Author: Katie Schuermann

I believe the Holy Scriptures to be the inerrant Word of God, inspired by the Holy Spirit and fulfilled in Christ Jesus, our risen Lord and Savior. Therefore, I have faith that children are exactly what God tells us they are in His Word: a heritage to receive from Him. Children are not a prize for me to earn, a commodity for me to demand, nor an idol for me to worship. They are a gift which my Heavenly Father only has the privilege to bestow and to withhold. If God makes me a mother, then I can receive His good gift of a child with all joy and confidence in His love for me. If God does not make me a mother, then I can still know with all joy and confidence that God loves me completely in His perfect gift of the Child Jesus whose sacrifice on the cross atoned for my sin and reconciled me to my Heavenly Father. I am God’s own child, purchased and won by the blood of Jesus, and God promises in His Word that He will work all things - even my barrenness - for my eternal good. For this reason, I can in faith confess that my barrenness is a blessing.

An Unforgivable Sin?

Question Submitted: I’m happily married. My husband and I want children, but we haven’t been blessed with any. I want to take comfort in the fact that God gives and withholds the gift of children as you say, but I can’t. God gave me the gift of a child years ago before I met my husband, and I aborted it. I murdered God’s gift, and now I’m left childless. I’m barren at my own hand. I don’t deserve to be comforted.

Dear one, I don’t deserve to be comforted, either, yet God comforts me, anyway. Hear God’s comfort for you from one of His called and ordained servants of the Word:

Dearest sister in Christ,

In this life one of the most difficult things is to be faced with the tragic consequences of sin, whether it’s our own sin or someone else’s. At times it seems that these consequences are like open wounds, refusing to completely heal, staring us in the face as reminders that everything is not as it should be because sin has corrupted our world and our lives. It’s in the “openness” of the wound, the seeming lack of healing, that we find the most grief and heartache. But it’s also in this very same openness that we are driven time and time again to our Lord. The fact that we can do nothing about it leads us to seek out the God who has done something about it on the cross of His Son. These constant reminders, these thorns in the flesh of our hearts, serve to draw us to the only One who makes us complete in the death and resurrection of His Son, who has conquered every sin and every death.

You have confessed your own sin and admit that you feel the sting of its reminder. In confessing your sin, you do not lack repentance. As our Catechism teaches, this admission of guilt is the first part of Confession. The second part is “that we receive absolution, that is, forgiveness, from the pastor as from God Himself, not doubting, but firmly believing that by it our sins are forgiven before God in heaven.” We have our Lord’s own Word, which promises, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). Your fear is that you don’t deserve to be comforted, but blessedly, God’s grace does not depend on our worthiness. That’s the beauty of grace. Your heavenly Father forgives you, in spite of what you deserve. He bathes you in the water of your Baptism and every stain is removed. It’s a trick of the devil to get us to look at our own worthiness. Don’t look to your own faithfulness or worthiness because your Lord is faithful and just and He forgives you of all unrighteousness.

In the Old Testament, King David had to deal with the consequences of his sin with Bathsheba. The prophet Nathan told him that because of David’s sin, the child born of that sin would die. David’s guilt and grief must have crushed him as he saw his own sin have such tragic consequences for his child. And yet David still trusted in the Lord’s mercy after this loss when he said, “Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me” (2 Sam. 12:23). David, the man familiar with grief and guilt over his own sin, also wrote: “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:8-12). David knew not to look at his own worthiness to be comforted. David trusted the Lord to relieve and comfort him because of the Lord’s mercy and grace.

Do not look to yourself or your own unworthiness, dear sister. You’ve confessed your sin, now hear the Lord’s forgiveness. The Lord does not deal with you according to your sin. Instead, He forgives it. He sent His Son to bear your sins, every specific one, and to put them to death on the cross. Jesus takes our darkest deeds onto Himself and He gives you His own holiness. Look to your Savior and what He has done and know that you are really and truly forgiven.

Sometimes it seems that our wounds of grief or guilt will never completely heal. But as I said before, these wounds, even the wound of childlessness that you have now, serve to draw us to our Lord again and again. When your conscience stings you, run to your Lord and receive the healing of His forgiveness in His Holy Supper. When the devil holds your sins in your face, go and confess those sins to one of the pastors that your Good Shepherd has sent to you and hear the words of forgiveness again and again. When you’re tempted to focus on your own sin or unworthiness, flee to Your Savior and focus instead on His perfection that He shares with you. Your Lord is greater than your sin and He forgives you. Hold to that when the grief and guilt seem too great. Your Father forgives you, loves you, and comforts you, not because of what you’ve done, but because of what His Son has done. Peace be with you.

