Church

Mother’s Day: A Pastoral Plea

This Sunday is Mother’s Day. For the barren woman, attending church on this particular Sunday is often an exercise in frustration, woe, even great shame brought on by the absence of longed-for children. Far too often, we pastors help amplify these feelings in her.

This is a pastoral plea. Brothers, I beg you, remember every Sunday your entire flock. But especially this Sunday, remember all the faithful women who Christ has entrusted to your care.

Remember that a part of your flock have received from the Lord the blessed vocation of motherhood, whether their children are biological or adopted. In the prayers of the church rejoice with them, give thanks to God for them, and ask God to help them faithfully raise up these gifts from Him.

But remember, too, that many in your flock – whom you may or may not be aware of – have not received the gift of children from God. And they may be longing for that gift. Please be sensitive to them. Recall that the natural inclination of sinful man towards a theology of glory has resulted in them receiving countless, “helpful” comments and encouragements that are nothing but empty promises and legalistic claptrap. Pray for these women, too, that they would receive what they long for: the gift of a child, biological or adopted. But also do not fail to pray on their behalf that God would give them the faith and trust to contentedly rejoice in what He ultimately does give to them. It may not be a child. In other words, help them to pray, “Nevertheless, Lord, Thy will be done.”

And also remember the sheep of Christ’s flock who are past the time of having any expectation of receiving the gift of a child. Please don’t leave them out. Pray for them, too, that they would recognize in their lives all the good gifts the Lord has given to them.

Please don’t parade them in front of the congregation in order to offer up prayers on their behalf. Please don’t draw unneeded attention to them by giving flowers or some other admittedly well-intentioned gift only to those in the congregation who have children. Allow the barren to sit and grieve, to receive from their Lord, and to pray along with you. That’s your God-given task in the Divine Service, anyway: to lead them in prayer and to care for them with Christ’s true, comforting Word and Sacrament.

In fact, my encouragement would be, if at all possible, to limit your Mother’s Day references in the service to the prayers. Keep your whole flock focused on Jesus and His forgiveness present there for them today. But in the prayers do indeed pray, praise, and give thanks for the mothers, mothers-to-be, and all those who desire motherhood but have not or will not receive that gift from God.

I think these words, included in this year’s “Let Us Pray” for Easter 7 from the LC-MS, fit the bill nicely:

“Father of glory, Your Son, our Lord Jesus, in His incarnation, took on our created human flesh and was born of the Virgin Mary. He submitted to His mother, honoring and obeying her, so fulfilling the commandment where we have not. On this Mothers’ Day, graciously accept our thanksgiving for our mothers, whom you have given to us. Teach us to honor them aright — loving, obeying and giving thanks for them, as is fitting in Your sight. Strengthen all women with child and protect them in their deliverance. Comfort all women who long to have children, but cannot, that they may find their consolation in You and Your unfailing love. Lord, in Your mercy, hear our prayer.”

Rev. Michael P. Schuermann

True Help

I know there is a woman in your church who watches you like a mother hen. I know she gets her feathers ruffled every time she sees you talk to a child or openly admire someone’s baby or quietly tear up at a baptism. I know she corners you in the narthex before the service and coos and clucks about this chick-producing fertility treatment and that miracle doctor. I know she pecks at your nerves with stories of distant cousins who get pregnant at 43 and petty assurances that you will, too.

I also know she cares for you.

So, don’t be a chicken. Take a risk and be vulnerable. Say the hard words.

“I can tell that you care for me and that you want to help me. Do you know what would really help? Pray for me and help me be content with the person God has made me today. Even if that means I am barren.”

You never know. With a little, loving guidance, this mother hen might end up becoming your fiercest ally in the coop.

Upcoming Pastors’ Roundtables

Dear Pastors,

We could use your help formulating theological responses to ethical points of contention surrounding IVF and embryonic adoption. Would you please join us for a roundtable discussion of these issues and their effects on all of us in the church?

When: Saturday, May 18th, 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Where: Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Davenport, IA

When: Thursday, May 23rd, 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Where: Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Sherman, IL

When: Thursday, June 6th, 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Where: Village Lutheran Church, St. Louis (Ladue), MO

Please RSVP through the Submit a Question page on this website if you plan to attend, or, if you would like to host a pastors’ roundtable discussion of these issues at your own church, please contact us.

Thank you for your help!

