Author: Rebecca Mayes

The Gift of Compassion

Just a couple days after my miscarriage in 2009, a dear friend sent me a small package containing a handwritten note and a prism hanging on a string. This is a women who cares for a full house and has plenty of excuses for not reaching out to every person in need, but somehow she managed to promptly find and send me a beautiful gift and a message that I will treasure for years. She wrote:

Dear Rebecca,

My heart is broken for you. We have all been robbed, and no one more than you, Ben and Caleb. How strange to think there could be a bosom even more perfect for your baby than your own.

Someday, when our tears have been wiped away and all is made new, we will see a brilliant and beautiful person who could only be the child of Benjamin and Rebecca, and we will finally hold and know and marvel at your baby. Until then, here is something that could never approximate that beauty and brilliance. We are all poor icons of what is real. So I hope that even what feeble light it can refract for you will bring you joy.

I pray that the Lord would allow me to somehow be there for others at just the right time with just the right words, as this dear friend was able to be there for me. If there’s nothing else that we learn from this journey of barrenness, let us at least learn true compassion and empathy.

Words to Memorize

Other than the Lord’s Prayer, I can think of no better prayer for the barren woman to have engraved in her heart than the collect for the fifth Sunday after Trinity. I have pledged to memorize it myself this week so that it might be quickly recalled during those moments of heartache. It beautifully refocuses our desires to that which will never disappoint us.

O God, You have prepared for those who love You good things that surpass all understanding. Pour into our hearts such love toward You that we, loving You above all things, may obtain Your promises, which exceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

In the Courts of the Lord’s House

How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God. Ps. 84:1-2

There is no better place to go when you are at the breaking point, no place more suited to address your emotional wounds and your breaking heart, than the House of the Lord. I don’t just mean the building itself, of course, but the Divine Service that is held there weekly by the man who is in the stead of Christ and commanded by Him to administer to you the medicine you need. The cleansing, healing, and nourishing effects of what happens each Sunday to those gathered in the Lord’s House are supernatural and, though invisible to the naked eye, completely transforming to the soul.

In They Will See His Face (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2002), Richard C. Eyer highlights seven parts of the liturgy that speak to the frailty of our human existence and are particularly meaningful for the barren woman. The consistent and dependable flow of liturgical worship weaves Scripture throughout and includes all the promises that seem to be forgotten throughout the week. Our souls, so weak and weary from the crosses we carry and so easily distracted by worldly pursuits, have the opportunity to refocus on Him who is the true source of all help, comfort and joy—Jesus Christ.

At the beginning of the service we have the opportunity to confess those sins that always accompany the soul that feels deprived of something. There’s discontent, jealousy, impatience, even idolatry at times. Guided by the words written in our hymnals we admit that, “We have not loved You with our whole heart,” and we plead with the Lord to, “Forgive us, renew us and lead us, so that we may delight in Your will and walk in Your ways, to the glory of Your holy name.” That’s right, the sinner remembers, through Christ’s renewal and His guidance, I can find delight in His will, whatever that may turn out to be.

Having confessed our sins and then receiving absolution from our pastor, we seek to enter into God’s presence with what Eyer refers to as the “password,” the Invocation, where we speak the name that was spoken to us on the day of our baptisms, when we were brought into God’s family: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of Holy Spirit. “It is there,” says Eyer, “in the presence of God and lifted out of ourselves by God, that we find healing for all our anxieties, worries, and fears. And if we are willing, they can all be left behind so that we may return to our homes in peace” (p. 35). In God’s presence, under the shadow of His name, there is no need for those anxieties, worries, or fears. They are washed away once again.

The experience of barrenness can be so isolating and can cause one to feel separated from others who might not understand the depths of your pain. A harmful gap can occur between you and those around you who have experienced such effortless fertility. It is in the fellowship of our brothers and sisters in Christ, coming into the presence of God and joining together throughout the service in prayer and song that this gap is bridged and our focus becomes united. “Loneliness cries out for the solitude that comes from a maturing faith. Solitude is found in fellowship with God and the worshiping community, where we are fed the Gospel in Word and Sacraments by God Himself” (p. 46).

