Suffering

The Enlightenment

In Dr. Martin Luther’s Small Catechism he reminds the Christian that one of the jobs of the Holy Spirit is to “enlighten me with His gifts,” and this enlightenment so often occurs when we are hearing the Spirit-filled words of Holy Scripture. Have you ever had that experience? Perhaps you’ve read the passage a hundred times before but suddenly you get it. It happened to me in church this week. The words hit my ears and penetrated my soul. The sanctuary filled with a bright light while angels sang and harps strummed to a great crescendo. Well, ok, maybe that part was just going on in my head. But the “aha!” moment was so profound that I almost felt like interrupting the service just to ask everyone if they had truly grasped the magnitude of the holy words we had just sung.

“For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” Psalm 84:11

For a few seconds I wrestled with the “from those who walk uprightly” part. Does this passage really apply to me? I know how deep sin dwells within me. I cannot stand uprightly before God and face Him like I am. But wait–because I have put on Christ in my baptism, doesn’t our Heavenly Father see Christ when He looks at me? Do not the words of absolution I just received remind me that I am forgiven and righteous before God? And do not the righteous walk “uprightly”? YES! This is meant for me!

And then the key words of the passage were finally able to seep into the still empty crevices of my heart, like a soothing ointment that provides instant relief from pain. No good thing does He withhold. It finally occurred to me: God’s not holding out on me.

I hear the cry of a newborn infant in a store and I think, “Oh, what a blessed sound! How good it would be to hear that sound in my own home.” But it wouldn’t be good. Not now. Because if it would be truly good for me then I would already have it.

I hear of young single women who have just discovered that they are pregnant and I think, “Wouldn’t our family be best for this child? Doesn’t the girl realize how much better of a life this baby would have with two parents instead of one?” But over and over God has clearly indicated that it would not be good for those children to be ours. And God wants the highest good for us and for these children.

No good thing does He withhold. This means that right now, in this time and this place, I have all good things from my Lord and Savior. Whatever I feel that I lack is, according to Him, not a good thing for me. He is withholding only those things that are harmful to my body or my soul . He is, as the Psalm also says, my sun, lighting my path to my heavenly home through the promises of His Holy Word so that I do not stumble along the way. He is my shield, protecting me from all things which might lead me to trust in something other than His grace and mercy alone. He is also protecting me from myself and the ramifications of my sinful and selfish desires by covering me with His blood.

He’s not holding out on me. This realization is so freeing, so comforting. Even though we know better we can sometimes still be caught pondering whether our past sins have caused our current heartache. We feel like we’re being punished in some way, like a child whose parent has put his favorite toy up on the shelf because he did not pick up his room when told to do so. But God is not holding out on us. The baby we so desire is not waiting out there somewhere until we can get our acts together, figure out what sin we haven’t confessed, or guess at what God wants us to do next. He is giving all good things to us now–this moment, this day, this week. Alleluia! Let those angels keep on singing! I wish you could hear them, too.

Poked and Pampered

There is a certain amount of vulnerability a girl feels as she lies on a hospital bed under the fluorescent lights, her thin, cotton gown a little more breezy than she would prefer. Adrenaline surges through her veins every few minutes as pre-op nurses poke and prod and swipe and press and wrap and prepare and pamper. Each touch is gentle and every smile is sincere, but the nurses’ attempts to make a girl feel comfortable only serve to remind her of just how uncomfortable she is about to be.

And what they are going to do to her body.

And how long it is going to take for her flesh to heal.

And what the doctor is going to tell her afterwards.

The thought of it all steals the strength from her bones, the very breath from her lungs. But, then, the voice of her pastor, her faithful shepherd sitting bedside, cuts through the beeps and swishes of machines, through the white noise of her fear:

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah

Those of low estate are but a breath;
those of high estate are a delusion;
in the balances they go up;
they are together lighter than a breath.
Put no trust in extortion;
set no vain hopes on robbery;
if riches increase, set not your heart on them.

Once God has spoken;
twice have I heard this:
that power belongs to God…”*

And the girl is reminded that she does not have to be strong. She only needs to be His.

(*Psalm 62:5-11, ESV)

Baby Showers and Baptisms

Question submitted: How have you made it through going to baby showers? It’s difficult for me. My younger sister’s baby shower is coming up, and I am nervous about going because I don’t want to start crying in front of everyone.