Rev. Tony Oliphant

A Calling Out

Both Kristi and my husband drew my attention to yesterday’s USA Today article by Kirsten Powers.

In my husband’s own words:

“I don’t know if you’ve been following the trial of abortion doctor Kermit Gosnell (and maybe you shouldn’t because it’s really horrifying, the stuff of nightmares), but it’s truly appalling how there has been basically no reporting on it from the media. [Here] is a very good column on this (purposeful?) failure of the media in USA Today.”

Thank you, Ms. Powers, for calling out the media’s silence.

A Grave Disparity

Robert G. Edwards, the 2010 Nobel Prize winner of Physiology/Medicine for his development of in vitro fertilization (IVF), died yesterday at the age of 87.

Gina Kolata of The New York Times wrote in a recent article recounting Edwards’ controversial career that, according to the International Committee Monitoring Assisted Reproductive Technologies, the “technique [of IVF] has resulted in the births of five million babies…”

Not once in her article does Ms. Kolata attempt to tally the deaths that have resulted from Edwards’ awarded technique.

If we consider Edwards’ many failed attempts in the early 1970s to bring an IVF child to full health and vitality outside of the womb; all of the failed attempts at implantation made since then by the medical community at large; all of the children discarded and killed because of their sex, chromosomal abnormalities, perceived lack of vitality, or perceived genetic flaws; all of the children selectively terminated and sacrificed for the vitality of a perceived stronger brother or sister in the womb; and our current, dismal 29.4% success rate of implantation in IVF today, the exponential number of dead children to date is hard to even fathom.

Maybe that is why Ms. Kolata, the infertility industry, the CDC, and so much of the rest of the world choose to simply ignore them.

When will we as a culture start acknowledging the death that results from IVF? Do these children who have died not also deserve our attention and respect?

Hormone Therapy?

Question Submitted: I was wondering if you know where I might find good information about the ethics of the medicinal use of hormonal therapies for a married woman. It looks like I will probably be having to wade into some murky waters here soon. Tomorrow, I’m going to make an appointment with my OB. I saw her nurse practitioner a week ago, and she was thinking I need either three months of birth control or 10 days of progesterone, but we decided to see if time would help. Well, after nearly doubling over with cramps in the middle of the church service on Sunday because of my 4th menses in 2 months, I think we need to do SOMETHING. I trust my doctor for the medical info, but I don’t think she will be able to help with the ethics. My husband and I would like to be as well informed as we can be before making any decisions, but, to be honest, other than doing a little research that led us to avoiding hormones for birth control, we don’t even know were to start. I was hoping you could point us in a general direction. Thank you so much.

I am so sorry to hear you are in such physical pain. That is awful. I had similar pain episodes a couple years ago. They were excruciating, debilitating, and socially embarrassing.

I do not know of any particular published resources which I 100% recommend on this topic. At this point, I suggest you ask your OB-gyn some very frank questions, listen to her answers, talk to your husband/pastor/father confessor, research all you can about your doctor’s suggested treatment plans on the internet (Lutherans for Life and LCMS Life and Health Ministries may be helpful resources with this), and then make decisions according to your conscience. Remember, you do not have to make a decision in the doctor’s office. You can go home, take your time researching and discussing your options, and come back at a later time with your decision.

If it helps, at the request of my own OB-gyn, I took the pill for a few months a year-and-a-half ago to help her diagnose what kind of masses were growing in my abdomen. Since some types of masses are known to be hormone responsive, my undergoing hormone therapy helped my doctor diagnose (without immediately, surgically opening me up) whether or not those masses were cancer, regular cysts, fibroids, or endometriomas. The results of the hormone therapy helped my doctor better treat me and, in the end, prepare for surgery.

I will admit that in order not to burden our own consciences, my husband and I abstained during that time.

I also bartered with my doctor. I acknowledged her need for me to take the pill for diagnostic purposes, but I also explained that I was only willing to take it for a limited season of time. She understood from the beginning that the pill was never going to be an acceptable, longterm treatment option for me. I think that information helped her make alternative treatment decisions for me before, during, and after my surgery. My surgery was successful, though my doctor had to leave some offensive tissue in my body so as not to destroy some of my organs. In an effort to get rid of that tissue, I then took Lupron Depot shots for six months in order to starve the tissue of my own hormones and, hopefully, kill it.

