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.
Church
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
Words of Comfort?
Question Submitted: I don’t know what to say to my friend who recently miscarried. It seems like what one person finds comforting, another person finds offensive.
I do not have the perfect answer to this question, nor do I know what words will fully comfort every woman who has ever endured such a crisis, but I can offer you a few practical suggestions:
1. Make sure her pastor knows what is going on, so that he can go to her and minister to her.
2. Pray for her.
3. Be there. Share in her loss as faithfully as you would in her joy. If she wants to be alone, respect her privacy and seek her out the next day. And the next. And the next.
4. Listen to her. Acknowledge her miscarriage (barrenness) for exactly what it is – a heinous, horrible reality – and be careful not to try to “explain it away.” Her grief and pain are too present to be put in a box. Let her freely lament, for lamentation has always been a part of the Christian life.
5. Tend to the immediate, physical needs of her family. Do they have food to eat? Do they need daycare? Does anyone need a ride to doctors’ appointments? Etc.
6. If given the opportunity to speak words of comfort to her, remember this: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” (Colossians 3:16) Speak the Word of God to her, remind her of God’s promises to her in Jesus, and sing words of hope and comfort. I personally find Psalms 6, 30, 40, 123, 130, and 138 comforting, and my husband often sings the following hymns to me in my grief: LSB 760 “What God Ordains Is Always Good,” LSB 754 “Entrust Your Days and Burdens,” and LSB 756 “Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me.”
(A note of warning: Whenever we are given the opportunity to say something to someone else who is suffering, most of us tend to say the thing that would most comfort ourselves. It is almost as if we can’t help but project our own sense of order onto another person’s chaos – and barrenness and miscarriage are definitely situations of chaos and crisis. I strongly advise you to carefully guard your friend from your own sense of order and let her faith, instead, respond to the Word of God. In other words, carefully guard your friend from yourself.)
7. And, finally, should you say something that angers her in her grief, apologize to her and let it go. Forgive yourself and forgive her, and keep coming back to her, seventy times seven times.
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
Your Pastor, Your Shepherd
Question Submitted: Is there a point at which women visiting this site will be directed back to their pastors?
Run, don’t walk! Run to your church, now! God has good gifts to give you in His Word and in His Supper, and He means for you to receive those good gifts from your pastor.
“In this life, God has called and ordained men to be pastors to stand before us in the stead of Christ. Please, go to your shepherd and let him take care of you. Confess to him your thoughts, your sufferings, your burdens, and your sins. Let him minister to you, speak God’s Word to you, absolve you, and pray for you. He is there to help shoulder your burdens, and he wants to do just that.
In the inevitable circumstance that your pastor disappoints you, please forgive him. Pray for him. Be patient with him. Listen to him. Speak to him in kindness and love. He is, after all, another man for whom Christ died, and he will learn from you what it is like to be a barren woman.” (He Remembers the Barren, Lutheran Legacy, 2011)
If this site ever ceases to be a giant arrow pointing you straight to your congregation and pastor, then abandon it at once. In the meantime, please pray for the hosts of this site that they might fulfill their vocations to love, serve, pray for, and share in the burden of their sisters in Christ who live life under the cross of barrenness.
Thank You, Church
I received all kinds of gifts yesterday:
- a card from my mother,
- multiple texts and emails from my sisters and friends to remind me that I am important in the lives of their children,
- precious concern from a goddaughter that I might not have enough love and attention left for her if I ever have any children of my own,
- hugs and kisses from church members,
- and tulips, a bike ride around White Rock Lake, a trip to Central Market, a game of Trivial Pursuit, and sushi from my husband.
One gift in particular, though – a Facebook message from a brother in Christ living in Virginia – brought me a comfort and peace that surpassed all understanding: “In our prayer of the church today, we included those women who are barren and cannot have children. I whispered your name during that petition.”
Those words still move me this morning. On Mother’s Day of all days, that secular holiday which perpetually tempts me to live the life of a hermit, someone remembered and prayed for me, Katie Schuermann, mother of none. More than that, the whole, entire Church remembered and prayed for me. I am not forgotten. The Church knows my cross and bears it with me before the altar of our Lord Jesus. What a gift!
Thank you, Ed. Thank you, Church.
