I’m writing today with an honesty that many may judge as unwise. A person who has never experienced deep grief may write it off as unbiblical. Modern-day stoics might question where my faith lies. However, a quick look at the Psalms would shed light on what it looks like to lament before God. Before you are words I long to say to the girl who is facing a similar road as me—the girl whose heart feels shattered under the weight of longing for motherhood. I write it for her, not me. And I write with tears for all of us: those who can’t conceive and those whose babies are in heaven.
Dear friend, who feels crushed by the negative pregnancy test in her hand, I weep with you. To those who haven’t experienced this grief, it may seem like one test—better luck next month. But to us who are walking through the thorn-filled path of sorrow called infertility, it acts as a dagger which pricks our heart, exposing the deep grief that lies within.…
My throat tightened, but tears failed to follow. You know that old feeling…when sadness wedges itself in your throat, making it hard to breathe. It’s like a century passes before you’re able to swallow down the sorrow. Behold the sign of familiar pain—the kind that almost always lingers in the background like a pilot light.
It’s a symptom of a heart that longs, a heart that’s sick, a heart where waiting feels endless.
Forfeiting God’s Best
Ever since I can remember, I’ve run away from pain. I try to avoid it at all costs, seeking ways to maneuver about unscathed by it.
My mind flashes back to another time—a time where a little girl carried on because she couldn’t swallow the pill her mom gave her. Her legs kicking, eyes swollen with monstrous tears. She—I—didn’t want to take the pill. I knew my body needed it. I knew my mom was only trying to provide what would heal my sickness.…
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Psalm 131:1-2)
I read these words from Psalm 131 and immediately the claws of conviction gripped my heart. I had been spending my time in the high and lofty places where “why’s” and “what if’s” permeate the air. It’s where weary souls go to question and demand knowledge which belongs only to the sovereign God of the universe. My pride was exposed; my distrust on display.
To be honest, the future scares me. I’m well aware of the risks at hand in this season we’re walking through. Some possibilities are small in the grand scheme of could be’s while others are life-altering. All of them, though, tempt me to fear the future.…
This article originally appeared on Whole Magazine as part of their Proverbs series. You can find it here.
A prominent theme found in the book of Proverbs is wisdom. It’s also filled from chapter to chapter with various warnings we must heed. In Proverbs 26, we see warnings against becoming four types of people.
Common sense (and the Bible) reminds me all of us could learn a thing or two from this chapter. I found myself convicted and I believe you may as well.
Don’t Be a Fool (Vs. 1-11)
According to Proverbs 26:11, a fool is one who returns to her foolishness again and again. She doesn’t learn from her mistakes, but rather, relishes in them. Honor is far from her (vs 1, 8) and those who link arms with her are made to be fools as well. (vs 6, 10).…
Before my mind could muster up some Christianese answer like, “God is good all the time.” or “You know, it is well with my soul.” my flesh spoke for me, “It sucks and I hate my life.”
I hated typing those words as much as you probably hated reading them. Words so ungodly I feel the shame of them even now. They uncover what lingers in my heart: discontentment.
I thought about the state of my hardened heart as I watched everyone at the table eat their cake. I envied the ease of being able to eat what you desire and bear no consequence. If I would have grabbed a slice, I’d be sick later, not to mention all the other symptoms that would erupt, including those which contribute to our fertility issues. Then my mind pondered the unbelieving women who pop pills and smoke or take illicit drugs as their bellies flourish with life inside.…
There’s a permanent indentation in my couch. The toll of first-trimester exhaustion from two pregnancies, as well as the miscarriages that ended them, has made its mark on our lives. That once new couch is just one evidence of it.
It’s been there from the beginning, delivered with it’s appalling “new furniture smell” as I fought off morning sickness. But as my nausea faded, along with the little life inside my womb, my body sunk deep into the fleeting comfort it provided. It comforted for a time, but as all false refuges do, it left me unsatisfied.
A Time to Mourn
As Solomon reminds us in Ecclesiastes, there’s a time and season for all things. Certainly, there’s a time to mourn and a season for healing, both emotionally and physically.
…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; (Eccl. 3:4 ESV)
When sorrow swoops down like a hawk in hunting, stealing our health, taking our loved ones, and breaking our hearts, we must weep for what was lost and mourn what will never be.…