Depression is also one of many responses to barrenness, and Eyer helps us see how vital it is that those dealing with depression listen carefully to the Word that is read during the service. “The Old Testament, the Epistle, and the Gospel assure us that in the midst of our difficulties, disappointments, and depression, God is there to do what we cannot. … The importance of hearing the Word of God in times of depression, as well as any other, is that it provides a vision of what is objectively true regardless of how we feel at the moment. We need to hear the Word of hope even if we don’t feel it at the moment. God’s Word to the believer is always a Word of hope” (pg. 70). As opposed to what some well-meaning matron of the congregation might tell you, this “hope” that we trust in is not the hope of conceiving—it’s so much bigger than that. It is the hope that the One already conceived long ago by the Holy Spirit, our Lord Jesus Christ, will make all things new for us after we breathe our last breath on this earth. No more tears, no more longing, no more wishing for something that is not ours—only the acquisition of that heavenly reward which we do not deserve.

I encourage you to read Eyer’s book and learn more about “The Peace of the Lord and the Healing of Grief,” “The Prayers of the Church and Healing of our Sickness,” and “The Creed and the Healing of our Intellect.” So much more comfort and encouragement awaits the barren woman in these pages. She who understands what is truly offered in the Divine Service will cherish the relief that it brings and will be better able to acknowledge Christ as the only One who fully satisfies our wounded hearts and makes us whole again.

I come, oh Savior, to Thy table

For weak and weary is my soul.

Thou Bread of Life alone art able

To satisfy and make me whole.

Lord, may Thy body and Thy blood

Be for my soul the highest good.

                Lutheran Service Book #618

The IVF Question

Well, it’s time. You knew this would come up sooner or later. It’s just something that can’t be avoided when discussing infertility in the 21st century. Maybe you’re considering the procedure yourself with the encouragement of your physician, family and friends. Maybe you’re tired of hearing about other couples who have successfully conceived by means of IVF while you and your spouse have decided that it’s not an option. Either way, this post is for you.

It wouldn’t be appropriate to dive into this sticky subject without making sure that we define what we’re talking about (courtesy of the Word English Dictionary):

IVF=A technique enabling some women who are unable to conceive to bear children. Egg cells removed from a woman’s ovary are fertilized by sperm in vitro; some of the resulting fertilized egg cells are incubated until the blastocyst stage, which are then implanted into her uterus.

 Merriam-Webster defines it similarly. These definitions are medical definitions using medical terminology. What would it look like if we used non-medical English and a biblical understanding of the life process?

IVF=A technique enabling some women who are unable to conceive to bear children. Egg cells surgically removed from a woman’s ovary are fertilized by sperm in a glass dish; some of the tiny human beings who are conceived are kept [in a laboratory] under the proper conditions for development until these children have grown a bit stronger, and they are then implanted into her uterus.

 After reading this through again, there is one word that should be jumping out at you as the most important word of all. Did you catch it? Some. It’s so small you almost don’t realize it’s of any significance and yet it changes everything. Some of the tiny humans have a chance at life and therefore some do not. What is implied but not explained is the fact that some of the tiny humans are not needed. They are of no value to the new parents and are therefore destroyed or frozen. If we believe that human life begins at conception, then it’s clear that IVF, as defined here, makes some tiny human lives and then destroys or freezes many of those human beings. That is the main problem.

We know the Bible speaks to this point. The Fifth Commandment, “You shall not murder,” applies to life at all ages and stages. Martin Luther’s explanation to this commandment makes it clear that we have broken this law whenever we employ any procedure that hurts or harms our neighbor in his body and fails to help and support him in every physical need.  Christians believe, and now science has acknowledged, that life begins at conception, whether in the womb or in a dish. And all life is precious and worthy of our compassion and protection.

Though difficult to admit, the couple who emerges from a “successful” IVF procedure does so as the parents of both living and dead (or frozen) children. There’s much rejoicing and congratulations exchanged, but no acknowledgement of what’s been lost. Is it ignorance? Or is it apathy? In both cases we have to admit that it is sin. There’s no getting around it.

At this point, let me remind you of the life-changing words from the apostle John: “If we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, God, who is faithful and just will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrightousness” (1 John 1:8-9). Yes, that means you, too, who are sitting there perhaps without the burden of IVF in your past but plenty of self-rightousness, jealousy, and distrust in your heart to even out the scales. The call to repentance and the promise of forgiveness is yours as well. Christ’s payment for sin was necessary not just for some, but for all. Humility before God and the desire to live and walk under His law in all things prepares the heart to receive the cleansing blood of Christ and the joyous proclamation of forgiveness in the Gospel, both preached and applied individually. Repent, confess, receive, and then put the past behind you. Believe our Lord when He says, “I, I am He who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isaiah 43:25).