A baby shower. A baby’s baptism. Meeting a new niece or nephew at the hospital for the first time. My participation in each of these events is a painful reminder to me of what I lack. I’m not the guest of honor at a baby shower. I don’t get to dress my baby in a family heirloom baptismal gown on her special day. I’m not the one who has recently birthed a child at the hospital.

I never realized how emotional these events were until the baptism of my brother’s first child. There was no way I was going to shed any tears on that special day. I thought I could be strong enough to mask my own disappointment. I wanted to be the parent who was bringing my child to the baptismal font, but I wasn’t going to let anybody see the pain on my face. I had told myself that this day was about my niece and the special gifts she was being given. What I didn’t tell myself was that it was okay to grieve as well.

Meeting my niece was precious. Holding her made me feel special. The hardest part, though, was when my daughter Joanna got to hold her new cousin. She swelled with pride and beamed from cheek to cheek. That’s when I had to fight back the tears. This picturesque moment should have been for my baby.

I had squelched the urge to cry; I decided that would be the only time I’d weep over the weekend. I didn’t think the Sunday morning baptism would affect me. What a lie I’d told myself. When the congregation began singing the baptismal hymn, the flood gates opened. I was crying because I hadn’t been gifted a child. I listened to the hymn and begged God to forgive my selfishness. As my niece was baptized, I heard the sweet gospel news that she was a forgiven member of the family of Christ. I was forgiven, too.

The focus of this day was not about my personal desire for a large family, nor about my barren womb. It was about God’s gift of a child. In my sinful pride, I had looked at the birth of my niece as a punishing reminder of what I didn’t have. Once I recalled God’s blessings of a child to my brother and his wife, then I could share in their excitement. All children are gifts from the Lord, and they should be celebrated. My niece had become my sister in Christ; that was reason for rejoicing.

Before my niece’s baptism, I told my brother that I might not always appear joyful. It was not meant to anger or remove myself from the family. Rather, it was going to be hard because I was mourning my own loss. He understood and was thankful that I could articulate my feelings to him. Share your feelings with your sister. Let her know that you’re nervous about the shower. You love your sister and want to be part of her special day; tell her that you do rejoice with her. And if you cry that day, it’s okay. Your sister will know that it’s hard for you, but she’ll appreciate even more your honesty.

During the shower, you will find yourself comparing your situation to your sister’s; this is normal. Remind yourself that this is a time of God’s blessing. Find ways to occupy your mind. Help write down the gifts; offer to help with refreshments. These activities will help keep you focused on the blessings God is giving.

Yes, baby showers and baptisms are difficult times. However, they are also reasons to give thanks to the Lord for His generous love. Children should be celebrated for what they are – gifts. While you may not have children of your own, you are God’s child. You are a gift to your parents and to those who love you. That’s something to celebrate.

The Fact of the Matter Is…

Kelly Stout reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that we do not wait for the Lord in vain:

There are many ways the word “wait” is used in the English language. I could be “waiting” for a bus, as in expecting something to happen soon that I know will eventually happen. I could be “waiting” for the day I pay off my student loans, as in looking forward to something spectacular. I could be “waiting” for my friend to arrive off the plane at an airport, as in being in a state of readiness for something to occur.

As a couple who lost our first child in a miscarriage, had our second child through domestic infant adoption, and had our third child through conception and birth, we have learned to use the word “wait” sparingly. It can have a glaringly awful connotation to those going through any of these life events.

“Just wait, it will happen for you eventually!” – A comment said by many (who mean well) to those who are barren or have lost a child to miscarriage (when in fact, it may very well not happen).

“Now that your documents are completed, we just wait for the courts to approve this.” – A sentence every adoptive parent trembles at in anticipation of having an adoption finalized.

“We need to wait for the next ultrasound results before we can make any recommendations.” – A scary statement for any couple “waiting” for a child through pregnancy.

The fact of the matter is – sometimes waiting is excruciating.

In Advent, we wait for our Lord. “Wait,” as in expecting something to happen soon that I know will eventually happen…as in looking forward to something spectacular… as in being in a state of readiness for something to occur. Oh great, again, we wait. But why does the wait of Advent have such a different connotation than the waiting associated with miscarriage, barrenness, adoption, and birth? That is simple.

First, there are no questions about what WILL happen. I don’t have to wonder what is coming at the end of this wait. I know that my Lord – the baby born in a manger, the God man who died on a cross for me, the creator of heaven and earth, the God who gave me all three of my wonderful children (one being a child I am waiting to meet someday) – I know that my Lord IS coming. The assurance of what WILL happen is a gift from our Lord.

