Suffering

“He Will Not Always Chide”

“Bless the LORD, O my soul,
 and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
 so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

The LORD works righteousness
and justice for all who are oppressed.
He made known his ways to Moses,
his acts to the people of Israel.
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.”
Psalm 103:1-10 (ESV)

He who has made you barren is not repaying you according to your iniquities. No, the wages of your Sin has already been paid in full by the death of Christ on the cross.

The LORD is merciful and gracious to you even in your barrenness, for, in Jesus, He has kept His promise to work righteousness and justice for you, the oppressed. He has forgiven you of your Sin – Alleluia! – and works this rotten, wretched pain for your good (Romans 8:28).

That is why we, the childless, can join our voices with the psalmist:

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, 
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!”

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What’s Your Job?

“What is your job, anyway?” one of my best friends asked me this week. “You know, this thing you do. The driving around everywhere to listen to peoples’ problems.”

Huh. I knew what she was asking, but I didn’t know how to answer. Because I’m not exactly sure myself. “Facilitator, I guess.”

I thought for one more moment before nodding my head. Yes, that’s the best word I could think of for it. I’m not a trained social worker; I don’t have an official call as a deaconess in the church; I’m not employed by any organization to do this traveling-speaking-listening-thing. But still. People want, even need, the chance to get together to talk about all kinds of things – suffering, barrenness, secondary infertility, chronic pain, infertility ethics, miscarriages, estranged children, dead family members, you name it – and it’s my privilege to facilitate that getting together.

My friend nodded and did that thing she does so well. She waited for me to say more, for she wasn’t being sassy in her questioning. She was being helpful, encouraging me to process and talk about my strange vocation.

“Actually,” I confided, leaning against her kitchen counter for support, “this may sound silly, but I kind of think of myself as a mother of women whose own mothers live far away or are already asleep in Jesus. They need a woman to hold their hand, listen to them, hug them, comfort them, and remind them of God’s faithfulness to them in Christ Jesus. They need a mother. I get to be that for them, sometimes.”

I felt my face warm at this very personal admission. I’m barren, but I had just called myself a mother. I hastily explained, “I just don’t blog about it very much, because I feel weird admitting it to others.”

But it’s true.

So I just blogged about it.

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Infertility Ethics Symposium

Thank you to Andy Bates and KFUO’s His Time show for interviewing Dr. Jeff Gibbs and me this morning on the upcoming Infertility Ethics Symposium at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis.

You can listen to the interview here.

Reporter Online also recently published a helpful article which explains why the LCMS Life Ministry and the Concordia Seminary Life Team are co-sponsoring this important and timely event.

You can read the article here.

Cross-Bearing

 

Simon-of-Cyrene

We are Simon of Cyrene.

We are called out of our comfortable existences – away from our well-laid plans and trips and vacations – to pick up the cross and turn towards Golgotha.

We are called to step alongside our bloody Savior.

We are called to messy good works which our Lord has prepared in advance for us to do.

We are called to witness the Suffering Servant pour out His blood for our atonement.

We are inconvenienced – yes, even annoyed – to have to bear the weight of something so filthy, but we are blessed beyond reason to be plucked from the crowd of goats. For we, in our cross-carrying, see the Savior’s power to bear more than just the weight of splintery wood. We see Him bear the crushing weight of Sin so that nothing – not our sin, not death, not the devil – can separate us from the love of God.

We who have been baptized into Jesus’ death will carry the cross and die with Him, but – Good News! – our Savior did not stay dead. He is risen, and we will rise again, too! Alleluia!

So put a shoulder under it, Simon.

A Shout-out to the Singles

124426 copyTo all of my sisters and brothers in the house who grieve not only the absence of children of their own but also the absence of a spouse:

Remember this?

Well, our wait for Adriane Dorr Heins‘ book is over.

Hello, My Name is Single is finally available through Concordia Publishing House, and you can order it here.

I have a confession to make. I had the chance to sneak an early peak at the book (okay, read it all the way through) a couple of months ago, and – let me tell you – it is a delight!

In her book, Heins serves up a rich feast of Christ’s comfort—a tasty meal brined in Holy Writ, peppered to perfection with the Lutheran Confessions, and paired with Heins’ signature, zesty wit—prepared especially for those yearning for the gift of a spouse. Though “Single” is the name written on the place card, Heins generously invites all of us to the banquet table to partake of the peace and joy which alone are found in our Lord Jesus and His Church.

Heins begins the meal with a salty appetizer, “You are not defined by being single. No, you are a child of God: whole and perfect, broken no more,” and quickly refreshes the palate with a clarifying sorbet, “We are not alone, and we don’t live as though we are. We are one with Christ, even if we have no spouse or boyfriend or girlfriend or any friends at all, and He is the one who gives us our value, our worth, our meaning.”

The crunchy salad course whets the appetite for something meaty, “The time and ability to serve the Body of Christ is one of our best and most needed gifts as singles,” which Chef Heins delivers with an experienced hand: “And so it all boils down to this: All of us – single or married – want to place our importance and our worth on something we can control, rather than find it in Christ. We want something that’s not ours to have (at least not yet), and so our Good Shepherd responds to us in a way that teaches us again what His good and perfect will for us is.” *

And as for dessert, well…Did you really think I would give the best part away in a single (pun intended) blog post?

Nope. You’ll have to get the book yourself to find out what’s on the menu.

So, pick up your copy today (along with a fork), and down the hatch!

* (Hello, My Name Is Single by Adriane Dorr Heins, 7-24)

A Prayer of Faith and Hope

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:

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Thank you, Amy, whoever you are. And thank you, Dr. G. You both provide so much encouragement to every woman who sees you.

 

Real Comfort Food

A child prays.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.

The Miry Bog

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I cannot dig myself out of any grief pit. In my grief, I must wait on the LORD to pull me out:

“I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD [Psalm 40:1-3].”

I want so badly to do something in my grief, something to save myself from all of this mucky darkness; but, then, I think that is the point of suffering. It reminds us that we can do nothing to save ourselves. We must be saved. By Jesus. He is the One who sets our feet upon a rock and puts a new song in our mouths.

Grief is simply waiting on the LORD, turning in repentance and faith to the only One who can save us.

Have mercy, Lord Jesus. Come quickly!