So then, how are we to view the children who survive the IVF procedure and come to full-term, knowing that they were conceived in sin? My friend Katie has the answer: “We can know with certainty that all children are exactly what God tells us they are in His Word: a heritage from Him.  Whatever controversies surround in vitro fertilization, the children that are conceived and born to us through such procedures are still a heritage from the Lord.  God’s love is what makes any and every child valuable in this life, not the means of parentage.”

Here’s a similar example: Many children adopted into Christian families were conceived outside of marriage. This behavior is not part of God’s plan for procreation. And yet the result of that act is a precious child of God, baptized into His name and living a life under His care and protection, graciously placed within a Christian family. God takes an evil situation and turns it into good, as He has done repeatedly throughout history.

Despite the fact that I desperately want more children, I still could never condone or encourage anyone to engage in immoral behavior that would result in conception, birth, and a potential adoption for me or any other woman. Likewise, we can treasure and be thankful for those children who came to us through IVF, even though the process was not at all how God intended to create families, and even though we hope and pray that others will avoid IVF.

Does Jesus love the children conceived through IVF? He most certainly does. In fact, He’s on their side. He says, “As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to Me” (Matt. 25:40). But Jesus says this not only about the IVF children who survive, but also about those who are intentionally allowed to die or are frozen. “As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to Me.” Since life begins at conception, let us never think that IVF, as defined above, is a permissible option for Christians.

For more information on this topic, please check out the following resources:

http://issuesetc.org/archives/nov08/nov19.html (Dr. Kevin Voss of the Concordia Bioethics Institute on Issues, Etc.)

In Vitro Fertilization: Moral or Immoral?

What Are We to Do with the Embryos?

A Review of Reproductive Technologies

Why We Suffer

The Israelites are finally rescued from Egyptian oppression by their God, led out of Egypt and heading towards the promised land where the living will be easy. But then they run into some rather unpleasant circumstances. The supply of food runs out, there’s no water, and they’re getting impatient. This trip isn’t what they expected, nor is this how they foresaw their prayers being answered. This God isn’t who they thought He was.

The Jews in Jerusalem witness the triumphant entry of the man who they know has come to deliver them from Roman tyranny. He has exhibited his power over sickness and demons. He has put scribes and pharasees in their place. He zealously wielded a whip around the temple courtyard, driving out the money changers. He seems invincible—that is until word gets out that he was arrested. The sight of him being dragged around in chains and his unwillingness to speak up for himself when accused is simply pathetic. A true savior would never take this kind of treatment. This man isn’t who they thought he was.

The barren woman experiences the same realizations that these biblical figures did. We have the same initial expectations. “God is a gracious God and He has promised to rescue me in times of trouble, so here I am, hand outstretched for the life preserver. I’m ready Lord … any day now … I know You’re coming. Hello? Can you hear me?” And yet the Rescuer does not arrive. This isn’t the kind of treatment we expected from our God.

If there’s one thing that suffering teaches a person it is this: God is not who you thought He was. I don’t care if you were baptized the moment you emerged from the womb and intensely indoctrinated in the Holy Scriptures, the Small Catechism, and the Augsburg Confession from kindergarten on, there is simply no better teaching tool about who God is than personal suffering. Our Lutheran fathers in the faith called this teaching the “Theology of the Cross.”  It is the realization that the Christian life will include various sufferings and we will each, at some point in our lives, carry crosses of our own, though some bigger than others.

By our very natures we seek to live lives according to the opposite teaching, the  “Theology of Glory,” where we only experience God’s glorious blessings, peace, and harmony each and every day, shunning any experience that might require some pain, patience, or self-denial. The desire for the “good life” is not evil by any means, but the rejection and avoidance of the Father’s loving discipline is a rejection of God Himself and all that He has planned for us.

In my recent search for the meaning behind the trials and tribulations God sends to His children, my scholarly husband pointed me to Divine Providence and Human Suffering by James Walsh, S.J., and P.G. Walsh (published by Spring Arbor Distributors). This is a collection of essays by our fathers in the faith which address numerous topics related to suffering. I was particularly drawn to the essay called The Twelve Advantages of Tribulations by Peter of Blois, a pastor from the 12th century. I want to share with you a summary of his comments and some thought-provoking quotes from the essay.

