Thank you to Andy Bates of the Faith ‘n’ Family show on KFUO for interviewing Kristi, Pastor Schuermann, and me on the topic, “Infertility and God’s Will.” We discussed all kinds of things, including God’s gift of children, barrenness, adoption, and infertility medicine.
You can listen to the program here.
The enemy was swift, a stealth narthex ninja pervading the unsuspecting Sunday crowd. In silence, he tracked his foe below eye level like the invisible eleventh plague.
I heard a cry, the grievous moan of a fallen warrior, and I spun around on my black-sandaled heal to find my pastor wounded, crumpled on the gray tile floor in a pool of his own, thick blood.
His leg was missing.
“Noooo!” I howled, lurching for the scene, but the enemy was too quick, too skilled, too bent upon his prey. He raised his saber high and abruptly, mercilessly went for the kill.
I won’t soon forget the violent sight of my limbless pastor bleeding on the floor, nor the sound of the nearby churchy witnesses gasping and hiding their faces behind shaking hands.
But not all hope was lost.
The enemy, in his reckless drive towards victory, had committed one fatal mistake. He had paused in his final strike, and I, as a result, had caught a glimpse of his red-and-black weapon. It was not just any saber. It was a rolled up edition of The Lutheran Witness.
In that moment, I did what any self-respecting Lutheran woman would do. I reached for the shield of choice, the only one which could deflect the blows of such a force. I reached for the large-print edition of The Portals of Prayer and held on for dear life.
“Aaaaahhhhh!!!” The enemy cried, rushing towards me like a mad bull towards a quivering red cape, but I held strong.
“Fzzzzzzzzz,” the electric forcefield of my Portals of Prayer pulsed, deflecting blow after blow from my three-foot-high foe.
There is an end to this story, one which defies all laws of physics and copyright. The enemy’s parents soon intervened, corralling boyish violence towards the family van, and, according to the promises we the Baptized hold dear, the pastor did indeed miraculously resurrect in time for Sunday lunch.
The moral of this story?
Well, I can make no promises as to whether or not the Portals of Prayer always succeeds in overcoming The Lutheran Witness in force and power nor as to whether or not the size of the font matters in the end, but I can say this:
A childless pastor and his wife sure know how to have fun with Little Lutherans after church.
Physician’s Assistant: Now, why won’t you consider IVF?
Me: My husband and I have some ethical concerns about the procedure. Our consciences are burdened by the meager 29.4% success rate of implantation–
Physician’s Assistant: Oh, that’s not right. That’s too low, I think.
Me: No, that’s right. I just looked it up last week. The success rate can be higher or lower depending on the age and health of the mother, but – let’s be honest – I’m going on thirty-six. That rate is just about as optimistic as the scientists advise me to be.
Physician’s Assistant: True, you are of advanced maternal age.
Me: Well, creating babies and then attempting to implant them into my advanced maternal womb with a whopping 70.6% chance of dying doesn’t seem loving to the babies, does it?
(That question went unanswered.)
Whenever I walk into my kitchen, I am reminded of something extraordinary:
Though God in His wisdom has not blessed me with the gift of children of my own, there are children out there who love me and need my love in return.
I am reminded of this fact every time I reach for the refrigerator door, for there, pieced together like a quilt of tender affection, hang colorful pictures, drawings, letters, cards, handprints, and crayon art created by beloved nieces, nephews, godchildren, tiny friends, and church family who remember me in my barrenness.
Refrigerator love is a powerful forcefield which holds back the suffocating silence in a childless home.
So, if your children have a special auntie or uncle who struggles daily against the empty loneliness of barrenness, consider mailing some refrigerator love their way.
(And the kind of refrigerator love that goes behind the door – especially if it is of the chocolate variety – is also known to be effective.)
I must share a unique blessing I have.
I didn’t always have it. Years ago, I had to sit on the table in my OB/GYN’s office, tucking and re-tucking the thin sheets around myself while waiting for the doctor to arrive and avoiding the ads for contraceptives that plastered the walls.
I have a new doctor now. This doctor celebrates life, teaches his numerous children about the Creator of life, and has personally prayed for me in my suffering. And instead of drug marketing posters, this doctor displays in his office crucifixes, Scripture verses, and wall art like this:
Thank you, Amy, whoever you are. And thank you, Dr. G. You both provide so much encouragement to every woman who sees you.
“Where is the baby in your tummy?” asked the precocious, three-year-old boy.
“I don’t have one.”
“Why?” The boy stared incredulously at my belly, then turned to toss a questioning look at his own mother’s expanded, blessed abdomen. Something wasn’t measuring up. Literally.
