34 
Unpopular Conviction

As Amanda turned, saddened by the incident with the old woman, and began making her way back to the chalet, Sister Anika came out of the bakery. She ran ahead to join her.

“Hello, Amanda,” said Anika. “I didn’t know you were in the village.”

“I was doing a couple of errands for Sister Hope and Sister Marjolaine.”

From her first day at the chalet, Amanda had been struck by Sister Anika’s beautiful features. Tall and slender, she carried herself with stateliness and poise, and seemed like a lady who belonged more in some king’s court rather than on a farm in the Swiss Alps. Her eyes, the most arresting part of her countenance, were large, blue, and always full of light, and were complemented by thick straight hair of a shade which might be called dark blond. Her pretty smile, never far from her lips, revealed perfect glistening teeth and was capable of melting the most severe grumpiness in an instant. One flash from eyes, lips, and teeth in concert together was to behold the sun suddenly exploding from behind a cloud.

“I just saw an old lady back there who spoke so rudely,” said Amanda. “Most of the villagers are very friendly. But she was downright crotchety.”

“There are many people living all around in the hills,” Anika said as they walked. “They are all so different. When I first came I didn’t think I would ever stop seeing new people. Though it was difficult to get to know them. The Swiss tend to keep to themselves. That old woman was probably Frau Grizzel. She is a very unhappy lady. She was unhappy long before you and I came here.”

“How long have you been here?” Amanda asked.

“Let me see . . . it would be eight years now.”

“Eight years—don’t you ever think about getting married and having a home of your own?”

“I was married for several years,” Anika replied.

Amanda’s reaction as she glanced to her side showed her surprise well enough. It also hit closer to home than she expected. She waited.

“After three years,” Anika went on, “I discovered that my husband was involved with another woman.”

A momentary gasp escaped Amanda’s lips. She had not expected it in the least.

“We had not known each other very well,” said Anika. “But I was in love, you see, and thought that was all that mattered before marriage. I was far too young at the time to marry at all.”

A look of pain passed over Amanda’s face. She began to stammer. “Oh, I’m sorry . . . what did you do?”

Anika paused thoughtfully. Something made her turn and look straight into Amanda’s eyes. Amanda turned her head quickly away. She almost felt as though Sister Anika must know about Ramsay, though that could hardly be.

“I was raised in a godly home,” Anika said after a few moments. “I never dreamed anything like that would happen to me. I cried and cried. I thought my life was at an end. My husband and I separated for a time. I could not be with him after learning what I had. I felt so betrayed.”

“And . . . then what did you do?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I thought of running away, just disappearing. I felt so humiliated. I talked to many people, my parents and minister. After several weeks had passed, my father and the minister went to my husband and confronted him with what they had learned. They urged him to repent and break off his relationship with the other woman and rededicate himself both to me and to the Lord. I was prepared to take him back. But he was angry toward them and said dreadful things. So upon their counsel, after searching the Scriptures myself, I divorced him.”

Amanda gasped again, and her expression registered surprise. “When was that?” she asked.

“Twelve years ago.”

“And you never remarried?”

“I never considered it.”

“Why?” asked Amanda.

“Because in God’s sight, Hörst was still my husband.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you said you divorced him.”

“What he did could never change the fact that in God’s eyes we were married . . . I believe married for life.”

“But you divorced him.”

“Yes, because he had committed adultery. But that sin of his could not justify my taking a new husband.”

“But he wasn’t your husband any longer.”

“Actually, I believe he still was, and still is my husband to this day—in the sight of God. A divorced husband, it may be, but still my husband.”

“But . . . but that’s so . . . it seems contradictory. You are divorced, but you still consider him your husband?”

“To most people what I have said would seem only so much nonsense. But I believe that in the economy of heaven, only death ends marriage. Divorce doesn’t end a marriage but is only a means God devised for separating a husband and wife who, for various reasons, can no longer live as a husband and wife are meant to live. It separates them but does not end their marriage. At least that is how I see it.”

“I have never heard such a thing.”

“That is why I say we are separated,” Sister Anika continued, “—divorced. But in the economy of heaven I believe I still have a husband. Therefore, I am not free to remarry.” After a painful yet beautiful smile, she added, “And the experience has helped draw me into a much closer relationship with the Lord.”

“I have never heard anything like that before,” repeated Amanda.

“I was always taught that divorce is something the Bible allows under certain very specific circumstances, but not remarriage. In my case, I was scripturally advised to divorce. But I did not feel I could remarry. And this is how the minister of our parish counseled me when I was considering the divorce. He said, ‘Be very, very prayerful, Anika. If you divorce, you will not be scripturally free to remarry . . . ever.’ Our curate, however, disagreed. After that, I searched the Scriptures on my own. I took many long walks along the dikes near Amsterdam pondering what I was to do.”

“What did you find?”