I am neither advocating nor discouraging you from taking hormone therapy for the purposes of healing medicine. I never thought I ever would, but, when the time came, the risks of vascular bleeding in undergoing immediate surgery and the risks of an ovarian torsion in doing nothing outweighed the longterm health risks of hormone therapy for me. My doctor was also reticent to perform a hysterectomy at the time unless she absolutely had to, as the consequences of depleting my body of its natural hormones in my early thirties also had longterm risks. Every woman is different, every diagnosis is different, and every treatment plan is different. Just be sure to ask your doctor detailed questions about the entire effects of any therapy which you engage. Let her know that you have religious concerns that could burden your conscience if you engage in any therapy which might potentially serve as contraception or an abortifacient. Whether your doctor agrees with you or not, she is a professional who wants the best for you and your health and most likely will respect your request with honest, forthright answers. She does not have to agree with you to be a good physician.

At this point, I do not plan on engaging in any more hormone therapy for long-term health reasons. My husband and I agreed to undergo such therapy once in an attempt to rectify the immediately dangerous situation. If I continue to have problems post-surgery, my husband and I are seriously considering alternative options, even a hysterectomy, for hormone therapy does have its own longterm consequences on the female body.

These are such hard decisions. I am sorry that they are also undefined and ethically murky in so many ways. I am serious about asking your doctor the hard questions. Listen to her, talk to your husband, make a decision you can live with, and trust in Christ always.

+ Mrs. Jeanne Korby +

Mother’s Day 2009 was particularly gruesome. I was living in that tortured season of hope that is a barren woman’s early thirties, and every month brought a fresh wave of pain, guilt, anger, and confusion. Mother’s Day was a fat, juicy lemon whose acid was being mercilessly squeezed into my open wound.

To make matters worse, I was without my husband that day. I can’t remember why – perhaps he was guest preaching out of town or on some seminary trip – but I walked into the church all by my lonesome that morning.

I had to walk past the table where corsages were being handed out to mothers in the congregation. The dreaded walk of shame. My cheeks burned red with humiliation.

A be-flowered friend stepped up to me in the narthex. She fingered her corsage while she spoke. I can’t remember what she said, but I remember the tightness in my throat as I willed the tears not to spill. If I could just make it into the church. Someone special was waiting for me there.

I slid onto a cold pew in the side wing of the nave. Next to the wheelchair.

“You can be my daughter today, and I’ll be your mother.”

“Thank you, Jeanne,” I whispered, the tears falling freely, now. I didn’t need to hide them from Jeanne. She already knew. Still, I wiped at them, not wanting anyone else to know.

We sat by each other through the whole service. I probably even leaned on her, she with the fragile back and weak cartilage. She was always stronger than she looked.

We took and ate the Body and Blood of our Lord together in the side chapel reserved for those who have trouble making it up to the altar. As we knelt at the rail, I whispered in her ear, “Jeanne, what do you think about when you take the Lord’s Supper?”

She didn’t balk at my imprudence. She and I always talked like this. Forthright. Familiar. Honest.

“I think,” she whispered back, “‘Lord, I am a sinner. Give me all.'”

Thank you, Jeanne, for being a mother to me in my grief, for mentoring me as a pastor’s wife, and for teaching me the prayer I still pray at the altar today. I rejoice in knowing that Christ Jesus has, indeed, given you all. I wait with you for the resurrection day, dear friend. +

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Ouch

I admit that I neglect the topic of physical pain on this site. It is a selfish decision on my part. I don’t like to dwell on it. Physical pain simply is, and I can’t do a whole lot about it. It is something to be managed and endured for the long run, and I am the queen of self-numbing when it comes to long runs. Deep breath, chin up, eyes ahead, slow and steady.

However, I do not mean to neglect or ignore your own physical pain, dear reader. I know you are weary. I know you have to stay home two days a month from your job because of the searing pain. I know your menses are more than inconvenient; they are debilitating and socially impossible. I know you can neither stand nor sit nor lie down when the pain hits, and I know you vomit and writhe and pass out from the experience. I know the injections, therapies, surgeries, and crazy dietary restrictions are giant feet kicking your already dead horse. I know you shake your head at heaven every time a cyst bursts and ask “Really, Lord? Isn’t my childlessness alone already painful enough?”

Yet, physical pain is a symptom, not the root, of the problem of barrenness. Sin is the culprit which leaves our bodies twisted in pain, and only Christ’s atonement for that Sin will do. His blessed exchange on the cross, His loving sacrifice of Himself for the Sin of the world, is the reason we have hope in the midst of our pain. For, we know that our Redeemer did not stay dead but lives, and though fibroids and cysts and scar tissue and cancer and worms may destroy our bodies, yet in our flesh will we see God.

So, by all means, consult your doctors, your naturopaths, and your pharmacists for help in managing your physical pain, for they are God’s good gifts to us in this life; but, when the pain cannot be managed and simply must be endured, remember your suffering Savior on the cross and cry out, “Lord, have mercy!” and know that He does.

