For three days and nights I waited for some word from Bill.Finally he called me from the airport, back from a quick trip to SanFrancisco. My feelings were a mixture of relief and hurt.
As I groped my way through the unfamiliar, pitch-black streets tothe airport, I had to wonder what hold Bill had on me. He had treatedme so badly, yet I still felt compelled to come and get him. Maybe Ifelt sorry for him, or maybe I was afraid of him, or afraid of beingleft alone.
Bill’s profuse apologies remedied the situation temporarily. Butmy dreams were being shattered. Soon we had moved back to California,where we settled in the San Diego area.
My relationship with God was crumbling. I didn’t bother to lookfor a church. My Bible lay unopened in a box somewhere. I no longerwanted to talk to God.
Some radical changes began to take place in Bill. His taste inmusic switched from opera to acid rock. His ungodly attitudes andlanguage pierced my heart. And he resumed drinking, which hadactually begun long before I knew him. After that, he often came homeat two or three in the morning, violent and drunk. I knew he wasbeing sexually unfaithful to me.
September 1, 1976, marked a new beginning. We moved into a lovelyhome in Castro Valley, in the San Francisco Bay Area. I resumedregular church attendance with Debi, who was now seven years old.
Bill vacillated back and forth on a pendulum of good and evil. Hegot a job, then used his paycheck to nurture his illicit sexualdesires. He spent the evening reading the Bible, then put it aside toponder his own lustful thoughts. He consented to meet regularly withone of the pastors, but disregarded his advice.
After ten years of keeping secrets, I prayed fervently that Godwould send me a Christian friend to stand by me and uphold me inprayer. Soon my pastor’s wife and I were praying regularly together,and I realized she was God’s answer to my prayers. What an angel ofmercy she turned out to be!
Over the next three years, the frequency with which Bill pursuedhis secret endeavors increased radically. Once a month became once aweek, then two and three times a week he’d be gone. Eventually apattern began when he would leave for days, weeks, or even months,then return with his story of repentance. I always accepted him back,and he would do well for awhile. Then the pattern would start allover again. This marriage is a joke, I thought one day. God must havesomething to say in the Bible about marriages that are a mockery.
I began an extensive study in God’s Word on every passage I couldfind addressing the conditions of our marriage-perpetual adultery;homosexual behavior; and physical, emotional, spiritual, andfinancial abandonment. I also studied the nature of forgiveness,reconciliation, and legal responsibility as a believer.
Night after night I took my Bible and reference books and studiedalone. When I reached a point of conclusion, I made an appointmentwith my pastor to clarify with him what I understood the Bible tosay.
I told him I was intending to divorce Bill, then I asked him toconfirm or reject my findings. I would abide by his counsel. Mypastor heard me through, then confirmed my right under God to divorceand remarry. I confronted Bill privately, as directed in Matthew 18,then took my pastor and his wife as witnesses. Bill acknowledged hisguilt and asked our forgiveness, promising to stop going to bars anddoing homosexual deeds. But soon he was driving off into the nightagain.
“Bill,” I finally asked him, “if you had to make a choice betweenGod’s ordained plan for marriage or the homosexual lifestyle, whichwould you choose?”
“Given the choice,” he responded, “I would choose the homosexuallifestyle.” My heart wrenched as I told him of my intent to divorcehim because of his perpetual sexual sin and his subsequent rejectionof Debi and me.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why you didn’t dothis years ago.” On August 25, 1980, he loaded our station wagon withall the things important to him and slowly drove away.
Months later, our divorce became final. I felt a part of me wasactually severed, like an arm torn from its socket. With a signatureand a flimsy two-dollar receipt, thirteen-and-a-half years ofmarriage were over. The truth broke my heart, and my tears flowed forhours.
Four years passed. Periodically Bill would telephone me; once heeven came to visit briefly. Then came an unexpected phone call oneMonday at work. It was Bill, announcing he had admitted himself intoa detoxification program. He went on to explain how, after a routinephysical, the doctors had taken extensive tests.
“Sheila, I went back to the doctor this morning. He had all thetest results. I have full-blown AIDS. I’m going to die!” I searchedfor meaningful words of comfort, then put down the receiver and satin a daze. In the following months, I attended seminars to becomeacquainted with this disease. Bill and I talked semi-regularly on thetelephone. And I, too, was tested for the presence of the AIDS virus.Thankfully, the results were negative.
Each time Bill called, I would wonder how much more time he had tolive. Debi and I did our best to adjust to the emotional ups anddowns related to his illness. Then the phone rang at home oneSaturday morning.
“Hello Sheila. This is Bill.” His voice was gentle. “I was feelingkind of bad, and just wanted to talk to a friend.” “I’m glad youcalled,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help lighten theload?”
“No, not really,” he responded. “It just helps to have someone Ican call. There’s a new lesion coming up on my leg and another one onmy hand. I’m so scared. I’d rather die that have these ugly thingsall over me.”
“We meet for staff prayer on Tuesday morning, so we’ll be sure topray for you then, Bill. And, of course, Debi and I pray for you allthe time.”
“Thank you for caring after all the times I hurt you and Debi.God’s love astounds me.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to meet Him when the time comes?” Iasked gently. Bill had called out to God on many occasions, but forreasons I could not understand, he never had felt the assurance ofGod’s forgiveness and salvation.
“I believe God can forgive me, but I don’t think I can forgivemyself,” he said. We talked a little longer, and I did what I couldto direct his thinking toward God.
In the following months, Bill survived two threats to his life: about with pneumocystic pneumonia, a common illness in AIDS patients;and a life-threatening swelling between his skull and brain whichrequired surgery.
Then, while I was on vacation, came the phone call I knew wouldeventually occur. “Hello, Sheila. This is your neighbor, Taso. I havesome bad news.”
“Has Bill died?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Yes. I’msorry. He died this evening.” Walking away from the phone, I felt adeep sense of loss.
After Bill’s death in June of 1989, hurtful memories of pastdisappointments began fading. Since then, God has continued torestore my life, one day at a time.
I have come through the deep waters of a marriage where everydream was dashed by an abusive mate. Even then, I discovered thecontinual care of a loving God. And now I am regaining peace of mindand self-esteem; the cutting knife-edge of pain has finally subsided.
Through God’s truth, His Word, I have found comfort and strength.Shortly after Bill left me years ago, God encouraged me throughJeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you…plans toprosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and afuture.”
Knowing God has a plan inspires me to look always in Hisdirection, desiring only His purposes. I can face the future withconfidence, because my life is built on the sure foundation of Hislove and truth.
Adapted from the book Double Life. Copyright 1991 by SheilaHood. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rightsreserved. Distributed by Love in Action, P.O. Box 753307, Memphis, TN38175-3307 901 542-0250.