Grief

The Great Getaway

Okay.

I know that many of you won’t come out for presentations on barrenness that are open to the public, because you don’t want other people to see you cry.

But what if those other people were just like you? What if you could get away for a few days and retreat to a safe place with other barren women* for a time of rest, refreshment, and fellowship in Christ?

We are thinking about hosting a retreat called “The Great Getaway” for you, but, before we do, we want to make sure you actually want to come. Are you interested? If so, send us a quick message through the Submit a Question page and let us know your name, email address, location, and whether or not you would be able to travel somewhere in the Midwest.

It’s time to come out of hiding, don’t you think?

* Maybe you suffer from barrenness or secondary infertility. Maybe you are struggling through the grief of a recent miscarriage. Maybe you are wrestling with the legal paperwork of an adoption or silently waiting for your foster child to bond with your family. Maybe you have lost your husband and wonder if you will ever have the chance to be a mother. If any of these situations apply to you (and you are a woman), then you are invited.

We Must Wait

From yesterday’s reading in the Treasury of Daily Prayer:

Christ is risen from the dead, has ascended to heaven, and sits at the right of God in divine power and honor. Nevertheless, He is hiding His greatness, glory, majesty, and power. He allows His prophets and apostles to be expelled and murdered…He allows His Christians to suffer want, trouble, and misfortune in the world. He acts as He did in the days of His flesh, when John the Baptist had to lose his head for the sake of a desperate harlot, while He, the Savior and Helper, said nothing about it, departed thence in a ship and withdrew to the solitude of the wilderness (Matt. 14:10ff, Mark 6:17, 32). Is He not a petty, childish God, who does not save Himself and allows His children to suffer as if He did not see how badly they were faring?…[I]f He sees and knows but cannot help, then He has no hands that are able to do anything, nor does He have power to enable Him to save.

Hence the prophet Isaiah correctly says of God: “Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself, O God of Israel, the Savior” (45:15)…Now He lets our adversaries treat His Word, Sacraments, and Christians as they please. He lets us call and cry and says nothing, as though He were deep in thought or were busy or were out in the field or asleep and heard nothing as Elijah says of Baal (I Kings 18:27)…

Meanwhile Christians, baptized in His name, must hold still, must permit people to walk over them and must have patience. For in the Kingdom of faith God wants to be small, but in the (future) kingdom of sight He will not be small but great. Then He will show that He saw the misery of His people and heard their crying and had a will inclined to help them, also power to help them…For this appearance of the glory of the great God we must wait.

Martin Luther

Family Grief

Sometimes I forget that my barrenness affects more than just me and my husband.

My nephew stood at my elbow in Chick Fil-A last week, holding out a Berenstain Bears book that had come with his meal deal.

“In case you have a child someday,” he said.

There was a momentary, esophageal struggle between the bite I was trying to swallow and the wave of emotion that suddenly rushed up my throat.

“Thank you, B,” I managed, trying to play it cool. My nephew could have no idea that he had just shined a bright beam of sunlight across my insides. This book was more than just a gift. It was hope. “Do you think Uncle Michael and I will have a child someday?”

“Uh, huh.”

“A boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

“Will you mind that he will be so much younger than you?”

“Na, I’ll let him ride on my back.” B smiled, and I suddenly realized that this dreamchild lives in more than just my own heart. My nephew, too, yearns for a boy cousin, a playmate, and a friend. “He’ll probably follow me around the yard. I’ll teach him to wrestle.”

You know, I think he probably will.

 

Misery

From our dear Joanna

Today I had a lovely conversation with one of our church’s homebound members. This dear lady in her late eighties is widowed and mostly homebound due to severe chronic pain. Despite the suffering she endures each day, she is one of the most joyful and encouraging Christians I’ve ever met. As we got off the phone, I told how much I admire her and the beautiful, grace-filled woman that God has made her to be. It was then that she said something profound, something that I think is key to getting through the difficult days that all of us encounter: “Misery,” she said “is optional.”

As a barren women who’s now past the age of childbearing, I can tell you that this is true — misery is indeed optional. God’s mercy and goodness have been present every day of my life, but there were days when I opted for misery — opted to wallow, opted to feel sorry for myself, opted to push the limits of legitimate grief past its boundaries to the place of selfishness and self-pity. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, I wanted others to feel sorry for me, and most of all, I wanted God to feel sorry for me. In the end, the only person I made miserable was myself. 

I think that as I go through my days, I will remember what my dear friend told me. Grief and pain are legitimate, but misery is optional. I opt for Christ’s joy and His peace that passes all understanding. 

 

 

True Compassion

My husband drew my attention to an article in the most recent issue of Gottesdienst. Think on Rev. David Petersen’s words:

Compassion leads to action, but is not action. It is identification and suffering with the afflicted. The old saw “misery loves company” usually means we like to bring others down with us, but we might turn it around a bit. We might see the example of our Lord and recognize that compassion loves by joining misery. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15 ESV).

Compassion moves the compassionate to action eventually. That action is often material aid, practical assistance, or comfort to relieve the afflicted, or the proclamation of Law and then forgiveness and hope in Christ. But even before the action there is the sympathy and identification. Sometimes, maybe most times, those who are hurting need to hear and know that their hurt is valid and is also unjust. Strangely, it is comforting to know that our mental anguish, our sense of frustration, and our anger are legitimate reactions to a sinful and unjust world…

The first response to suffering isn’t a solution or a fix, but pain. This pain carries with it the realization that nothing afflicts any of us that is not common to man or that our Lord Himself did not endure in the greatest and most terrible measure. This is different from gratitude. It recognizes that it could have been us, such as we hear in the oft-used John Bradford line: “There but for the grace of God go I.” That is part of it, to be sure. But compassion is suffering that is felt in the heart and mind because someone else is suffering and shouldn’t be. They are like sheep without a shepherd. That sad plight moves the heart of the observer first to pity; then comes gratitude and action.*

* Petersen, David H.  (Trinity 2012, Vol. 20, No. 1). “Praying for Pity’s Sake.” Gottesdienst: The Journal of the Lutheran Liturgy, 9-10.

