God Restored My Marriage God Restored My Marriage

By Beth Babb

“Beth,” my friend confided, “when I pray about your husband, twowords keep getting impressed on my heart. One is suicide, and theother is homosexuality.”

It was on a Rhode Island beach in June of 1985 that I finallyadmitted to myself that my husband, Mike, and I had a seriousproblem. My feelings were in turmoil as I wandered alone down thesand looking for sea shells.

I watched the silvery waves wash starfish onto the beach, as thespiny creatures were ripped from their rocky perches. Like thosestarfish, my world had been solid and secure, but now I was beingpulled by forces beyond my control. My life was out of control in away I didn’t understand. I felt vulnerable and scared.

God, I know my marriage is in trouble, I thought. I can’t ignoreit any longer but what should I do?

Occasionally, I looked back at Mike, sitting in a chair on thebeach, staring sullenly at the waves. What is wrong with him, anyway?I sighed, thinking of my numerous half-hearted attempts to discoverthe reason behind my husband’s drastic change in behavior.

Mike had been generous, fun-loving, always making jokes. Now hewas a brooding, unpredictable stranger. The changes frightened andthreatened me. Later, I stood near Mike’s chair with our friends,Julie and Jack, who had invited our family to visit them and take aspecial trip to the beach. I noticed Julie looking at Mike in aquestioning way, but we all tried to carry on as normal.

Then, all too soon, the day ended and we made preparations todrive back to our friends’ home in nearby Massachusetts. The men andboys travelled in one car; I went in another car with Julie and herdaughter.

On the drive home, Julie probed my fearful heart. My emotions cametumbling out in a crazy fashion I was so confused by this strangedirection my life was taking. Julie listened for a long time, thenfinally spoke. “I think I know what is wrong with Mike.”

“Don’t tell me,” I wanted to scream, “I don’t want to know!” Butanother part of me wanted to identify the problem, whatever it was.

Julie spoke with difficulty. “When I pray about Mike, two wordskeep getting impressed on my heart.” She glanced over at me. “One issuicide, and the other is homosexuality.”

I knew she was right, and suddenly I wanted to run away from her,from Mike, from everything. How I longed to escape from the searingpain that tore through my heart!

I was in tears as we talked the remainder of the trip back toJulie’s home. I knew that, as Mike’s wife, I was too emotionallywounded to confront him. Finally, Julie agreed to speak with Mike.

But during the remaining days of our visit, no opportunitypresented itself for Julie and Mike to talk alone. At the airport,she hugged me and whispered that she would be praying for us. With aheavy, bewildered heart, I flew back to Kansas beside a man I nolonger understood.

Mike and I had first met at a small Bible school in Kansas. At thetime, I’d just left another unpleasant relationship, and wasn’tinterested in any man. But when Mike asked me for dinner, for somereason I said yes. He was very kind and I liked him. Three-and-a-halfmonths later, we were engaged. We married on June 12, 1975.

How have things changed so much since then? I wondered. Back homein Kansas, life went on. Depression, sadness and fear were myconstant companions. Then the spiritual warfare grew even moreintense.

In the kitchen one evening, I felt something like a black cloudsuddenly descend over my head. Tears sprang to my eyes as a heavypresence seemed to settle on my back. Not wanting the children to seeme, I groped my way to the bathroom, fell to the floor, and beganweeping.

“Oh God, oh God!” I moaned repeatedly. The black presence was sostrong that I wondered if I would ever get up again I thought I mightdie.

Finally, I lay down upon the floor, totally exhausted. The darkpresence lifted and then was gone. Although I feared its return, theblackness never did come back.

I don’t completely understand what happened on that bathroomfloor. But I know that spiritual warfare was fought and greatspiritual strides were taken toward freeing both Mike and myself fromthe enemy’s grip.

A few days later, Julie called on a Sunday morning. “Beth, theHoly Spirit won’t leave me alone. I have to confront Mike. Are youready?”

“Yes,” I replied, “it couldn’t be any worse.” We agreed to praythe rest of the day and then Julie would call back.

That evening, she spoke to Mike on the phone. “I think I know whatis troubling you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Julie reminded Mike of her love, then said the two wordswhich were by this time imbedded in my heart like poisoned arrows.”You are struggling with homosexuality…and suicide.”

Mike began crying.

After their conversation, I entered the room and looked at Mike.”Don’t you think it’s time you told me?” Those were difficult words.Part of me still wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Mike looked up from our bed. “I’m gay,” he said calmly. Those twowords ripped through me like bullets.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Two women one of them anold friend needed a place to spend the night. I quickly “put on myhappy face,” acting as if nothing was wrong as we prepared a room forthem. Somehow, through a blur of frozen emotions, we made it throughthe night.

