Divorced Christian Man
Disclaimer:
Let me begin with this: I am not here to blame any of my former wives or girlfriends. If anyone reads this and tries to weaponize my words against them, you’ve missed the heart of the message. This isn’t a book about blame—it’s about the intersection of divorce, manhood, faith, and the church. The women I’ve been with are a part of my story, but they are not the enemy. My hope for each of them is peace, forgiveness, and that one day, in heaven, every wound will be healed and every wrong forgiven.
My Story Begins
Three times in my life, I’ve stood in a courtroom opposite a woman I once vowed to love forever. Each time brought a deep sense of hopelessness, sorrow, anxiety, and the crushing weight of shame. As a Christian, divorce carries a unique sting—it’s not just a legal separation, it’s a spiritual scarlet letter. And no matter how much grace I was told God had for me, the church rarely showed it.
The questions always come: “Did she cheat? Were you abusive? Was she?” People want to know who’s to blame—who’s the sinner, who’s the saint. But honestly, that’s not what matters. Divorce isn’t always about a villain and a victim. It’s more like a multi-car crash—messy, chaotic, and full of pain. When the wounded arrive in the ER, no one asks who caused the accident—they just treat the trauma. That’s what the church so often misses. Instead of healing wounds, they analyze sins.
Pastors and church leaders seem to focus solely on the “one biblical out” for divorce, ignoring the complexities of real life. And more often than not, they take the woman’s side. I’ll never forget a deacon once scoffing at me: “And you believed her?” after I shared that my wife told me she never loved me. Or the Sunday school teacher who told the whole class that any remarriage is adultery. I felt condemned, unloved, and lost in the very place where I was supposed to find grace.
If I could say anything to Christian men navigating divorce: Don’t walk away from Jesus. He’s the only one who truly loves you without condition. The church might not understand your pain, but Jesus carried it all—to the cross.
Early Wounds, Lifelong Struggles
My story of brokenness started long before any divorce. I was eleven when my alcoholic mother left my father. That moment changed everything. I didn’t grow up with an emotionally available mother, and that neglect shaped two destructive patterns in my life: morbid obesity and an overwhelming need to please others. Both of these traits have cost me deeply. I stayed in relationships I should’ve never entered, simply because I wanted to be liked. And my appearance—made worse by uncorrected buck teeth and the weight I carried—meant few women ever saw me as attractive. The ones who did looked beyond the surface.
Salvation, Rejection, and the Search for Belonging
I came to faith in September 1994—just one week after separating from my first wife. I was saved in a Southern Baptist church, and while I’m grateful for the teaching I received, I always felt like an outsider. Now I understand why: divorced men don’t really have a place there.
Southern Baptist doctrine teaches grace—that salvation is by faith alone, not by our works. But their practice often tells a different story. The message from the pulpit says Jesus forgives all sin, past, present, and future. Yet in real life, they treat divorced men as permanently disqualified.
Eventually, I left that church and found a new spiritual home at Living Word of New Port Richey. Pastor Tim welcomed me. He knew my story—he didn’t excuse my past, but he never let judgment override grace. He lived it. I met him through the Moody Bible Institute extension program. I was on fire for God in those days. I started an impromptu Bible study at a local Books-A-Million that ran every Wednesday night for four years. People came to Christ. Some became missionaries. A dozen gave their lives to Jesus at a Billy Graham Crusade. It was an incredible time—and that’s also when I met my second wife.
The Church That Hurt Me Most
Pastor Tim was later forced to retire, and his replacement saw remarriage as ongoing adultery. During one of the hardest seasons of my life, while my third marriage was falling apart, the church board didn’t offer counseling or support—only condemnation. I’ll never forget sitting in that meeting where, when asked my intentions, I angrily used my knowledge of their teaching on remarriage against them, I sarcastically said I was going to end my “adulterous marriage,” the pastor answered me saying, “You’re a smart ass.”
My third wife moved in and out multiple times. At the same time, my son was deployed in Afghanistan, my father was dying, and I was left emotionally abandoned. At a very hopeless, dark point, God sent help. Pastor Mitchell from Holiday Community Fellowship—who knew me from my time at Living Word—stepped in. He had heard about the meeting at the church. He didn’t judge. He showed up. He supported my children. When my son came home from the war, he stood at the airport holding a welcome-home sign. He helped me find peace. One time, while I was sitting in his office, the true shepherd of the old church, Pastor Tim, called Mitchell to ask how I was doing, which meant a lot to me.
Mitchell is the reason I went back to school and eventually earned a Master of Arts in Theological Studies from Liberty University. Yes—after three divorces. What was I thinking? I was thinking that God’s grace really does cover everything.
Still Searching for a Spiritual Home
After Mitchell passed away, I tried another Southern Baptist church. Once again, I was invisible. Eventually, I tried a seeker-friendly church called The Chapel. On my first visit, the pastor was dressed as Mario from Super Mario Bros. I was bewildered. He often joked, “If you don’t like it, go to the Baptist church down the road.” After two years, I did just that. I returned to First Baptist of New Port Richey. That decision turned out to be a rinse, repeat cycle. For now, I am back with Super Mario, Super Mario’s theology seems to default more on Grace, so that is a good space.
God Still Used Me
During the season where I went back to the Baptist church, I worked as an Admissions Representative for a Bible college. I traveled across Florida preaching chapel services at Christian schools. No one asked about my divorce. No one cared. I preached messages aimed at Gen Z—”Why the Bible?”, “Who is Jesus?”, “Got Truth?”, and “Where is Your Hope?” I counted over 500 students who stood to receive Christ during that two-year period. God used me, despite my scars.
Eventually, the pandemic ended that chapter—but not the calling, not the story. As far as the local church is concerned, I am done being ghosted by the church. Now, I just share authentically with those God directly puts in front of me.
Final Thoughts
A study in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that divorced men are 9.7 times more likely to take their own lives than divorced women. Sadly, men are also more likely to be successful at taking their own lives. That statistic hits me hard; I know firsthand the experience of being that hopeless. Now that the divorces are a distant memory, and I wonder where God can use me now, I remember the most famous adulterer in the Bible, King David. I identify with the heart of King David when he stated in Psalm 51:13, “I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you.” Seems the qualification for ministry to the transgressors is to have been one. So here I am—a man who’s been through heartbreak, rejection, and on the path to healing. I am still clinging to grace and trusting Jesus with all the shattered pieces. Not because I’m perfect. But because He is.