Editor’s note: Spouses are left with mistrust, anger, and betrayal after an affair. But what about children? Their hurt gets mixed with shock and confusion, unaware of the relational dynamics that led up to the infidelity. The news can have long-term emotional and spiritual effects, as kids wonder how a parent they loved could do something so hurtful.
Today's contributor—a writer and divinity school student—reflects on her family’s story. Out of respect for her father, who has not shared this publicly, she is writing anonymously. – Kate
I was 17, a senior in high school, working in my father’s store. Rumors had been floating for a few months that my dad was having an affair with a sales representative who visited the store periodically.
I did not believe it. My parents were adorably in love: regularly going on dates and trips, getting a bit too affectionate in front of their kids, laughing at each other’s jokes like they were in high school. And my dad was one of my most important spiritual role models: leading the family in devotions, spending hours talking theology with me, inspiring me to go to divinity school.
Then, one day he called me into his office. There was no mention of that woman, but he brought up problems with my mom and the possibility of divorce. I was in shock. I thought, Who are you, and what did you do with my real father? I could not reconcile this person with the dad I knew.
Six years later, my dad was pursuing his third affair. Each lasted a few months. I could tell when he was cheating by how little he was around and how much his personality changed. The timing was always terrible. Each major event in my life—graduating high school, going to college, and my wedding day—felt tainted by his infidelity. I didn’t know what triggered him to leave and come back, he and my mom returning to normal. During those times, my dad was his old self: affectionate, fun, generous, and devoting himself to God in prayer and Bible study. I didn’t know if he apologized to my mom and made things right again, but he had never apologized to me and my two sisters.
By that third affair, I was angry at my mom too. “You never gave him any consequences,” I said. “You let him have his cake and eat it too. What did you expect?” This might have been unfair, but she took it. And the scenario played out differently that time. My mom made him move out for a time, and she went on a date with someone else. Dad became so jealous he could hardly stand it. Finally, as he was beginning to break off the affair, his mistress's husband tracked him down and beat him up.
It’s been 14 years since his last affair. It seems my dad is “cured.” Was that the low point he needed to reach in order for things to change? Maybe. Over time, the Holy Spirit worked to grow and flourish the seeds of faith he had always had. He developed relationships of openness and accountability with other Christian men. He and my mom reached a new level of honesty, grace, and mutual respect. He dove in wholeheartedly to his relationships with his kids and grandkids. Perhaps the most striking sign of redemption? He and my mom now meet with couples in their church who are struggling with the effects of an affair.
Meanwhile, those of us hurt by his sin were left to make sense of it all. What was happening? Could we forgive without naively opening ourselves up to being hurt again?
A few years after my dad's final affair, our family was invited to sit in the audience of an Oprah show featuring married couples who had stayed together after an affair. When I spoke to one of Oprah’s people a few weeks before, I remember narrating my dad’s story and realizing for the first time: I’ve forgiven him.
That forgiveness had not come easily. My dad and I never had the bare-it-all, face-to-face talk I would have liked. But he began to talk openly about his sin in a way he never had—even if only in spurts. At dinner one night, he said that he saw himself as being like King David—whose name my dad shares—in all of David’s brokenness and sinfulness, but also in the restoration God brought to him. While my dad never fully apologized for the hurt he had caused me, I received moments like that as his way of acknowledging his sin and its consequences. I knew how hard it was for him to speak openly—his own family had a lot of brokenness and never spoke openly about sin and hurt—and recognized he was trying to build a bridge.
I am finally able to hold together the two sides of my dad. Previously he had existed in my head as evil/hurtful dad and good/loving dad. But then I allowed myself to view the two together. My dad is a complex person, full of sin and weakness, but also strengths and gifts. As we all are. This understanding allowed me to view the temptation toward infidelity as my dad’s “thing.” Mine is laziness and procrastination. For some, it’s alcohol. For others, greed. My dad’s is being tempted by sexually and emotionally intimate affairs with other women. That stinks. And it hurts a lot of people—so the recovery and reconciliation process can be longer and more difficult. But, ultimately, it’s a sin like any other sin.
As Christians we affirm that all have sinned and stand condemned apart from Christ. Certainly, some sins have greater earthly consequences than others. But no sin is “worse” than the other in the sense that all sin separates us from God. The good news of the gospel is that Christ saves us from sin by identifying himself with sinners. We learn from Romans 8 that there is no condemnation for those in Christ—whatever their history—because God has condemned sin in the flesh by “sending his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh.” Or, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5, “He made him who knew no sin to be sin.” He did that for us: the greedy, the gossipers, the liars, and, yes, even the adulterers.
At that Oprah show, a young man sat on stage with his wife sharing about an affair he had had early in their marriage. He talked about being “disgusted” with himself, even as it was happening. Oprah rolled her eyes: “You were disgusted while you were having sex with this neighbor?” Her scorn was palpable. And I thought, Of course he was! That’s how sin works! As Augustine, the premiere Christian theologian on sin, wrote, “For these two can coexist in one person: both the hating it because one knows it is evil and the doing it because one decided to do it.”
As Christians, we understand sin in the light of grace and of the created goodness of humanity. Our society likes to alternatively demonize and idealize people. It’s happening right now in the political sphere. But we Christians must be different. We must embrace the complexity of our fellow humans, knowing that our most admired hero can (and will) fail us. But we must also remember that their failures don’t define them any more than their successes do. Christ defines them, as he defines me, as he defines you. Thank God.
