“My Suffering Is a Blessing” Contest Winner

Blessed Epiphany!

Thank you for taking the time to reflect on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” with us this holy season. It is a privilege to be on the receiving end of your thoughtful words (so much so that we are tempted to host more writing contests throughout the year), and we greatly appreciate your participation in such ventures. It truly is an honor to read your submissions.

We’d like to share five posts with you this week, starting today with a post written by our contest winner, Heidi Dawn Sias. Congratulations, Heidi, on winning a free copy of He Remembers the Barren, and thank you for allowing us to share your words of wisdom and encouragement below.

Grateful,

Your HRTB Hosts

It’s that time of year again: a time for gifts, a time for family gatherings, a time for Christmas cookies, a time for singing carols, a time for New Year’s parties, and a time for children, as they have “visions of sugar-plums” dancing in their heads…whatever that means. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? It’s so much fun to watch children’s eyes light up when they see the lighted Christmas tree with gifts strewn beneath it, and welcome another New Year with hearts full of hopes and dreams. But what about families struggling to make ends meet; what about families who can’t be together; what about families who have lost someone this past year; what about the twenty families in Connecticut who will look at the gifts they bought for their children this year with tears streaming down their face; what about the family in our community here who eagerly awaited their newborn daughter to arrive around Christmas but attended her funeral instead; what about our friend’s extended family member with six-month-old twins, who lost one twin to SIDS just four days before Christmas; what about my sister-in-law whose one-year-old son died one month after Christmas last year after spending his entire life in the hospital; what about me….entering my final child-bearing years and still without a child of my own to hold? These things hurt deeply and we ask, “why?” We might begin to look at the New Year with anxiety wondering what will happen next. Sometimes this time of year reminds us even more of the suffering we’ve endured instead of being the most wonderful time of the year.

But Christmas is about Jesus. It’s not about sugar-plums. Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. That’s Christmas. That’s what we celebrate. That little baby came to take on my burdens and to die on a cross. That little baby is my comfort in suffering. My suffering draws me back again and again to the foot of the cross, weary and weeping. Jesus lifts up my head and points me back to His manger, back to His cross, and says, “I did that for you.” He calls me to himself and says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28) I can rejoice in my suffering “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Rom. 5:3–5) It’s a perplexing phrase: “rejoice in my sufferings.” But I can, because in the end suffering gives me hope. Hope in Christ, the only Hope. Of course, I cry in my sufferings too, but I can still rejoice in knowing God’s love has been poured into my heart. He has made promises that I can count on. He weeps with me, wipes away my tears, and says, “come to me so I can comfort you.” I receive Him in faith, I rest in Him, and I cling to the promises He gives me in His Word; promises of forgiveness, life, and salvation. Hope for a future with Him. Jesus came for me. Jesus came for you. That’s worth celebrating no matter what sufferings we endure. It’s worth celebrating at Christmas, and it’s worth celebrating all year round. My suffering is a blessing because it points me to Christ, and He is all I really need.

Heidi Dawn Sias

It Might Be Catching

In this world, we treat suffering as a disease, as something that can and should be cured. And, as with other diseases, we tend to avoid those who are suffering as we do those who are sick. After all, it might be catching. We don’t want to get what they’ve got.

Phooey!

Take off your masks and get in there, neighbors. Suffering isn’t catching. You can take the hand of the afflicted without fear of transmission, though you might start to feel a little different. Compassion might stir within your gut, and you might cry a little. You might even find that you can no longer ignore all that’s happening around you. You might be moved to action, to cook a meal or mow a lawn. You might find yourself skipping your favorite show on NBC that night to sit with those in distress and read some Psalms.

Whatever happens, expect one thing: You will be moved to pray to God for mercy, because that is what has been given for us to do. We turn in faith to Him who has been merciful to us in Christ Jesus, and we trust in His good will for all of the saints, even the suffering ones.

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.

Thy Kingdom Come

I like to download episodes of Issues, Etc. onto my phone and then take them out on walks with me.

One sunny day in Dallas, I put in my earbuds, stretched my calves and hamstrings, clicked “play” on my phone, and hit the pavement.

(Cue the familiar “Viva la Vida” bump music by Coldplay.)

As I settled into a comfortable stride, the host Todd Wilken introduced that day’s program: a sermon review of some preacher in Indiana, one Rev. David Petersen. Now, I was no dummy Lutheran. I had heard of the guy. He was that chasuble-wearing pastor at Redeemer Lutheran Church in Fort Wayne, the leader of those Rudisillians, a staunchly loyal breed of Lutherans with whom I had bumped elbows on many occasions.

