The Hug I Almost Gave

There have been a few times in my life where I felt compelled to do something, but didn’t because it seemed either too uncomfortable or awkward. These were quick moments, too, where if I didn’t act immediately it would pass. Recently, I was sitting in a court room, and one of these moments occurred. I was there in support of another, and as the judge was working through different cases there came a case that was being finalized that day. It was a divorce. There was a male attorney, and the woman he was representing. If I remember correctly, I believe this was called a no-contest divorce. What this meant was that everything had been negotiated between the spouses, and all the paper work signed. All that remained was getting the judge to finalize it. The woman was all by herself. There was no family or friends in support, and her now ex-husband didn’t even show up.

I listened as she answered “yes” to all the questions from the attorney regarding their agreement, and then the judge declared their divorce official and it was over. At this moment, this flood of emotion came over me that I was not ready for that day. The woman turned around to leave the court room, and as she passed me on the back row I could see tears streaming from her eyes as she was trying to keep it together. I felt compelled to stand up and just give her a hug in support, but I missed the moment with excuses ranging from “is this proper court etiquette” to “she doesn’t know me and this might be uncomfortable for her.” I almost hugged her because of her own pain, but as I pondered the incident more, I almost hugged for my pain, too.

In December 2003, my parents divorce was finalized. I didn’t think much about the details of it then, but when I sat watching this woman stand by herself finalizing the divorce from her absent husband it hit me. When my parents divorce was finalized, it was also an uncontested divorce. My father did not show up to court, but my mom did. She, like this woman, was there by herself with her lawyer. No family or friends in support, and when the judge declared their divorce official she turned and walked out of the court room, too. Close to 30 years of marriage ended just like that, and as the grief came over her so did lots of shame. My father didn’t have to carry the shame of that moment, he chose to skip out and leave it all to her. When I saw this woman walking out with tears in her eyes and not making eye contact with anyone, I was immediately broken for my own mom. I wanted to hug her in that moment because I wanted her to know I saw her, but I also wanted to let my mom know I saw her, too. It felt so personal, and this woman was an older woman with long silver hair just like my mom. It made me wonder if my mom had anyone to hug her on that day. Did she cry alone that day? I know I was hundreds of miles away, as were my siblings, but that doesn’t excuse my lack of compassion.

As I felt personal grief over my mom and her experience, I also felt anger well up in me. First, I was angry at myself for not being more compassionate with my mom. I was angry for it taking this long to realize how painful and shaming divorce is, especially for a woman who showed up alone to finalize it. Second, I was (am) angry at my father for putting this on her to do alone. He essentially walked away from our family years before, and left the divorce stuff up to my mom. She had to file. She had to go to court. She had to endure the public shame, and he got papers. He got to go on living as he had been living. Finally, I was (am) angry at the church. Let me be clear when I say this, I am not angry at every single Christian. I am not angry and hate the church and done with her. I am not saying that the church never gets anything right. What I am saying is that I am angry with how the church in this country so often treats divorce and divorcees. Yes, there are divorces that stem from convenience and lack of effort, but that is not all divorces. My mom’s church to this day has done a terrible job caring well for her. She was straight told that other women in her Sunday School class sort of distanced themselves from her because she was a perceived threat to their husbands. When she told me that years ago, I was ready to go to war! The Lord has had and continues to work in me to not sin in my anger. But it’s not just that. They had a divorce care class, which was a good attempt. However, this class was insufficient. She needed the body of Christ to walk alongside her in all this. She didn’t need flippant responses about divorce and how God hates it and all that. To this day, she carries shame from her divorce and how our family has turned out. And the church, who holds the greatest news of all time, still has yet to bring her in, love on her, point her to Christ who bore all her grief and shame, and walk with her through this painful journey. She needed more than a class! She needed Jesus! She needed the church!