The next morning after Mike left for work, I suddenly realizedthat I was scheduled to speak at a meeting several hours away. I feltlike an open wound, but resolved to carry through on my commitment.

I don’t remember much of the trip. I cried as I drove, wonderingwhat I could possibly say to a room full of women. Maybe, I thought,the emotional agony will overpower me and I’ll just die.

I wondered whether Mike would still be there when I returned home.I grieved over my children as I pondered what all of this would do tothem. And then, somehow, I was standing before the group, silentlypleading with God to send the Holy Spirit to take over completely.

My notes were a blur as I opened my mouth. “God is faithful,reliable, trustworthy, ever true to His promises. We can depend onHim.” As I spoke, a powerful anointing fell upon me. My deep paintemporarily vanished as the Holy Spirit pled with people to becleansed.

“My people shall not be ashamed,” God said to us all through mylips. “Give up your secret sins. I love you.” His message was ahealing balm.

I knew that God was calling me to extend His love to Mike. “Don’tdesert him,” the Lord whispered in my heart. “My grace is sufficientfor you.”

The trip back home to Wichita was both wonderful and awful. It waswonderful because Jesus was my close companion, assuring me that Hewould take care of Mike. But it was awful because I knew there was along, hard struggle ahead of us. I wondered how I would survive.

Back in Wichita, I immediately phoned Mike at work and asked himto go out to dinner. That evening at our favorite restaurant, I askedhim the question that had been on my mind all day: “Mike, whatdirection do you want to go?”

His deep brown eyes were sad. “I want my marriage, my family. Idon’t want homosexuality, but I can’t make it on my own. I need amiracle from God.”

I remembered what the Lord had shown me earlier in the day, andtold Mike that I would never reject him. “I’m ready to stand withyou. I’ll support you in every way possible.”

We were like children groping in the dark. We had no earthlyresources; we only knew to hang on to Jesus. I had never heard ofanyone being delivered from homosexuality. It seemed a forbiddentopic in our Christian circles.

A few weeks later, Mike resigned at work and took a different job150 miles away in Oklahoma City. He had been deeply attracted toanother man at work, and was eager to move away from Wichita. We putour house up for sale, and I expected to join him as soon aspossible.

Little did we know the plans God had for us. Mike lived inOklahoma City for the next one-and-a-half years, while the childrenand I lived in Wichita. We saw each other only on weekends.

In Oklahoma City, Mike found The First Stone, a Christian ministrydedicated to helping homosexuals find freedom. He attended regularlyand earnestly began seeking God’s healing. In the coming months, hisgrowth was phenomenal. He had been depressed and hopeless, but becamehappy and full of hope. He regained a genuine desire to read hisBible and attend church, rather that simply “going through themotions” of being a Christian.

When Mike eventually returned to Wichita, God sent him back achanged man, with a dream in his heart to establish a similarministry to help others. But there was a problem.. Unfortunately,Mike returned to a weary, resentful wife. The enemy had been hackingaway at me, and I was too emotionally exhausted to support Mike’s newministry. Rather than celebrating his return, I felt angry andrepulsed by his vision to help other homosexuals.

Desperately I turned to Jesus, my faithful friend, for cleansing,for strength, for a desire to understand and love Mike. The FaithfulOne proved Himself steadfast once again as He began healing my heart.

It was difficult to face the truth: I was not the loving wife Ishould be. And I had no love or tolerance for needy homosexuals.Daily, I persevered in turning to Jesus for healing and restoration.

That was over four years ago and the healing process continues inmy life. God has brought me further that I ever believed possible.Recently I spoke to Mike’s ministry group. As I looked at the facesof those precious men, I saw friends whom I now dearly love. Yes, Godis doing a miracle in my wounded heart a heart full of stony placesthat had no room for hurting homosexuals.

Respect for my husband has returned. God had also given me awillingness to help Mike in his ministry, as well as the desire tosee my life continually healed and changed.

I know with complete confidence that my Heavenly Father willfinish the work that he has begun in me. I’ve seen him restore myhusband and my marriage. There is nothing too hard for Him.

Beth Babb lives with her family in Wichita, Kansas. Herhusband, Mike, directs Freedom At Last, a ministry to men and womenseeking freedom from homosexuality. The Babbs have three children andattend Faith Community Church in Wichita.

Distributed by Love in Action, P.O. Box 753307, Memphis, TN38175-3307; 901/542-0250