1. Through tribulation God seeks to deliver our souls from our enemies, which include “false joys and deceitful prosperity in this world.” It also “prunes our hearts to rid it of superfluous love for earthly goods so we might bear spiritual fruit” (p. 144).

2. Tribulation refines and strengthens our hearts, just as a sword is cleaned and filed in order to stay sharp. “[I]n the same way the human heart, without being exercised by tribulation, gathers rust” (p. 146).

3. Tribulation drives us to confession, so that we can properly see ourselves and our miserable state and understand our desperate need for a Savior (p. 148).

4. Tribulation causes your prayers to be heard by God: “The Lord will listen to the entreaty of the wounded” (Eccl 35:16). In times of good fortune we can get lazy in our worship. God often causes suffering so that, unlike this, our suffering will force us to call upon Him (p. 159).

5. Tribulation is evidence of God’s love for you, as stated in Rev. 3:19: “Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline.” Blois says, “So if you wish to be loved by God, dear soul, do not reject the tribulations which reveal to you the proof of divine love. … [E]ndure your tribulation now with Christ, so that you may in the end win a crown in the kingdom of heaven. As the Apostle says, ‘We must enter the kingdom of heaven only by many tribulations’ (Acts 14:21)” (pp. 161-162).

In addition to the above reminders of why tribulations come our way, Blois asks the reader to look at her own suffering and compare it to what our Lord Jesus Christ was willing to endure on our behalf.  The church-goer who has lived a carefree life without many trials may very well rush through the words of the Apostles Creed, “He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell.” The Christian who carries her own small cross will carefully reflect upon these words, for she has been given a glimpse of the pain that paid for her sin and is more acutely aware of the gravity of our Lord’s sacrifice. The connection that is made between our suffering and His helps us more clearly see who He really is—a God who will do whatever it takes to help His children remember Him, call upon Him and rely on His providence alone.

I leave you with a final word from Blois who, some 800 years after his death, has been able to paint such a vivid picture in my mind of Christ’s love for me that I don’t believe I can ever look at my pain the same way again.

So realize, O soul, that it is the custom of lovers to send letters to each other, and to remind each other of the welcome and reciprocated kindnesses shown to each other, and to fear that these may be forgotten. This is why your lover Jesus Christ has visited tribulation on you… . Realize, then, that Jesus has kept the scars of his wounds which he endured for you as keepsakes. … So Christ himself says: “I shall not forget you; I have graven you on the palms of my hands” (Isah. 49:16), that is, “When I was stretched on the cross for love of you.” So if Christ has kept the scars of his wounds as keepsakes, do not be angry if he sends tribulations on you to make you mindful of him. (p. 149)

Thy Will Be Done…(but what is it?)

Our first adoption was so easy. From the beginning of the paperwork to the day we brought Caleb home was less than nine months. The entire process couldn’t have gone smoother. This experience gave us a false assurance that we were back in control of our lives. We knew how to write a good birthparent letter, we had a cute album and therefore we were picked within just a few months. No sweat. Too bad those other poor couples didn’t have it altogether like we did.

Fast forward seven years to adoption #2. We’ve learned our lesson. We now know beyond a doubt that we are not in control. Everything was submitted more than two years ago and we have finally reached the point where we have been waiting longer than any other family at our agency (which I realize is not that long, compared to what so many others have experienced). Because the birthmothers are the ones who choose which family they like best, this brings us to an unsettling realization—no one wants us.

We certainly must have done something wrong with the paperwork or the album, then, right? In fact, out of pity for us the agency recently made some suggestions for changes, such as updating some of our photos and possibly adding some more color to the scrapbook pages.

“That’s it!” I thought sarcastically after getting off the phone with the social worker. “It’s color that’s the problem. More color will solve everything. Lack of colored paper is keeping us from getting another baby. How could we have not seen this earlier??”

The entire process of adopting  a child is saturated with decisions that are agonizing to make at the beginning and that cause you to constantly doubt yourself from that point forward. When the decisions have all been made and you get no referral after a few months you start torturing yourself again over what you might have done wrong. “I shouldn’t have said that we homeschool. Birthparents might think that’s weird. We should never have chosen to do foreign adoption. Everything is too uncertain. My profile really isn’t that interesting—don’t I have more hobbies than that? Should I take up some new hobbies?” Ridiculous though it may sound, these are the thoughts that come to mind. These are the thoughts that can haunt you and keep you up at night.