“God has not blessed me with the gift of a child.”
“Oh.” The boy considered this bit of news for a moment. Then, having reached a satisfactory conclusion, he nodded his head. “Well, when He does, you will feed it with your bumps.”
Calling all LCMS pastors, seminarians, commissioned ministers, deaconesses, and parish nurses!
We certainly live in a “brave new world,” especially when it comes to infertility medicine.
In vitro fertilization, embryo adoption and assisted reproductive technologies…What is the Church to do? How can the Church steer congregations through the ethically murky waters of infertility medicine? What comfort can we as the Church offer to those who suffer from infertility and miscarriages?
LCMS Life Ministry and the Concordia Seminary Life Team are helping start the conversation by sponsoring an Infertility Ethics Symposium for pastors, seminarians, commissioned ministers, deaconesses, and parish nurses on Saturday, November 8, at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. Won’t you please join us?
Admittance is free.
Contact LCMS Life Ministry at 314-996-1711 or tracy.quaethem@lcms.org for more info as it becomes available.
Symposium Schedule:
8:30 a.m. – Opening Worship – Rev. William Weedon (Homily: Prof. John Pless)
9:00 a.m. – “Be Fruitful and Multiply: When It Doesn’t Work” – Rev. William Cwirla
10:00 a.m. – coffee break
10:30 a.m. – “Survey of Reproductive Counseling Practices in the Lutheran Church” – Rev. Dr. Kevin E. Voss
11:30 a.m. – “IVF: from Created to Creator” – Rev. Dr. James Lamb
12:30 p.m. – lunch
1:45 p.m. – “Embryo Adoption: Helping or Hurting My Neighbor?” – Rev. Dr. Robert W. Weise
2:45 p.m. – “Pastoral Care for Those Experiencing Infertility” – Rev. Christopher Esget
3:45 p.m. – break
4:00 p.m. – “The LCMS and Infertility Ethics” – Rev. Peter Brock
5:00 p.m. – Closing Worship – Rev. William Weedon (Homily: Dr. Jeff Gibbs)
5:30 p.m. – Gemütlichkeit
Heidi invited me to feast on the Word, specifically on this:
[T]he surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.
Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, “I believed, and so I spoke,” we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.
So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil (2 Corinthians 4:7-5:10 ESV).
Thank you, Heidi.
In my selfishness, I forget that my husband bears the cross of barrenness, too. I forget that my empty womb is a cross that he also shares.
Isaac also experienced the same cross. He and his wife Rebekah did not have any children. His father Abraham had been told that he would be the father of nations. Isaac knew that this meant his family would need to have descendants. Thus, Isaac took his concern to the Lord. As a loving spouse, he pleaded to God for his wife because they were barren.
19 This is the genealogy of Isaac, Abraham’s son. Abraham begot Isaac. 20 Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah as wife, the daughter of Bethuel the Syrian of Padan Aram, the sister of Laban the Syrian. 21 Now Isaac pleaded with the Lord for his wife, because she was barren; and the Lord granted his plea, and Rebekah his wife conceived.
God heard Jacob’s prayer. Only by His grace and mercy, God granted twins to Rebekah and Jacob.
May we be so bold as to always take our concerns to our Father in heaven. May we also thank God for our spouses, who share the cross of barrenness with us.
Miscarriage is a cruel betrayal of the body.
It’s a double-crossing rat.
It turns safe houses into torture chambers, mothers into hearses, wombs into tombs.
There is no earthly swindle so low as when that which is designed to keep and shield and warm and nurture turns on the most vulnerable of our loves.
There is no hour so long as when a mother watches her own flesh fail her own child.
There is no wail so loud.
No groan so deep.
No despair so close.
As that of a childless mother.
Except for one.
There is the wail from the cross. There is the groan and despair of our LORD as He took our wretched failings and miscarriages upon Himself and endured the ultimate horror, separation from the Father, so that we might never have to.
You see, He died to save us from the worst. He wailed and groaned and despaired and died that we might never be alone in our grief, that we might never have to live apart from Him, that we might have hope even in the face of death.
And He freely offers up his own crucified, risen flesh for us today in the bread and in the wine that we might be kept and shielded and warmed and nurtured in Him unto eternal life.
Go, mother. Go to the altar in your grief and be nurtured by Him who understands.
“My song is love unknown,
My Savior’s love to me,
Love to the loveless shown
That they might lovely be.
Oh, who am I
That for my sake
My Lord should take Frail flesh and die?” (LSB 430: 1)
He Remembers the Barren 