“Repent.” Rev. Petersen spoke into my ears. “You are vain, and you worship yourself.”

P1020576 Woah. How did he know? I looked around the subdivision I was circling. Had anyone seen me blush? Only some crape myrtle trees and those crazy, bug-eyed grackles.

“There is One who needs no repentance,” he continued, preaching from the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin in Luke 15. “…These parables are not about us, and in our fallen flesh we always think everything is about us. These parables are about Him, the Christ, who needs no repentance.”

I noticed that I had slowed down. In fact, I was standing still on the curb, looking up the street but seeing nothing. Well, I was seeing something. I was seeing my reflection in Rev. Petersen’s words, and it wasn’t pretty. It’s never pretty when you stare your Sin in the face, when your conscience plays chicken with a Law-wielding pastor. This guy was telling me that I turn everything, even Scripture, into something about myself. And he was right.

My Old Adam lay slain on the pavement.

“‘I tell you that in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who need no repentance.’ And this is the great surprise. The holy angels rejoice over every sinner who repents more than they ever rejoice over a single, perfect, and holy Messiah who needs no repentance.

…Every sinner on earth, everyone infected with both original and actual sin, everyone in bondage, every habitual sinner, every liar, every betrayer, every pharisee, every pervert, every fraud, every braggart, every drug dealer, terrorist, adulterer, and child pornographer, every selfish, proud person on this planet who repents is worth more joy in heaven than 99 perfect and holy messiahs.

You do not only outrank the sparrows in terms of causing joy in heaven, you outrank God in the flesh. You are worth more than 100 times – at least in terms of joy – you are worth more than 100 times Jesus. Jesus, God in the flesh, does not cause the holy angels of heaven to rejoice even 100th as much as you – your repentance and faith – do.”

Why? Because Jesus, the Messiah, who needs no repentance, is rejected in heaven, and that rejection effects/causes/is the means of the rescue, the salvation, and the redemption of the world, of sinners. “

Okay, by this point, I was a mess. Not a hot, sticky, summer-in-Texas kind of mess but a weeping, liquidated-and-redeemed by the Law and Gospel kind of mess. I found myself walking back and forth on the same square of sidewalk, trying desperately to hold it together for the sake of the Lexuses and BMWs that were now driving by my little piece of universe.

With the blessed Word, this Midwestern pastor had gunned down the black heart of an insignificant pastor’s wife way down below the Mason-Dixon line and then resuscitated it back to life with the precious, life-giving blood of Christ, all within a span of a few minutes.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much of a workout that day, but I did start downloading more Issues, Etc. episodes, especially the ones with the word “Petersen” in the tag line.

I am a proper Pastor Petersen junkie, now. Though I have never met the man, I can’t get enough of his piercingly honest bedside manner when he diagnoses my Sin-sick Old Adam, and he never fails to prescribe the Word-rich remedy which my disease requires: Christ crucified for my redemption.

For this reason, it is my pleasure to inform you that Emmanuel Press recently published Thy Kingdom Come, a collection of Lent and Easter sermons written by Rev. Petersen.

Now, you don’t need to live on Rudisill Boulevard or own an iPod to receive the Word from this beloved pastor. You can simply order this book and let Rev. Petersen preach a sermon to you over and over again, page after fortifying page.

“Faith has no strength in itself,” Rev. Petersen reminds us. “If the faith planted in us is not tended by the Word and Sacraments, it will wither and die…He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”*

Or, in this case, he who has eyes to read, let him read Thy Kingdom Come for the strengthening of his faith.

* (Petersen, Thy Kingdom Come, 5-8)

A Church’s Love

If you could walk through the red doors of this church, you would see my church family. These people love me, my husband (the pastor) and our daughter. They also love our daughter in China, whom we have yet to meet or hold. When we started the adoption process, our church family was excited. Many were eager to share baby clothes and any equipment we might need. As the days dragged into years, they have cried with us as they realized that our wait was getting longer. They comforted us with their hugs when our referral was delayed. Our church family reminded us time and again that we were remembered in their prayers. They have told us they love us, no matter the size of our family. Recently, they demonstrated their love for our family in a huge way.

Knowing that we are getting closer to traveling to China, our church family wanted to show their love and support by sponsoring a church benefit to help cover our travel expenses. Thus was born the project “Nachos for Maria.” Our church members prepared and served a wonderful nacho bar for our church family and the surrounding community. In conjunction with the meal, a silent auction was held. The bakers got to work and prepared lots of goodie trays. Businesses generously offered some wonderful gifts. Crafters were busy crafting fun items, and others made fantastic theme baskets.