Secondly (and the best part about this type of waiting), my Lord already comes to me through Word and Sacrament. I don’t have to endure this wait without Him. His faith is brought to me by hearing His Word. His true body and blood are present for me in Communion. Kneeling at His table, I have a piece of the heaven I have been waiting for all this time. The Christ Child we speak of during Advent provides comfort, forgiveness, and eternal life through His death and resurrection. These gifts are enough to sustain me through all the waits I have in this life.

To make the moment at the Communion rail even sweeter, I also know that my child who endured an earthly death is there with the angels, the archangels, all the company of heaven, and me. We are joined in perfect communion with all the saints.

The fact of the matter is – sometimes waiting is heavenly.

Kelly Stout

Promises That Bring Eternal Life

Heidi Sias reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that though God does not promise all women will bear children, He does make promises – and He keeps them:

“Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.” In Luke 1, we hear the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth. God made a promise to them that they would bear a son, John. John was to be the forerunner for Christ, and he leaped in the womb when he heard Mary, the mother of our Lord, approach with a greeting. Even as a baby in the womb, John recognized the advent of our King. This was John’s first proclamation of the Messiah, whom Mary carried in her womb, as he recognized this babe who had come to be the sacrifice for the sins of the world and bring salvation to all who believe.

When God makes promises, He keeps them. Elizabeth had a promise from God to finally bear a child even in her old age, however women today don’t have that same promise. They may bear a child, or they may not bear a child. Those who are barren suffer because of the broken world of sin that we live in where everything doesn’t go perfectly. There’s not always a “happy ending” when it comes to having a child of their own. Women who have children of their own also suffer because of the broken world of sin through the heartache that comes with raising a child when everything doesn’t go perfectly. Each woman has her own cross to bear. Though God does not today promise women that they will bear children, He still has many promises for us–promises that bring eternal life for all who believe.

First, in 1 Corinthians 12, God promises that those in Christ are members of one body. In this we depend on one other, rejoice with one another, mourn with one another and comfort one another. Through this, barren women have many children in the family of God. We care for one another and help one another, especially children who need this help. Though a barren woman does not have a flesh and blood child to care for, she does have children in the body of Christ, family, godchildren, orphans and those who are needy, whom she gets to care for as a servant of Christ.

Most importantly however, everyone who is in Christ has His promise of salvation. This includes those who are barren and those who are fruitful. This promise is for you! Elizabeth says to Mary upon her visit, “blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from her Lord.” Women today are also blessed in believing this promise given to us in God’s Word. Jesus Christ fulfilled this promise when He took on flesh and came down to earth as a baby. He grew up to die on a cross. He rose from the dead to conquer death once and for all. He has won salvation for us, this tiny babe of Bethlehem. We can lift up our heads with confidence in His victory for us, as we through faith await His return in the second advent of our King. On this last day He will take us to be with Him, where He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore. (Revelation 21:4) Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!

Heidi Sias

He Comes

Mary Moerbe reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that while God may not cater to our own plans in this life, He eludes all expectations in His perfect provision for us:

In Advent, we focus on the comings of Christ. It is a time to ponder the Incarnation of our God, His final coming, and of course His coming to us in His Word and His gifts of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. He comes and we wait, still we cannot anticipate His movements.

Every morning we wake up in a sort of personal advent to prepare ourselves for what is coming. We wait. We have our expectations, but they falter. Everyday a portion of trouble, a series of reality checks, exercise our patience.

When real life comes to call, patience is often more exhausted than fit. Our strength gets tested and proves thin. All sorts of things bubble up to the surface: our disappointment, anger, bewilderment, and more reflect our inner desires, needs and instability. Our weaknesses and lack of control either lead to despair or point us once again to what is needful: God, salvation, His stability, His strength.

Ours is a God who eludes expectations. He takes decisions out of our hands and often leaves us choices we don’t want, but He does provide. We wait and when our desires do not come, He comes Himself:

^“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodieswill be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.” (2 Peter 3:9-10).

He may not cater to our own plans, but our Lord takes amazing care of us. Like a thief, His presence is often hidden, but He can enter through locked doors, pass through walls, and slip right into our souls. He is closer to us than we can dream. His day will come and alter everything.

As our Savior, our Strong Man, our hope and our brother, Jesus Christ takes our guilt from us and, on that final day, He will steal our last vestiges of grief! He will clear out the places and reminders we fear. He will delete our debts from every ghost file, even those hidden in the minds of others. He will take our identities and replace it with one of His own crafting.

