Glimmers of resurrection

I think about those who walk through the darkness of Easter Saturday for days, months, years even. For them the joy of resurrection morning is long delayed.

Rebecca de Saintonge’s powerfully-written and intimate memoir One Yellow Door must be the most challenging book I have read in the last twelve months, the story of a woman who inhabited Easter Saturday for over nine years.

Ms de Saintonge describes her marriage to Jack, an Anglican vicar whose joyful faith rekindled her own, and the closeness of their relationship. ‘He was an extraordinary rock and with him I felt free, but utterly safe.’ 


However, six years on, Jack developed what was eventually diagnosed as Lewy Body Dementia, a particularly cruel condition in which the sufferer does not necessarily lose track of their identity as their brain begins to slowly close down. Rebecca was by Jack’s side throughout his painful journey, determined to care for him, ‘to squeeze out of life all possible joy and delight.’ 


We enter into her anguish as he suffers; into her need to withdraw emotionally from her beloved husband to protect herself as he is changed before her eyes; into the especial sorrow of those brief tantalising glimmers of resurrection when some strong emotion sparked Jack’s brain into life, and briefly he was able to speak, and almost as before. ‘All will be well, sweetheart.’ 

We experience her anger sometimes towards Jack, and sometimes (expressed in startlingly direct language) towards the seemingly cruel God who has abandoned them. ‘God, you have wounded my love.’ Is God in fact as vulnerable as she and Jack? A friend offers her solace by pointing to Jesus on the cross, the God who suffers alongside her, ‘a bloodied, loving, crucified Christ.’

Rebecca de Saintonge challenges us by the depth of her love and commitment to Jack, and by her searing honesty in facing up to the questions at a time when ‘the simple answers and formulae of Christianity’ no longer offer comfort.

Most controversially, One Yellow Door is challenging in the fact that the author found solace in her walk through Easter Saturday with a married man who, father to a boy with autism was no stranger to pain. De Saintonge does not ask for our approval. What she looks for is simply that we do as a couple of her friends in whom she confided failed to do – listen, and perceive.

She describes the confusion of her growing sense that Nick (the name she gives him in the book) was ‘a gift from God’ who sustains her and helps her to cope and be to Jack what he needs. She wrestles with the morality of this, but has an extraordinary experience of Christ’s presence with her. It was ‘not that Christ was condoning my relationship with Nicholas or forbidding my relationship with Nicholas but just that he was with me. There was no judgement, just his presence. He was holding me.’

Ten years after Jack’s death, she writes as though to him: ‘Nicholas saved us both, Jack.’

And finally, One Yellow Road is the story of a faith journey. Rebecca describes her mystical sense of joy and delight as a child. She tells her how her young, free heart became burdened by a false sense of guilt, and by the church’s endless words – rules, ritual, theology.  Heaven was silent, and she grew convinced that there was no God.

Fast forward ten years: Jack’s infectious faith reawakens Rebecca’s sense of the divine.  She has a sense of being ‘utterly loved and accepted’ by God, ‘of being reconnected with the source of all that was creative, and hopeful and restorative. It was healing, unconditional love.’

Once again, a theology grew around that experience, until, faced by Jack’s illness, she realised that theology didn’t hack it, and once again questioned everything. And yet, she is drawn back by ‘this great absence that seemed like a presence’ as poet R. S. Thomas put it.

Rebecca’s story challenges us both to go unafraid on our own journeys if we are called into unexpected paths, and to listen perceptively as others share their stories.

I think Rebecca de Saintonge has experienced the truth a friend shared with her: ‘Even at the very bottom of the barrel, we still stand on holy ground, not abandoned, but held in love.’ 

By the end of the book, she is learning to rest in stillness and openness.

‘I think sometimes, for the smallest moment, I sense, like blind Bartimaeus, the beloved stranger moving towards me in the crowd of the day.’ A glimmer of resurrection, not pointing poignantly to the past, but signposting that future when all will be well. ‘I wait for his touch.’

One Yellow Door by Rebecca de Saintonge is published by Darton, Longman and Todd. ISBN: 9780232532050

(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 31st March 2016)