It’s very easy to get caught up trying to guess what the right choice is and what God wants us to do. And yet that kind of thinking only increases the stress that’s already there­. Not only is it unhelpful, it’s completely unnecessary. Do you want to know what God’s will is? Here’s a great answer from an article in the book Lutheranism 101:

[God’s] will for your life is clear: ‘Repent and believe in the gospel’ (Mark 1:15). So many people are tormented, trying to figure out what God’s will is. They doubt their decisions. If a decision turns out badly, they think that they have disobeyed God. But there is no need to be uncertain. God gives you His moral Law, which is written clearly in Scripture, and He gives you the Good News about Jesus. Beyond that, He gives you freedom…

 To find certainty about God’s will for your life, don’t look at your heart; look at His Word. Where He has not spoken, you have freedom. In those cases, use your reason. Then you can have certainty that what you are doing is acceptable to Him, even if your decisions go wrong. (p. 55-56)

You see, the hundreds of decisions we make pertaining to adoption can be made with confidence, logic, and assistance from wise friends, relatives and your pastor. Don’t think you can afford a foreign adoption? Then domestic is where you need to focus your efforts. Not sure you have the resources to properly raise a child of another race in the small town in which you live? Then leave that part of the checklist blank. It’s OK.

In Romans chapter 8, we are comforted by the promise that God is working everything together for our good. He has given you freedom to make plans as you see fit and He will take those plans and either fulfill them, alter them, or show you something completely different that He knows is just right for you.

So rest well tonight, my sisters, trusting that the Master weaver is taking all your decisions and plans and weaving them into a beautiful tapestry, according to His will, which has yet to be revealed to you. And while you rest, I’ll be up late, taking the advice of our wise social worker by adding new photos to our album and—you guessed it—a lot more colored paper.

Free to Serve

Are there any blessings that come from a life of barrenness? Most certainly. Last week I had the priviledge of experiencing one of them. I was able, by the grace of God, to look at my station in life, to consider my empty womb and my only child and say with St. Paul, “Rejoice in the Lord always! And again I say, Rejoice!” How is this possible? Last week someone needed me.

My flexible schedule, my helpful and increasingly independent 7-year-old and my saintly husband all contributed to me being able to be a blessing to a church family who needed help. Very few people are able to do what I can do because they have full-time jobs, school commitments, little children, or other responsibilities. Currently in my life I am somewhat free, and this freedom has allowed me the opportunity to provide for a family whose father has experienced emergency surgery and whose mother is about to bring another new life into this world. There are no grandmothers to come take over the household, only friends and neighbors who are trying to take the place of that precious role.  Yes, it is stressful at times to try and get everything scheduled so that all the needs are met. But oh, what a joy to know that we can be the hands and feet of Christ, caring for His people and loving His little children until both mom and dad are healthy and fully capable of returning to their duties.

Each day that we wake up in the morning, we women who are waiting on the Lord decide how to view this life that has been given to us. Despair, heartache, frustration, longing—these are all emotions that cannot be avoided. They should not, however, be allowed to take over our lives. While we wait for whatever it is that our hearts desire—be it physical healing, pregnancy, adoption, or peace to accept a childless life—we have a calling to be active in our current station, to be content, and, yes, even to rejoice.

Helen Keller once echoed some of St. Paul’s words from Philipians 4:11-12 when she wrote, “Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.” Darkness and silence have wonders? How strange for us to comprehend. But when you lack the ability to do what others can it makes you acutely aware of those things that others take for granted, and the gifts you still posses become stronger than they normally would be. The gifts that many of us possess right now are time and flexibility.  Combined with our now-accute awareness of those who are suffering in some way, these gifts can overflow into huge blessings for those around us.

Dear sisters, forget yourselves for a time in acts of love and service to your neighbors. Look upon their pain and help them carry their burdens. And as you do so, praise God that He can use you for His purpose to serve in roles that few women these days can do. What some see as a curse you can view as a unique opportunity and blessing while you wait. So give thanks, be content, and you’ll find that even through your tears and longing the Lord will help you to “Rejoice!”

Take my life and let it be

Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;

Take my moments and my days,

Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

 

Take my hands and let them move

At the impulse of Thy love;

Take my feet and let them be

Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Lutheran Service Book, #783, vss. 1-2