The rest of the day, I asked myself over and over, “Why didn’t I hug that woman?” I want to be blunt honest with you. I didn’t give her a hug because in the end my own reputation and image mattered more. She needed Jesus. She needed a hug. She needed to know that someone saw her, and would let her know it’s going to be OK. I’m a pastor for crying out loud! What an opportunity, and I missed it. And I am weeping as I write this. I wish I could get that back. I wish I could have been next to my mom in 2003, letting her know that it’s OK and Jesus is with you in this. That I’m with you in this! I feel like the priest and levite that chose to walk on the other side, rather than check on the man beaten, robbed, and left for dead (Luke 10:25-37). I’m angry at the church, because I see myself in the church. I am guilty of being the good “Christian”, while not being the good “Samaritan.” I am so weary of playing nice, clean, happy church, folks. People are messy. Life is hard. Shame is real. Abuse is real. God hates treacherous divorce, but not all divorce. He gave it as protection for the weak and vulnerable. For those suffering abuse, abandonment, neglect, and other severe treatments. The church in America has often gotten this one dead wrong, and it has been very costly. There is a divorce that God hates, and in a sense he hates it all, yes. He has desired from the beginning that a man and a woman be married for life, but he knows our sin and rebellion. He knows that people abuse and abandon and neglect and more, and he cares for the weak and the vulnerable. The church should be ready to support and stand up for those who are weak and vulnerable and suffering abuse and other harm. It may not always lead to divorce, but it should absolutely lead to care, provision, and protection for them. Classes don’t do that. They are great for education and coping, they are terrible at doing what the church is called to be and do.

I fear that my “almost hug” is far too representative of our church culture in America. We almost do the right thing, and perhaps comfort ourselves in the fact that we at least had the thought. I mean, it’s the thought that counts, right?! I’m sure the priest and levite prayed for the man beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. Maybe they even considered how they could help. Perhaps even how they could help and maintain their “purity” at the same time. Who knows, Jesus doesn’t tell us in the parable. What we do know, is that they passed by on the other side. But the unlikely Samaritan (which would have angered Jesus’ Jewish hearers since that Samaritan was the worst of the worst to them) saw the man in need, and moved toward him in that moment. He cleaned him. He dressed his wounds. He placed him on his donkey. He stayed with him at the Inn, and then paid to have the Inn keeper take care of him with extra money to do so. The parable of the Samaritan took a turn for me a few years back. I so often try to associate with either the priest, the levite, or the Samaritan. What I didn’t realize is that I am the man beaten and left for dead. I am the man in desperate need of a Savior. Jesus, like the Samaritan, saw me, moved toward me, gave of himself to cleanse me and heal me and restore me, and he did this by literally giving himself for me. By becoming the one who would be beaten and left for dead. So when we see those suffering from trauma, grief, shame, suffering, etc. we should see the familiar, and because we are in Christ we should be like him moving toward those folks in love. And even more so when they are our own Christian brothers and sisters.

I close with this, I wish I could get back those 30 seconds in that court room to stand up and offer that woman a hug. I can’t. But I can learn from it, and believe I am. I messaged my mom soon after. In tears, I wrote to her about my experience. I apologized for not being there for her. I acknowledged her pain and grief and shame in all of it. I acknowledged that she wasn’t in sin over her divorce, and I am fully convinced from God’s word that her divorce was justified. I acknowledged that the church has let her and many like her down. And in all this, I am more than ever committed to loving, serving, caring for, ministering to, protecting, advocating for, and pointing to Jesus all who are suffering, all who are weak, all who are vulnerable, all who are shamed publicly and privately, all who are abused, all who are lonely, and all who are left for dead. I cannot do this alone, but as a pastor, I am committed to leading our church toward this more and more. The gospel of Jesus Christ compels us to love, and we are done sitting on the sidelines. We are done with “almost hugs”. We are done passing by on the other side. We will move toward the mess. We will move toward the unknown. We will move toward what is ceremonially unclean. And we will do this with the power of the Holy Spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ, and for the glory of God the Father. Amen!

Bryan Padgett