The afternoon was very exciting for Jerome, Joanna, and me; we were able to share our joy with others, who had been waiting alongside us for so many years. At the end of the day, the totals for the benefit were shared, and we were overwhelmed. After I had dried my tears several times, I jokingly told Joanna, “We won’t have to swim across the ocean to bring your sister home.” One of our church members said, “Isn’t it incredible what a bunch of small-town farmers can do?!” I replied, “I thank God for each and every one of our small town farmers.” These “small-town farmers” are my family and not just because they’ve done a benefit for us. They have shared our sorrows, grief, and tears while we waited to add another child to our family. They have prayed for our family and cared for us in ways they don’t even realize.

I am blessed to worship each Sunday with my church family. I confess the Christian faith in the Triune God with my family. I kneel at the Lord’s table to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ with these family members, young and old alike. I am eager to introduce our new daughter to her extended family – our church family at Trinity Lutheran Church. They have hearts that overflow with love for one another, and I am blessed to love each one of them right back.

My Prayer for You

This blessing was spoken last night during our Christmas Eve service. It is also my prayer for you, our dear readers, and my fellow hosts. May you all be filled to the full this coming year.

May He who by His incarnation gathered things earthly and heavenly into one, fill us with such joy that comes with the knowledge of the forgiveness of sins and the hope of eternal life. And the blessing of God Almighty–the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit–be upon you and remain with you always.

Merry Christmas!

The Child Within You

Christmas Eve is always special for me. A manger is placed in church, and the children gather around to worship the Christ-Child. They sit in awe and wonder at this tiny Babe, who would save the world. The smaller ones play with the straw, and others stroke the cheek of the infant. In that moment, I feel pain. There is no infant for me to cradle. There is no tiny finger to grasp around my own.

However, there is still joy for me. I do have a child within me; He is Christ the Savior. At my baptism, I was made a child of God. All of my sins of thought, word, and deed were cleansed and removed. Yes, I am still sin-sick, but I have the forgiveness of sins, too.

There are times that I don’t “feel” Christ in me. That is my sinful nature at work. However, I will still confidently confess Jesus as my Lord and Savior, despite my fears and doubts.

Jesus Christ is Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” He is with us always. How blessed we are to know that the Christ-Child of the manger is the same Christ, who would sacrifice His own life on the cross to take the punishment for our sins. Jesus Christ is the Child for me and within me.

On the Night before Christmas…

…everyone turned in their blog posts.

Just a quick reminder:

What: Second Annual Writing Contest
Who: Anyone and everyone (women, men, married, single, barren, and blessed) can submit a post.
Topic: “My Suffering Is a Blessing”
Rules: 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.
Prize: Winner will receive a free copy of He Remembers the Barren and a SURPRISE! The top three finalists will also see their posts featured on our website.

Love and joy come to you,

Your HRTB Hosts

Think, think, think.

Tattling Trees

My husband and I recently attended a Christmas party hosted by a lovely couple in their autumn years of life. As the wife showed me around their festive home, she pointed out the various ornaments on the trees they had decorated in each room.

“We made all of these ornaments by hand.” She pointed to the tallest tree in the living room. Each ornament had been wrapped in a lush fabric and adorned with colored beads and shiny ribbons. The effect was regal and folky at the same time, like a Russian ballroom before the revolution.

“My students gave me these,” she smiled. This tree was smaller and shinier, teeming with tinselly holiday fare from the fifties and sixties.

As my hostess showed me everything that twinkled and glowed, I noticed something. None of the trees in the house graced ornaments made by beloved daughters or sons. I suppose I have a nose for this kind of thing, because my tree is absent of such fare, as well. I took a risk.

“Do you have any children?”

“No,” she said rather flatly.

“We haven’t been blessed with children, either.”

She turned around to look at me. “It used to hurt really bad, but then…”

I watched her search for the right words. “But then you realized you have life to live?”

“Yes.”

I looked around at her trees filled with memories of students, friends, parents, siblings, and time spent with her husband. Life to live, indeed.

Gaudete and Counting

This is it, the blessed third Sunday in Advent.

Today, we garnish our Advent repentance in church with a hearty “Rejoice!” in the Introit. We also light the rose candle in our wreaths in joyful anticipation of the coming Christ child.

Do you know what else we remember today? We remember that December 25th, the deadline for HRTB’s Second Annual Writing Contest, is quickly drawing nigh. There are only nine days left to perfect your submissions.

So, light your rose candles, sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” and get busy organizing your 600 words or less on the topic “My Suffering Is a Blessing” into the best post ever. We can’t wait to read what you have to say.

Happy Writing!