The HRTB Ladies

Discrimination

We discriminate, even in our suffering.

Many church women’s organizations have said to me in response to an invitation to attend a talk on barrenness, “Oh, we don’t want to hear a talk on barrenness. We’ve already had our children. That issue doesn’t affect us.”

And my heart breaks.

Not just because these women are turning a blind eye to the women in their own groups who have never had children (and to those whose children or nieces or sisters or aunts or friends have not had children), but because they would never say to a sister in Christ, “Oh, we don’t want to hear a talk on cancer. We don’t have it. That issue doesn’t affect us.”

Because, deep down inside, they know it does. Whether they personally have cancer or not, they know cancer affects someone who sits in their pew.

The same is true of all suffering. When one member of the body suffers, the whole body is affected. When the little toe is stubbed against an oak dining room chair, the face flinches, the eyes close, the fists clench, the stomach churns, the knees bend, and the larynx howls, all because a tiny member of the body is in pain.

That is, unless we remove that tiny member from the body and pretend she doesn’t exist.

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

+ 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. +

P1020215

Shepherds Who Point Us to the Lamb

There is no better time to talk about suffering than Good Friday, and our church body is blessed to have so many learned, compassionate, and insightful shepherds who know that the life of the Christian is one of taking up our crosses and following Christ, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. Take some time this weekend to watch, listen, and read the following as we focus on the suffering and death of our Lord:

Rev. Bryan Wolfmueller’s comments on Issues, Etc. about Sanctification and Suffering

Synodical President Rev. Dr. Matthew Harrison’s video, “Suffering is Purposeful through Repentance”

and Rev. Dr. Gifford Grobien’s comments specifically to you, the barren:

When couples experience barrenness, with Job we should want to worship God and to say, “The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21). But in the midst of the devil’s temptations such faithful action and confession seem out of reach. We are distraught. There really isn’t any reason we can hear that will ease the questioning and the sadness. Once again, suffering has overshadowed the way things ought to be. Suffering overtakes even the faithful person. The cross looms and gives no reason.

Instead, the cross calls the church faithfully to follow. Faithfully. That is, even without seeing. Even without perceiving or understanding. The cross beckons us to see suffering and to see deliverance through suffering. It does not explain suffering; but it promises deliverance from suffering. More than this, the cross of Jesus Christ promises deliverance through suffering to fellowship with the one who suffered ultimately. The church is a fellowship of suffering; a fellowship with the passionate One; a fellowship with God of the universe who nevertheless stooped to suffer not just with you, but for you.

Suffering, by its very nature, takes time. We, on the one hand, desire immediate results. We have our food through the drive-through, our information at the touch of a screen, our friends at the click of a mouse. Even our sins are forgiven in a moment, at the Word of absolution. That much is true. Yet suffering connotes experience. It implies time. Deliverance comes after a time of suffering, and this time is not in vain. During this time we are sanctified. We grow in the love of God through the Spirit of God. We are sustained by this same Spirit through God’s indomitable gifts, so that no temptation overtakes us that is beyond our ability. God is faithful, and with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape.

Escape. Deliverance. God provides the way of deliverance from suffering. He conforms us to the cross so that we would die and live in Christ. God delivers from infertility. It takes time. It may take a lifetime. But there is deliverance in the cross.

One of the ways to endure suffering as we await deliverance is to hear God’s Word and to pray. When we pray the Psalms we do both. God knows what it is to suffer, for He gives us psalms to pray even in suffering–psalms of lament. Thus we pray the psalms of lament. Psalm 13: “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?” Psalm 59: “For the cursing and lies that [my enemies] utter, consume them in wrath; consume them till they are no more, that they may know that God rules.”

Pray these psalms, knowing that the enemy spoken of is the devil, the tempter overcome by suffering. He is overcome by Christ’s suffering, indeed, but it is true that Satan is overcome in his work in our lives when we persevere through suffering. When we are afflicted, the root temptation is to curse God and turn away in unbelief. God is all powerful, so our affliction must be his fault! That is the temptation of Satan. That is the theology of glory. So, when we persevere in faith, in spite of affliction, the work of the devil in our particular circumstances is also overcome through the power of the Spirit in the Word.

nosh on this

The eyes of all look to you,
and you give them their food in due season.
You open your hand;
you satisfy the desire of every living thing. Psalm 145:15-16

Food serves manifold purposes, doesn’t it? As a health enthusiast I often ponder the efficacy (or lack thereof) of the food we eat. As common sense would have it, this is what I’ve come up with: Real food nourishes, sustains, it delights us and brings people, most especially our families, together.

