Marriage

Is procreation an intrinsic quality of marriage?

Question Submitted: At a recent theological symposium, I posited that we in the Church need “to return to teaching properly about the positive locus of marriage – teaching about its procreative purpose and nature.” Another attendee replied in part that “procreation is NOT an intrinsic quality of marriage, as we do not say the infertile are not married.” If I had had a chance for rebuttal, I would have pointed out the error of his logic. Bipedalism is an intrinsic quality of humans, despite the sad reality of paraplegia. It would be very helpful to hear how you would counter the idea that infertility invalidates the argument that procreation is an intrinsic quality of marriage. I have my own answers to this false argument, but I would like to make sure I have an answer that is sensitive to the minds of those who suffer from infertility.

My pastors taught me that God institutes and defines marriage in Genesis Chapters 1 and 2. We learn in verses 1:27-28 that God created man in His own image; male and female He created them, and He blessed them. He told them to be fruitful and multiply, and God saw that “it was very good” (Gen 1:31).

The gift of procreation is not only a blessing God speaks over marriage, but God sees the blessing of children as good.

Barrenness is not good. Barrenness is a brokenness of God’s good creation. Endometriosis, PCOS, fibroids, hashimoto’s thyroiditis, low sperm motility, ovarian and cervical cancers, miscarriages, childlessness, and the groaning of all creation came about as a result of man’s fall into Sin; and we don’t use the effects of Sin to redefine that which God institutes and calls “good” in His Word, nor do we use the effects of Sin to defend the notion that procreation is somehow not a part of God’s intrinsic design of marriage. That is my biggest qualm with the other attendee’s rhetoric. His thesis does not fully confess barrenness as a post-Fall reality. Barrenness proves nothing about God’s procreative intent for marriage other than that God, post-Fall, allows the cross of barrenness to burden the shoulders of some married couples.

In regards to being sensitive to the barren, we should be careful not to turn God’s good, fruitful blessing for marriage into man’s good work. Scripture tells us that having children is not a law of God for us to keep but a heritage from Him for us to receive (Psalm 127:3). None of us would have children apart from God’s merciful blessing and giving. Only God in His wisdom knows why He does not open the wombs of the barren, and we should not burden the consciences of those who are unable to have children by suggesting they should be able to outwit the very Author of Life.

And as for using the existence of barrenness as an excuse to avoid the gift of children in marriage, I can think of no place in Scripture where God calls that good.

A Good Reminder

I watched as my husband read his Father’s Day card. Silent tears of grief slid down his cheeks.

“I am sorry I have not given you any children,” I whispered. My own tears dripped down my chin.

My husband cocked his head to the side, slightly surprised. He smiled sweetly, knowingly at me.

“It is the Lord who gives children,” he said.

Oh, yes. That’s right.

Even I need a good reminder now and then.

Hormone Therapy?

Question Submitted: I was wondering if you know where I might find good information about the ethics of the medicinal use of hormonal therapies for a married woman. It looks like I will probably be having to wade into some murky waters here soon. Tomorrow, I’m going to make an appointment with my OB. I saw her nurse practitioner a week ago, and she was thinking I need either three months of birth control or 10 days of progesterone, but we decided to see if time would help. Well, after nearly doubling over with cramps in the middle of the church service on Sunday because of my 4th menses in 2 months, I think we need to do SOMETHING. I trust my doctor for the medical info, but I don’t think she will be able to help with the ethics. My husband and I would like to be as well informed as we can be before making any decisions, but, to be honest, other than doing a little research that led us to avoiding hormones for birth control, we don’t even know were to start. I was hoping you could point us in a general direction. Thank you so much.

I am so sorry to hear you are in such physical pain. That is awful. I had similar pain episodes a couple years ago. They were excruciating, debilitating, and socially embarrassing.

I do not know of any particular published resources which I 100% recommend on this topic. At this point, I suggest you ask your OB-gyn some very frank questions, listen to her answers, talk to your husband/pastor/father confessor, research all you can about your doctor’s suggested treatment plans on the internet (Lutherans for Life and LCMS Life and Health Ministries may be helpful resources with this), and then make decisions according to your conscience. Remember, you do not have to make a decision in the doctor’s office. You can go home, take your time researching and discussing your options, and come back at a later time with your decision.