One More Thing

Speaking of our tendency to seek purpose in everything, our dear Joanna just brought the following quote to my attention:

“The natural view of God, which we construct by our own powers, is one in which we try to fit everything into the concept of the One, the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. For the theologian of the cross, however, this view has been shattered by painful disillusionment. Therefore, the death of the old nature means the end of…all attempts to anticipate [meaning] by postulating it hypothetically.” (Theology the Lutheran Way by Oswald Bayer, 26).

Exactly.

A Mother of Mothers

You’ve probably noticed by now that I rarely blog about the specifics of my vocations in life. It’s not because I don’t have them, and it’s not because I don’t rejoice in them. It’s simply that I am wary of suggesting that your barren life should look anything like mine. God gives each of us different neighbors to serve in life, and there is no sense in comparing.

(That, and the temptation to over-define God-given vocation as purpose can be too overwhelming.)

Yet, there are moments when my joy in my barrenness is such that I have trouble not waxing on all things vocational with you, so if you would indulge me for a few sentences…

Do you know what I love about being barren? I get to be a mother of mothers. God keeps putting more and more of them in my life. These beautiful, hard-working, self-sacrificing, sleepless women keep showing up on my humble path, and I get to serve them. I get to listen to them, nurture them, encourage them, comfort them, cook for them, clothe them, offer them hospitality, render them retreats, take them out for dinner, sing with them, dry their tears, watch their children, do their laundry, clean their bathrooms and floors, invite them over for coffee or tea, play with them, and commend them to my Father in Heaven in prayer.

What a beautiful thing it is to be barren of children but a mother of mothers!

The Purpose Driven Barren Life

pur-pose
noun
1. the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists

We are obsessed with purpose these days. We seek purpose in everything we do to give our very lives meaning. It comforts us, even puffs us up.

We even seek purpose in the things that happen to us. Take barrenness. If we can determine some reason as to why God is making us barren, then our suffering suddenly has a meaning, an objective, maybe even merit. If there is a purpose to our barrenness, then we are somehow elevated from miserable victim to blessed martyr. We suddenly have a life worthy of the interest of Oprah, Joel Osteen, and Rick Warren, and the prominence of this self-ascribed, higher purpose makes our wretched barrenness not sting so much.

But barrenness should sting. It is a result of Sin in the world, a devolution of the way God created things to be, and no amount of purpose changes that terrible truth.

The danger in trying to assign a particular purpose to our barrenness is that we are actually attempting to define the hidden will of God. We are trying to explain something that has not been explained to us in Holy Writ. We are trying to reveal that which has not been clearly revealed, and we should be wary of putting our hope, trust, and comfort in something that God has not made known to us in His Word. For, most likely, that self-assigned purpose will fail us in the face of the devil, Sin, and our flesh.

This is why it pains me so much when other people try assigning purpose to my own barren state:

“God made you barren so that you could write a book to help other people.”

“God made you barren so that you can be a better mother to all of the youth in your church.”

“God made you barren so that you will have more compassion for orphans and embryos.”

“God made you barren so that you will better appreciate having children when He gives them to you.”

Is any of this true? I certainly don’t know, because God has not revealed any of this to me in His Word, and, I suspect, neither has He revealed it to you.

Then, what true purpose is there in my barrenness? Outside of knowing that my womb is unfruitful because of Sin in the world and that God is allowing my womb to stay unfruitful, I don’t know from God’s Word why I am barren.

Here’s what I do know from God’s Word: Whatever purpose my barrenness serves, God is working it for the good of me and my neighbor; and, because God’s good grace is sufficient for me, I am free to serve the neighbors He has given me in abundance. Yes, that even includes the youth in my church, orphans, embryos, and you.

But, dear church, that is my vocation, not my purpose. Let’s not confuse the two.

Pastors Roundtable – Chicago

Calling all pastors in the Chicago area!

We could use your help formulating theological responses to ethical points of contention surrounding in vitro fertilization, embryonic adoption, and contraception. Would you please join us, Katie Schuermann and Rebecca Mayes, for a roundtable discussion of these issues and their effects on all of us in the church? Lunch will be provided by our generous hosts at Apostles Lutheran Church. Please RSVP by Wednesday, March 20th through the Submit a Question page on this website if you plan to attend.

When: Friday, March 22nd
Where: Apostles Lutheran Church, 10429 Fullerton Ave., Melrose Park, IL 60164

Roundtable Schedule:

10:00 AM – Arrive in the narthex (coffee available)
10:15 AM – Matins
10:45 AM – Roundtable discussion
12:00 PM – Lunch

Thank you for your help!

He Remembers the Barren

God remembers you in Jesus