Awhile back, host Kristi Leckband wrote a beautiful post found here. In a nutshell, she recounts how her family dynamics around the dinner table were more sullen and silent at times of sorrow over dashed adoption efforts. And now, the dinner conversation jags lively and joyful as they delight in their new daughter adopted from China.

From this post I began to think about the dinner table. It’s compelling how gathering around it with family in either joy and sorrow is so necessary. It strengthens us in that unit. While the food is often the impetus for the gathering, the dinner table can be the weigh station where rest, conversational refreshment and, perhaps, just silent presence is needed.

This certainly has spiritual implications within our church families, too. What about that first Maundy Thursday? Jesus and his disciples are gathered in the upper room. This was one of many occasions in which they’d dined together. While the bible doesn’t say, I’m not so sure laughter, unless it was nervous or out of ignorance, set the tone that particular night. No. That night was focused on just being in each other’s presence and with their Master. In fact, Jesus is doing most of the talking and doing. In spite of the feelings and thoughts around the room about the impending event, food is the one of the reasons they gather. But Jesus is nourishing his disciples on a new spiritual plane; uniting them to Him through bread and wine, reminding them they are forgiven through what He is about to do on the cross.

This must have been a terrifying “church family night.” But they were reminded of who they were in relation to Christ and each other. They gathered around that table to receive food, physical and spiritual, to nourish, sustain and bring them together.

Think back to your childhoods. Hopefully yours are filled with comforting and joyous memories. Did our families turn us away from the table if we had a heavy or anxious heart? Did they require us to have a contrived zeal to be there? No. Simply being born or adopted into our families granted us a seat. Sure, we might have had to munch on pureed veggies, small and soft foods until our bellies could digest the more solid stuff on the table. We also (for the most part) learned manners there, too. This private order of service is all part of what it means to grow into our families.

So too, our Lord’s Table does not turn away heavy hearts or require pietistic zeal. Simply being God’s child grants us a seat. Yes, there may be a time in which the Word and baptism are the primary sustenances until a proper examination of communion is confessed. But this is all part of the gifts of learning what it means to grow in God’s church. Jesus knew the right time to teach and administer this holy meal to his disciples, just as we with our pastors are examined in order that we may come to the Lord’s table to receive Christ’s body and blood at the right time, too.

Food conjures up so many thoughts in our minds …the things we crave, what makes us feel good and how we share it with others. How interesting that God uses food and is the food for the strengthening of our faith. This faith craves and confesses Christ crucified for our sins. It desires to be united to Him and to share it with others. And with the substances we see before us: a pastor, the Word, bread and wine, Jesus is the Host, Servant and Meal of this fine dining reality. Blessed Maundy Thursday as we remember our Lord’s death until He comes.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! Psalm 34:8

It Should Have Been Me

“Did you hear? Alyssa is pregnant!”

“Guess what. My neighbor is expecting twins!”

“Has anybody told you? The Greenbergs are adopting!”

I’m certain we have all been privy to such conversations. In those moments, I have done my best to show genuine excitement for the couple. However, I am falling apart on the inside. That good news should be mine. I should be buying maternity clothing. I should be shopping for a double-stroller. I’ve been eating well, exercising faithfully, attending church on a regular basis. We submitted all of our paperwork to the adoption agency. Birthmothers should be choosing my spouse and me to adopt her child.

If left up to us, our wishes would be fulfilled. The pregnancy test would be positive. The twins would have matching cribs. The adoption process would be smooth as silk. It should be me! I should be the one shouting out such good news. But, no, I’m on the receiving end of good baby news once again.

There’s something else that should have happened to me. I should have been the one who was scourged, spit upon, mocked, pierced, and crucified. Yes, I’m the sinner who has broken every single one of the Ten Commandments. It really should be me who’s dead. I really don’t deserve any of the goodness that has been bestowed upon me, for I am a conceited, selfish sinner, who deserves death.

Thanks be to God that He gave His Son to take that punishment for me. Jesus Christ endured the scorn, the pain, and even the death you and I deserved. During this Holy Week, I humbly bow before the Lord God and thank Him for taking away the death that should have been mine.

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!

He Remembers the Barren

God remembers you in Jesus