If it helps, at the request of my own OB-gyn, I took the pill for a few months a year-and-a-half ago to help her diagnose what kind of masses were growing in my abdomen. Since some types of masses are known to be hormone responsive, my undergoing hormone therapy helped my doctor diagnose (without immediately, surgically opening me up) whether or not those masses were cancer, regular cysts, fibroids, or endometriomas. The results of the hormone therapy helped my doctor better treat me and, in the end, prepare for surgery.

I will admit that in order not to burden our own consciences, my husband and I abstained during that time.

I also bartered with my doctor. I acknowledged her need for me to take the pill for diagnostic purposes, but I also explained that I was only willing to take it for a limited season of time. She understood from the beginning that the pill was never going to be an acceptable, longterm treatment option for me. I think that information helped her make alternative treatment decisions for me before, during, and after my surgery. My surgery was successful, though my doctor had to leave some offensive tissue in my body so as not to destroy some of my organs. In an effort to get rid of that tissue, I then took Lupron Depot shots for six months in order to starve the tissue of my own hormones and, hopefully, kill it.

I am neither advocating nor discouraging you from taking hormone therapy for the purposes of healing medicine. I never thought I ever would, but, when the time came, the risks of vascular bleeding in undergoing immediate surgery and the risks of an ovarian torsion in doing nothing outweighed the longterm health risks of hormone therapy for me. My doctor was also reticent to perform a hysterectomy at the time unless she absolutely had to, as the consequences of depleting my body of its natural hormones in my early thirties also had longterm risks. Every woman is different, every diagnosis is different, and every treatment plan is different. Just be sure to ask your doctor detailed questions about the entire effects of any therapy which you engage. Let her know that you have religious concerns that could burden your conscience if you engage in any therapy which might potentially serve as contraception or an abortifacient. Whether your doctor agrees with you or not, she is a professional who wants the best for you and your health and most likely will respect your request with honest, forthright answers. She does not have to agree with you to be a good physician.

At this point, I do not plan on engaging in any more hormone therapy for long-term health reasons. My husband and I agreed to undergo such therapy once in an attempt to rectify the immediately dangerous situation. If I continue to have problems post-surgery, my husband and I are seriously considering alternative options, even a hysterectomy, for hormone therapy does have its own longterm consequences on the female body.

These are such hard decisions. I am sorry that they are also undefined and ethically murky in so many ways. I am serious about asking your doctor the hard questions. Listen to her, talk to your husband, make a decision you can live with, and trust in Christ always.

What You’ve Always Wondered But Were Afraid to Ask

WARNING: The following post contains information of a “delicate” nature. We hate to be considered an explicit blog, but sometimes you have to talk about the topics that no one else will. Many thanks to our guest responder, Rev. Dr. Gifford Grobien, assistant professor of systematic theology at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Ind., for being willing to address such a sensitive topic from a pastoral perspective.

Question submitted: My doctor says that in order to find out the cause of our infertility, my husband should really be tested as well. I guess this requires that he submit a sample of sperm. To my knowledge, this is typically collected outside of intercourse. Although I have heard that there are special prophylactics that could be used to collect it during intercourse but I have no idea where one would obtain these. I know of several other couples where the husband has been tested, but now that we’re in this situation and I have to think about how this is really done, I’m wondering if it’s really OK to do. I know that our end goal is good, and that we’re just trying to give the doctor as much information as he can so he can help us, but something just doesn’t feel right about what he has to do in order to get this sample. Any advice?

This is one of those questions that is extremely difficult both emotionally and morally. Emotionally, certainly, because of the good desire of the husband and wife for children. When this good desire is not fulfilled, a couple may feel shame, guilt, inadequacy or other difficult emotions. They may wonder what they have done wrong that they are unable to have children; if they pray long enough that God will end their infertility. Or they may develop hollow, cynical or withdrawn perspectives, with few or no companions to console and be with them.