When Christ comes to us in that final Advent, He will, quite literally, clean us out of house and home. Even as He washed us in the cleansing, sanctifying waters of Baptism, He will clear out every closet of lingering guilt and shame. Even as He feeds us with the very embodiment of forgiveness in His Body and His Blood, He will evict our worthless trophies of self-righteous thoughts and deeds.

Our new home may have little to do with what our current lives do. It will not be about working for a living. It will not be about debt or struggles. It will not be about growing up or longing for the pitter patter of little feet. It will be about us as children, once more receiving from the bounty of our heavenly Father. We will be in His home, His kingdom, in the house He has prepared for us. It will be about gathering as brothers and sisters around the one Brother, who brought us into our holy, heavenly family. Thanks be to God, and “Come, Lord Jesus.”

Mary Moerbe

Let It Be To Me

I continue to marvel at Mary’s response to Gabriel’s unbelievable message: “…let it be to me according to your word,” (Luke 1:38). She didn’t know what those words really meant, did she? She couldn’t have known. She couldn’t have foreseen the heartache she would have to go through as the mother of the Messiah, who was destined to suffer and die. Yet the Holy Spirit moved her to speak with great confidence in her calling as the Lord’s servant, chosen for an honor unlike any that had ever been given before. A great honor, to be sure, but one that was accompanied by great suffering.

Can you speak these words from Mary as you experience the unexpected, the disappointments, the losses? Throughout our lives we all experience those proverbial “closed doors” where it seems pretty clear that going in the direction we had planned is not according to God’s plan. This news does not come from a heavenly being, reminding us first to “Fear not,” but rather from physicians or social workers who are simply stating the facts.

“The cancer had spread more than we thought,” says the surgeon.“We had to do a hysterectomy.” But I’m so young! It doesn’t seem possible that I’ll never be able to give birth. I never dreamed this would happen.

“It doesn’t appear that any growth has taken place in the last month,” says the OB. “I’m so sorry.” No! This was the answer to our prayers. Why would God give us this miracle and then take it away? It’s not fair.

“We have just received word that all referrals are on hold indefinitely,” states the email from the agency. “We will notify you when we have more details.” Not another hold up! We’ve been through this before. This could add even more years to our wait.

The shock. The denial. The anger. The fight. The exhaustion. The surrender. Then, finally, the prayer: “Let it be to me according to Your word.”

Using Mary’s statement as a prayer can be both a spiritual and physical struggle for some. At times we may even feel the need to physically grasp hold of something as we speak it so as to brace ourselves for the realization of all our fears. Our sinful nature attaches such hesitancy to this concept of full submission. Why is that? After all these years of the Lord’s providence, generosity, faithfulness, and care, why have we still not learned our lesson?

For me it’s getting a little better. You know why? I’ve been practicing. Every week on Sunday morning I hear the true, inspired, life-giving words that speak of the Lord’s promises to me and I practice this prayer—this time with all boldness and confidence.

“In the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.…” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“I believe in the…resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“…given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”

Let it be to us all according to His Word!

An Eternity Secured

Comment Submitted: I suffered my third miscarriage in September. It feels like we have come to the end of trying to have our own family. (I have no children, but he has a son from a previous relationship.) I am fearful of what our future holds. My husband is dealing better with the miscarriage than I am. He has faith, but I don’t.

I’m very sorry to hear about your losses. If you’ve been following our website, you may know that I also suffered a miscarriage less than three years ago. Along with the emotional turmoil you are experiencing, I pray your body is medically healing from this physical loss as well. I hope you have a trusted physician that can give you sound medical advice, and perhaps a counselor and your husband’s pastor to care for your emotional and spiritual needs.

Your fears about the future, in the wake of losing another child, are completely normal and natural. Thoughts about “what could have been if this child were here now” can sometimes play like a broken record when we are at our lowest. Thinking about due dates, anniversaries and other “milestone would-have-beens” are sources of tremendous earthly sorrow. And you have had to go through this three times. You are grieving yet another dashed hope. Concern about how this will affect your future and your relationship with your husband is completely understandable.

While material goods, and even friends, family and spouses are certainly beneficial and can comfort us in ways large and small, the eternal consolation we can always cling to is to know that Jesus went to the cross and defeated sin, death and Satan so that we can live forever in everlasting blessedness, righteousness and innocence. Yes, we will still suffer on this side of heaven. Yes, loved ones will die. Yes, we will doubt and despair at times. But even this is okay. You might think I’m crazy to say so, but hear how one dear pastor explains our hardships, or crosses, in his own words:

“Crosses are not signs of God’s disfavor. They come upon God’s children from His mercy. Sometimes they come as a holy discipline, as chastisement, to keep us close to God. But they always come for His glory. And they almost always come unexplained, with no apparent cause. Simply put, they come as part of the chaos and death that is all around us in this fallen world.