“That I agreed with the minister. I found that marriage was for life, even though divorce sometimes severed that marriage in the world’s eyes. I could not escape Paul’s words to the Romans which say that a woman who marries another man while her first husband is still alive is an adulteress. I could simply find nothing in the Bible about remarrying without twisting the words. I came to realize that I was accountable. I married my husband. I made lifelong vows. The divorce did not break them, it only suspended them. But I remained accountable for not seeing the defects of character which eventually revealed themselves. I believe I have to take permanent responsibility for the failure of the marriage too, because I married him. Sister Agatha disagrees with me. She believes that because my husband was not a churchman, and because he committed adultery that I am free to remarry. But I cannot take her counsel above what I think the Bible teaches.”

“But . . . did you never wish to be married again?” asked Amanda.

“Of course,” Anika replied. “There are many times I am lonely, even now. And I would so liked to have had children. But I would never think of disobeying the Scriptures merely to satisfy my own loneliness. Obedience is far more important than that. As I said, I am accountable too. If occasional loneliness is the price I must pay for my mistake, then that is something I am willing to endure.”

“Your mistake . . . ? You did nothing wrong.”

“I mean my marrying a man who was not going to be faithful to me.”

“You could not have foreseen that.”

“Perhaps not. Yet perhaps I should have tried to know him better beforehand. People don’t change as much as one might think. There are always signposts of character indicating what is likely to come in the future. But most people have not made it a practice to look for them, or, seeing them, do not pay sufficient attention to them.”

Again, the words bit a little too deep for comfort, and Amanda did not reply.

“Maybe if I had been mature enough to pay closer attention,” Anika continued, “I might have seen Hörst’s streak of selfishness and pride which revealed itself when my father and our minister tried to speak to him. I might also have seen that his roving eye indicated danger to a future wife. I was young and careless, Amanda. I married carelessly. I am accountable for that.”

“But it seems all those are hard things to say. Is God really like that? Does he want you to be lonely?”

“No, of course not. God did not put me in the position I am in. I did it myself. I cannot run away from my own contribution to the failure of the marriage, if only in that I should never have married Hörst in the first place. The Lord helped me come to my decision and I am content, though occasionally lonely. I am content because I feel it is the right thing for me to do. I feel no shame in being divorced. I know it was not my doing. But I would feel shame in remarrying. Divorce is not wrong in itself. Remarriage when a spouse yet lives is, in my opinion, wrong.”

“It still seems hard.”

“It is only hard because people do not like the idea of taking account for their own failed marriages. They always want to blame the other for the failure, and then interpret the Scriptures in such a way as to justify their remarrying. But in my opinion this is only so much excuse making.”

“You are really hard on those who don’t see it as you do.”

“So some of the other sisters tell me,” Anika laughed.

“Like Sister Agatha?”

“Especially Sister Agatha! She and I have discussed this matter for hours and hours on end. She happens to be the daughter of a very happy second marriage, whose mother and father have been married forty-five years. Sister Agatha vehemently disagrees with everything I have just said. And for good reason. She points to her own parents’ very happy years together as evidence of the validity of remarriage.”

“What do you say to her?”

“Nothing. We disagree but love one another dearly. These things I have told you simply represent my own convictions. I do not insist that everyone agree with me. It is a good thing, too, because most do not!” she added, laughing. “And I may be wrong, you know,” she added with another smile. “Or it may be a conviction the Lord wants me to follow, and to help me do so he has given me strong views on it, yet it may not be an absolute truth that applies to everyone. I don’t know. This is how I see the matter. But others disagree, and I have no problem with that.”

“If most people disagree with you,” said Amanda, “how do they respond when you tell them all this?”

“I don’t tell it to many, because people tend to become angry.”

“Angry, at whom . . . not angry at you?”

“Sometimes. There are those who become angry whenever any view is expressed that is contrary to their own. They say I am wrong to have such a conviction, that I am judging everyone who doesn’t agree with me, that I am living under the Law. They say all sorts of things. Why is it, do you suppose, that people so dislike when someone tries to obey a conviction of their heart? It puzzles me. Honestly I do not think I judge others. I love Sister Agatha’s dear mother. But mostly people I tell get angry toward the minister to put that kind of burden on a poor young brokenhearted girl.”

“What does Sister Hope think?” asked Amanda.

Anika smiled. “You should ask her,” she answered. “My plight has caused her to think and pray about it more seriously than she ever did before. And she has not been able to help being drawn into some of the heated discussions that have arisen between Sister Agatha and me. I think Sister Hope sees both sides. To tell you the truth, I do not think she has fully made up her mind on the issue. Obviously, she could remarry if the opportunity ever arose because her husband is dead—although, like me, she does not feel that is what the Lord wants for her. But the whole matter of remarriage is a very complicated question. Sister Hope is so aware of God’s grace at work that I think she tends to believe that God can work in the midst of second, and even third marriages at times, just as much as he can in one-man, one-woman lifetime marriages. She is a realist, and I think would say that God is a realist too. He knows that in a fallen world, there will be failed marriages and that we must not condemn those involved in them. I hope I am not condemning. I desire to live in God’s grace too, and I try to extend that grace to others. Yet I cannot escape my conviction. In any event, I think Sister Hope tends to disagree with my view of remarriage, though I have never heard her say so specifically.”

Amanda was quiet for the remainder of the walk back to the chalet.

Sister Anika was used to such a response to her story. It always made people think, whether they agreed or disagreed with her.