The question is also difficult morally. It is easy to look at the goal of taking a sperm sample as being good–to try to have a child; to try to be fruitful. But goals are never isolated from action. The ends in themselves don’t justify the means because the means are not merely instrumental. Action is not merely instrumental. Action engages mind and body. Action commits a subject to a certain way of being, even if just for the moment of the action. Action familiarizes a mind and body with the action, so that the action becomes more familiar and easier. Action, even just once, is habit-forming. This is why we always learn through practice, even a one-time run-through. Reading something even once before presenting it publicly establishes comfort and familiarity. Taking a practice test does the same. Swinging the bat or shooting the basketball or walking through the steps of a recipe with the ingredients in front of you focus your mind and clarify the context. Action is inherently habit-forming.

So, should we encourage the act of masturbation, even if just once? Is masturbation as an act value-neutral? What about using a condom in marital intercourse? Is this better? Any kind of sexual climax outside of uncontracepted marital intercourse inherently separates the pleasure of the act from the sexual union of a husband and wife. Sexual intercourse means the use of the sexual organs, which is to ejaculate for the purpose of procreation. This is the basic meaning and purpose of sexuality and sexual organs. Sexual pleasure that is divorced from truly sexual (procreative-seeking) union separates two parts of an act that in creation were intended to remain together. Separating pleasure from marital, sexual union introduces a tolerance, an acceptability, a familiarity, a level of comfort with non-procreative sexual stimulation, whether with contraception, or as masturbation or sodomy.

In marital sexual relations the exciting and mysterious integrity of pleasure and procreation remain intact. With each union there is the pleasure combined with the joyous wonder and hope that this might bring forth a new creation. Even those who are scientifically sterile cannot deny that God may choose–in this act–to give life. Even those who are past childbearing age, by maintaining the physical integrity of the act, confess faithfulness to God’s design. They do not denigrate the act by turning it into mere pleasure, but they uphold that in this particular way of giving pleasure to each other, they conform to God’s design for bringing forth a new life, for deepening their own love beyond themselves, to embracing the love of children. They also bring to remembrance for themselves the joyous hope of years past, and excite in themselves an analogous kind of hope–perhaps not for themselves at that moment, but in thanksgiving for what God has given them, or in the joyous hope of life that God brings forth in others. Most basically, the act still submits to the created way of being.

How much more, then, for those who are of childbearing age, whether seemingly sterile or fruitful. The physical excitement and pleasure of sexual climax, because of its intensity, when separated from the possibility of procreation, is selfish. Physical pleasure is not wrong, of course, but God purposely brings it about in an act that is inherently selfless–the expectation of a third person and the expansion of love for that person. When the divinely designed integrity between pleasure and procreation is broken by human action, the outward-oriented aspect of the act is lost, so that only the inward-oriented aspect remains.

Is there no option for testing sperm of an infertile couple? Yes, if there is a way to do it without breaking the integrity of marital sexual relations. There is this possibility: either percutaneous epididymal sperm aspiration (PESA), or microsurgical epididymal sperm aspiration (MESA). The former uses a needle to collect sperm, while the latter is a minor surgical procedure to collect sperm. It appears that medical providers do not typically think of using these procedures unless a man’s vas deferens is blocked or deficient in some way. It’s also possible that health insurance would not cover them if there is no problem with the vas deferens. Nevertheless, it may be an option for those persistent in requesting it and who meet other medical criteria.

Rev. Dr. Gifford Grobien

A Season to Share

Rachel Pollock reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that we all endure suffering and enjoy blessings throughout the year, and we in the body of Christ can be there to share in all of them.

I had to update addresses before I could send Christmas cards this year. There were joyous updates. I added names of friends that got married, had babies, or finalized adoptions. It seemed there were more sad updates. Some of the names I had to remove because:

they had divorced or died. The worst was when an entire entry had to be removed because both spouses had died.
a father had committed suicide, and this affects his wife/children/grandchildren daily.
a child had lost the battle with leukemia.
A spouse had died when he seemed way too young to die.
they have dementia, and a letter would confuse them.