But we abide in the grace of Christ, the one who forgives the guilt of our sin, even our most grievous, stupid and ugly sin. And in the meantime, crosses, even when they are a result of our own actions, are endured in faith. They teach us to pray, to remain fully dependent upon God’s mercy. They teach us that we cannot make our own way through this world or to the next. They teach us that Christ is the way, that we live not by sight but by faith, even as we pray that they be removed. We recognize our crosses as coming from God for our own good, but we name them as evil things, realizing that some of our crosses will only be removed when we are transferred to the Church Triumphant (heaven).” (Pastor David H. Petersen, The Lutheran Witness, November 2011)

You are a precious child of God, Sister. May you recognize this even now in your suffering. Miscarriage is nobody’s fault but a result of our fallen world. While none of us have a crystal ball and know what the future holds this side of heaven, we do know that our eternal futures are secure. When in doubt, just refer back to John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him will not perish, but have everlasting life.”

You mentioned in your comment that your husband has faith, but you don’t. It reminds me of the father who was uncertain of whether or not Jesus could help his afflicted son and said, “I believe! Help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24) Even the most faithful Christians utter this very same hopeful-yet-doubting phrase daily in their hearts. And that’s okay, too. God takes our doubting hearts and minds and turns them onto His Son, our crucified and risen Savior–even (and especially) when we don’t want to. On behalf of the HeRemembersTheBarren.com hosts and community, I pray this is so for you. Otherwise anything we may have to say will likely be of little comfort. With the help and grace of God, may you be encouraged and assured in the thing most needful in all our lives, Jesus, in the midst of the turmoil.

We can rest in the knowledge and comfort that our Triune God is the Author and Giver of life. He did not create death, but destroyed it in Jesus! Just as your three children were known before the very foundation of the world, so too, God knew you! He not only calls you to hear him in His Word, but gives you immeasurably more through his many masks of mercy—in your husband, faithful pastors, doctors, friends, family and so on. In these many gifts, we are reminded that our eternal salvation is secure in Jesus. You are in our thoughts and prayers as you continue to bear these crosses. But be comforted that you do not bear them alone.

Capris and Consolation

There’s an outfit in my closet that I refer to as my miscarriage outfit. I know, it sounds morbid, doesn’t it? But after all this time it has just become a casual term for one of my favorite things to wear. There’s my “cozy-Sunday-afternoon-in-the-winter” outfit, my “chic-going-on-a-date-with-my-man” outfit, and there’s the “miscarriage” outfit. The phrase brings no tears, no pain, just great endearment towards the family members who gave it to me at a time when I needed them and somehow they knew exactly what to do for me.

The week following the miscarriage, my dear mother, sister and sister-in-law all drove three hours to come stay with me, share my grief, and make me feel loved. They brought me chocolate, took me out to eat, and bought me the most comfy, casual (but cute!), capri sweatsuit outfit that I’ll probably ever own. They didn’t try and get me to count my blessings or make promises that they couldn’t confirm would be fulfilled. They were just there—listening, loving, simply being present. Two out of the three women had themselves lost children in the womb (one of them several times). They knew what to do. Not everyone does. I was very blessed.

The next time you hear of a miscarriage, consider whether you can do more than just send a card or make a call. Think about what women in general (and this friend in particular) enjoy, what makes them feel comfortable and loved. Delicious food, cozy outfits, visits from people they love, a good laugh, an inspiring movie. Maybe you aren’t close enough to the person or in a position where you can just drop everything and be with her, but a thoughtful gesture or gift can make a woman feel as if she’s just received a comforting embrace, even if you can’t be there in person.

So thank you mom, Anne, and Amy. Every time I pull on those capris and zip up that sweatshirt I am reminded of the love that my Lord showed me through each of you, who selflessly rushed to my side when you knew I was in pain. I haven’t forgotten.

Interview on “Family Shield”

Thank you to Family Shield Ministries and Kay Meyer for covering the topic of barrenness and He Remembers the Barren on the “Family Shield” radio program yesterday afternoon. I hope you’ll have a listen, too.

Click here for a direct link to the program’s MP3 file.

Or, if you would like to learn more about Family Shield Ministries, please click here.