Baby or No Baby

You’re okay. Really, you are. Baby or no baby.

(Yes, I’m talking to you.)

In fact, in Christ you are more than okay. You are victorious. You are made new. You are eternal. You are beloved. In Christ, you are fruitful with or without a genetic reproduction of yourself.

So, cast all of that stress and anxiety about having a baby on Him who gives you life, saves your life, and sustains your life. Put a towel over your mirror and give your reflection a break. (No peeking!) Let’s not gaze at our navels today. Instead, let’s rest beside still waters in those luscious, green pastures to which the Good Shepherd has led us.

He who restores your soul will tend to all of your needs and disappointments and sorrows and joys, right now and forevermore, baby or no baby.

I promise.

Why I Love Katie’s Book

How is it possible that Harriet Beecher Stowe never met Katie Schuermann? Perhaps Harriet was given the gift of prophesy…

“There are in this world blessed souls, whose sorrows all spring up into joys for others; whose earthly hopes, laid in the grave with many tears, are the seed from which spring healing flowers and balm for the desolate and the distressed.”

-From Uncle Tom’s Cabin, pg.99

So You Wanna Complain?

There’s a psalm for that. Yes, you can complain to God about your situation. This world is full of injustices, and barrenness is one of them. God is fully aware of our childless home; He knows the desires of our hearts. Thus, He invites us to bring our sorrows and hurts to Him. When we complain to God, we give evidence to our faith, that we know God is gracious and merciful to hear us and has the power to help us.

Even more, God tells us HOW to complain. There are psalms of lament in the book of Psalms. These psalms show us that it is good and right to complain to our heavenly Father. The very words to use in our complaints are given to us by God Himself.

So what’s in a psalm of lament?  1) a complaint to God about what has gone wrong and God’s failure to help  2) a plea to God for help  3) a confession of faith in God’s goodness  4) a promise of praise for God’s help

Psalm 13 demonstrates all four of these components.

Psalm 13

1 How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?

2 How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,

4 lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

5 But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

A psalm of lament gives voice to our sorrows and shows us how to complain. When our lives don’t go as planned, we hurt. It seems as if God has abandoned us, and that makes us angry. This is where Satan enters. He seeks to skew our vision and desires to turn us away from God. Instead, we run with those hurts and angers to Jesus. We unload it on Him, for He alone can take our anger and heal our hurts. Thus, God uses our anger to teach us to rely on Him for all of our needs, both of body and soul.

Share your feelings of sorrow, hurt, and anger with your pastor. Go to him; he is God’s man for you in your time of need. Your pastor will help you complain to God (He can give you a whole list of lament psalms) and will also comfort you with words of God’s grace and mercy.

So go ahead and complain. God wants to hear from you. In fact, He has given you the best words to use – His own.

Suffering

God Himself causes our suffering.  He is not the cause of sin, mind you, but He is the cause of our suffering.  [p.32]  Those are the words of Dr. Gregory Schulz  in his book The Problem of Suffering: A Father’s Hope.

As I read Dr. Schulz’s book, I began to think he had a window to my heart.  As he shared the struggles of pain and suffering surrounding the death of two of his children, he asked why these things could happen.  I asked that same question surrounding my barrenness.  He wrote based on his experiences as a father and a husband.  He asked why suffering happens.  He questioned suffering in the world.  I asked those very same things.  Dr. Schulz pointed me to Jesus, the only relief from suffering.

We experience death, pain, sorrow, and grief. How can suffering come from God?  Suffering is real.  Suffering hurts.  Suffering drives us to our knees.  Suffering demonstrates to us that we are mortal.  We cannot cure every disease.  We cannot prevent death.  We cannot administer the drug that takes away aches and pains.

No, our only relief lies in Jesus Christ.  He took all of our sin sicknesses and sufferings and ingested them into Himself on the cross – for us.  We are made holy in our baptisms.  Once baptized, though, we are signed up for a lifetime of suffering.

There is great temptation to say that our suffering will come to a fairy-tale ending in this world.  On the contrary, in this world we will have pain and sorrow.  It would be foolish to insist that our suffering is going to have a glorious finish.  This is a sinful world, and while we dwell in it, we will not be safe from sin.  When the body and soul of the believer in Christ are united with Jesus, THEN all suffering will end.  This is why we pray in the Lord’s Prayer, “But deliver us from evil.”  True relief is peace in Christ.

In this world, we will experience disappointment, heartache, death, miscarriage, and so much more.  Take heart, dear sisters and brothers in Christ, you are not alone.  Dr. Schulz writes: “…even the Gospel doesn’t give us absolute rest as long as we are away from home in this vale of tears.  It can and does bring us the Good News of Jesus, the rest for our souls, but we still experience anger and anxiety.” [p.124]  He continues: “My joy is not complete.  It cannot be, until God grants us all a blessed reunion in heaven.” [p.125]  God does not abandon you.  He loves you, and He understands your suffering.

I commend this book to you.  Grieve with Dr. Schulz.  Live under the cross of Jesus until He takes you to Himself, where all suffering ends.