When I wrote the addresses on the envelopes I reflected on some of the suffering:

those who are single and would like to be married.
many couples that are barren or have not been blessed with a sibling for their only child.
many families that have experienced a miscarriage.
those who the doctor recommends no more pregnancies for the mother’s health.
those families that have so many children that being pregnant one more time feels like a burden for them.
those with cancer or Parkinson’s or depression.
those that are unemployed or not in a job they really want.
families that live very far from extended family.
a family with a seriously ill child.

It is even more difficult to write a Christmas letter with updates about our family. What a downer it would be to put in the letter that we have had six miscarriages. I would love to add in our letter that our youngest is actually younger than our four-year-old.

There are some obvious blessings to reflect on as I update the addresses:

a mother that is counting the days that she is still pregnant after many miscarriages, and it seems that she will get to rock and hold a little girl in a few months.
families that are healing after the death of a loved one or a divorce.
families that were able to adopt a child.
a family that rejoices because their child is healthy after major surgery.

Our family has many blessings, too. We have many friends and family all over the world to whom we send Christmas cards. My husband is healthy after a major surgery two years ago. We have three healthy sons. Both sets of our parents are alive and still married to each other. We added a brother-in-law to our family last year. We were able to move closer to one side of the family and able to buy a house beyond what we expected. My husband has a good job. We are part of a wonderful church family.

Yet, there are more blessings, still. Each day I thank and praise God that He safely brought me to another day to live out my baptismal life in Christ. We should not despair even when thinking of all the suffering of our family and friends. Whatever happens in our lives, we are God’s children and God will work it for our eternal good. God will provide and care for our every need. My address list will always have suffering on it because we live in a sinful world. Jesus has conquered sin, death, and the devil. We press on towards the goal of eternal life in heaven. Because of all the suffering on earth, we long for heaven even more.

“Be near me, Lord Jesus: I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.”

LSB 364:3

Rachel Pollock

Open Hands

Come with me to the other side of the fence for a moment and sit with a sister in Christ whose daily life looks markedly different from your own.

Aubri reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that children are a blessing because God says they are, period. For, more often than we’d like to admit, the suffering that comes with mothering makes us feel anything but blessed.

Being the mother of five children, ages four and under can make it easy to feel more burdened than blessed and call my struggles, suffering. The endless work with little to show for it, the emotional strain of teething infants, defiant toddlers and helpless preschoolers wears on me; enduring fussy, fighting children and wondering if they’ll ever become kind, rational people; being needed by everyone, all the time and the worrying that I’m doing everything wrong.

Somedays I’m embarrassed by all the mess, noise and chaos that comes with a lot of children. The wreck of a porch strewn with tricycles, containers of dirt, old strollers and half-naked children screaming at each other; or opening the door to our van, loose diapers, sippy cups and crayons falling out onto the street and a load of fussy children tumbling out behind all that. My pride is damaged and humbled, knowing many people look at us and think, “I’m glad that’s not me” or “Don’t they know better?” I become so afraid of being “those people with all the wild, dirty kids.” It’s hard to fight the shame for what is all over my family; weakness, sin, failure all on display everywhere we go.

I fear being judged for living the only way I feel is right and godly. For embracing children and God’s authority over all of life and being thought a fool. I reluctantly confess that my own flesh feels like a fool! How many times have I pitied myself and been frustrated by those who look at us with a freak-show curiosity, resenting that we can’t even share the joy of an expected child without discouragement and comments of “concern” from loved ones who don’t understand our beliefs.

But my public cross is light compared to what I bear in private, in my heart where the sin of fear sits firm for days. I’ve had five babies in five years. I could have five more in the next five years. Pregnancy after pregnancy. I’m weary and worn down. Lord, how much more will you give me? How can you ask me to mother these babes well when I’m so tired, so scared and so angry over the sacrifices I have to make all day long?

In the trenches of motherhood it’s hard to feel blessed but that is true regardless of how I feel. I am blessed because God says I am. By His grace I can confidently confess that and give thanks.

I have to hold my hands open to God’s blessing of children because it’s right, not because I always want to. It’s foolishness to think I control life. God says that children are His gifts. He gives and He withholds as He wills. I can only live by faith and rest in what God has ordained. That is not easy—but what we are all called to do.

By God’s grace, despite my worries, I rejoice when I’m found to be with child again. I’m amazed that He would open my womb and our family to another life. I am blessed five times now with a front row seat of watching God’s greatest creations as they grow. I thank God for the moments I can relish my blessings, letting the mess of the day wash off of me; for the moments like none other when one of my precious children grins at me, puts their head on my shoulder or says something remarkable. I know that these moments are just for me. God is good. And He always provides grace and strength to make it through today.

Aubri H.

The Sarah Syndrome

God promised childless Abraham that He would provide him an heir, a son of his own, and that Abraham’s offspring would number as many as the stars in the heaven. Abraham believed the promise of the LORD, and God counted it to him as righteousness.

Sarah, on the other hand, struggled to believe the promise.

She looked at her eighty-plus-year-old husband and her own, barren womb and saw only impossibility. How could God provide an heir through their cockamamie, one-flesh union? No, if they were going to have offspring that numbered as many as the stars in the heaven, they were going to need to take matters into their own hands. They were going to need to find a solution outside of their marriage union – outside of God’s promise.

But, what to do? IVF was not an option then. There were no fertility specialists to whom she could submit her husband’s semen for analysis. Plastic hadn’t been invented, yet, let alone those syringe-y thingies that could shoot Abraham’s seed closer to the target. There were no sperm banks she could consult for finding a tall, dark, and handsome brain surgeon to father her children. Nope, surrogacy was the best answer she could devise, so Sarah gave Hagar, her Egyptian slave, to her husband for impregnating.

And, he did.

The result? Marital trouble, broken relationships, agony, chaos, suffering, grief, and Ishmael, a wild donkey of a man who would beget a whole people born into slavery.

That’s what happens when we believe in the work of our own hands rather than in the promises of God. We create more slavery – slavery to sin, slavery to self, slavery to idols, slavery to the consequences of our actions, and, in Sarah’s case, literally more slaves.

I think we all suffer from Sarah Syndrome to some degree. When we grow restless in our barrenness, when we wait on the LORD for deliverance from our affliction, that is when the symptoms begin to show. The anxiety. The coveting. The self-entitlement. The spouse-loathing. The disbelief. We start visiting doctors who advocate for practices that break commandments of the LORD. We succumb to the advice of the roaring women around us and try to be fruitful and multiply outside of the one-flesh union God designed for procreation. We start looking around for some Hagars to give us the children we want and think we deserve.

And then, like Sarah, we despair when the work of our hands comes to fruition. For, we the baptized know deep down inside that God will give us a child if it be according to His will – not from a petri dish, not from a surrogate, not from the work of our own hands, but from the mysterious, one-flesh union God designed from the beginning of time or from the gift of adoption He so perfectly demonstrates for us in His Word. If God does not give us the gift of children through these blessed means, then we can be assured that it is for the best. He is working our childlessness for our good, and we can confidently rest in God’s guarantee of that goodness as He proclaims it in Scripture. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the the name of the Lord.”

Maybe you have already acted out on your Sarah Syndrome and feel ashamed. In Christ, sister, be at peace and take joy in this good news:

In spite of all of Sarah’s disbelief, in spite of her meddling, in spite of her laughing and lying, God still kept His promise to her and to Abraham. God visited Sarah years later, long after her menses had ceased, and she finally conceived and bore Isaac, a son and heir from whose family line would eventually come Jesus, the Savior of the world.

In keeping His promise to Sarah, God was actually keeping His promise to save you; and, in believing this promise, God counts it to you as righteousness.

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Not a blessed, one-flesh union in the bunch.

“Different, Not Less”

In the movie Temple Grandin, Temple is a brilliant young woman, coping with the stigma of autism. She does so in a time when autism was misunderstood. However, Temple is blessed with a loving family, who support her efforts for higher education and understanding by the world around her. At one point in the movie, Temple’s mother wants to enroll her in a boarding high school. Some of the faculty members are apprehensive to accept her. Eventually, Temple’s mother tells one of the teachers that she wants people to know that her daughter is “different, not less.” That quote struck a chord with me.

I am different but not less than the mother whose womb has carried children multiple times. I am different but not less than the mother who takes her beloved brood with her to the grocery store. I am different but not less than the family who drives a 15-passenger van so that their family can ride together.

My world is different than yours but not less. Please don’t think of me as your “barren friend” only. Yes, my world is different than yours, but it is not less. The Lord does not look down on me because my womb is closed. He loves me. He does not treat me any differently than the rest of the world. I am condemned of all my sins, the same as my neighbor. In fact, God’s only Son Jesus died for me, just as He did for the sins of the entire world. I am forgiven of all of my sins, the same as my neighbor.

My name is Kristi Leckband, and I am barren. I am different, not less.

Second Annual Writing Contest

Dear Women, Men, Married, Single, Barren, and Blessed:

We’ve got another writing contest brewing.

Last year, we asked you to reflect on the topic “Advent and Barrenness.” This year, we would like you to submit posts on the topic “My Suffering Is a Blessing.” The winning post, chosen by our panel of hosts, will receive a free copy of He Remembers the Barren as well as a surprise. (That’s right. A surprise.) The top three finalists will also see their posts featured on our website.

Simply compose your post of 600 words or less in an email and send it to katie@katieschuermann.com by December 25th. The winner will be announced on Epiphany (January 6th).

Please be sure to include your name and shipping address in the email.

Sincerely,

Your HRTB Hosts

Words of Grief and Hope

Special thanks to the Rev. Todd A. Peperkorn for granting permission to reprint this post from his website “Lutheran Logomaniac.” Pastor Peperkorn is a husband, a father, and a pastor. He shares his grief and his confidence in the promise of the resurrection on the Last Day.

“Nadia After Eight”

Each year the day after Thanksgiving begins a period for me where a whole bunch of anniversaries begin. The first is the death of our unborn daughter, Nadia. After that comes the death of our unborn son, Emmanuel. Then it is the death of my mother. Finally is the time when I went on disability for clinical depression.

In many ways my grief is less raw than it once was. It is less primal and fear inducing. My grief now has taken on another character. That character is grief as guilt.

I remember when Nadia died eight years ago. No one knows what to do with a miscarriage. Is it a big deal or not? How do people react to such a thing? And because no one knows what to do, that generally means that most people do nothing. We had a lot of family staying with us when Nadia died, and sure enough, they really did nothing.

I remember being angry at them, so very angry. WE LOST A BABY! Why don’t you care?

Eight years later, I can see that my anger at them was really not directed so much at them as it was at God. They were simply an easier target. When someone dies, above all you want someone to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Fix it, somehow. The least you can do is die with them. But it doesn’t work that way. Someone dies, and everything else just lingers on. Eventually things return to normal, whatever that means. But that smoldering anger remains.

The fact is that God did do something about Nadia’s death. He sent His Son into another womb, helpless and in complete and utter need. And He lived that life of no consequence, just like everyone else’s life. You wouldn’t know Him by looking at Him. And so it is that He died. He died for all of the Nadias out there. He died for all the children born and unborn who are enslaved by this grip of death. He died for the grieving and lingering. He died for them and for me. And you.

I’m not angry at God anymore. Not about that, at least. Ok, not as much. But the grief remains. I cling to this grief, believing that by holding onto this grief (and anger) I can somehow maintain the rightness of my cause. Surely God will do something about this. Surely He will call her from the dead. Surely we will feast together at the Last Day. Surely God will dry our tears. Surely…

Zion hears the watchmen singing,

And all her heart with joy is springing;

She wakes, she rises from her gloom.

For her Lord comes down all-glorious,

The strong in grace, in truth victorious;

Her star is ris’n, her light is come.

Now come, Thou Blessèd One,

Lord Jesus, God’s own Son,

Hail! Hosanna!

We enter all

The wedding hall

To eat the Supper at Thy call.

(LSB 516:2)