I found something interesting in my reading today. I thought I was aware of all the women who struggled with infertility in Scripture. But Hemchand Gossai in his book, “Barrenness and blessing: Abraham, Sarah, and the Journey of Faith,” pointed out the two daughters of Lot. Some of you may know this story already, so stay with me!! In Genesis 19, Lot and his daughters escape from the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. They flee to the hills and make their home in a cave, far from any people. More specifically, they are far from any eligible bachelors for the daughters to marry. With their prospects bleak they concoct a plan to get their father liquored-up on wine so that they may seduce him and become pregnant. Not exactly a story I have ever heard read in church, nor one that many Christians refer to. Now, obviously these women were not physically barren and there is no indication that they ever struggled with infertility. But what Gossai points out is that these daughters committed such a deplorable act with their father because they saw their future as barren. Their fiancés had been killed in Sodom, and Lot seemed to have no plans to leave their sheltered existence in the mountain cave. They were as good as barren if there was no prospect of a husband in the future. And it was this prospect of barrenness that moved them to desperation. They took their lives and futures into their own hands, believing, it seems, that God had abandoned them. I know this is an extreme story, but at the heart of it is a truth that I see even in myself. Desperation. Fear. Control. One of the hardest things about barrenness is that I can do nothing. Barrenness reduces me to a state of helplessness. There is nothing I can do to make myself become pregnant. Though I used to fool myself into believing that there was. You know: If I use ovulation sticks it will work. If I can get myself to just relax I’ll get pregnant. If I go to the infertility doctor then a baby is guaranteed. If I try alternative methods then I'll conceive. I could go on. But each month I am left in the exact same place. Barren and without a child. Finally, I succumbed to the truth; I have no control in this situation. There is nothing I can do to create a baby. No magic, no formula, no special prayer, no “better” Christian behavior can bring about a pregnancy. I know that seducing your father is not likely on anyone’s list of ‘how to get pregnant’, but can you identify with these women in the depths of their desperation? Have you found yourself doing things for a baby that you never dreamed you would do? I know I have. The sisters' desperation and need for a child drove them to act in a way they normally would not. It is a ghastly picture of idol worship gone awry. And it’s there where we can identify with them. Because we all worship something. As children of God we were made to worship Him, but when sin entered our world, this worship was directed away from God. We all have god-replacements, or idols. That thing that we must have or we believe will make us happy. The desire for a baby is mine, and may be yours as well. Of course the desire for a baby is not a bad thing. But when it becomes an ultimate thing, as in “I cannot live without this,” it has become an idol. And when I reach this point I find that, by a strange turn of events, I am being controlled by this desire. My need for a baby has become all-consuming, pushing me to the point of despair, hopelessness, anger, depression, and doubt of God. Described in that light, it’s not surprising that I will do whatever I can to get what I want. Again, I don’t think any of us would be pushed to such a horrendous act as Lot’s daughters, but I understand them in a way I never had before. When I look at my own heart, I see how I manipulate to get what I want, and become consumed with achieving my goal. We will spend thousands of dollars on fertility treatments, cut off dear friendships with others who have the life we want, focus all of our thoughts and prayers on this one endeavor, and turn away from God when He does not answer our prayer. I know I have become desperate at times. I know I can lose sight of what is true. Lose sight of the God who loves me. All I see is my desire for a baby and my plans to make this child come to fruition. If you find yourself in this situation, take courage. God already knows your heart's desire. He has seen your desperation and He has not abandoned you. But instead wants to redeem you from these disordered desires. Go to Him, confess your heart, embrace the forgiveness and ask God to help you go to Him every time your desperation for a baby becomes all-consuming.
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“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in You, my Lord. I will be joyful in God my Savior. For You Lord are my strength. You make my feet like the feet of a deer. You enable me to go on the heights. (Hab 3:17-19) I love the book of Habbakkuk because it shows a real man struggling with real circumstances. And through all his sufferings he does not stop proclaiming that God is Lord of all. Habbakkuk looks in the face of distress and hardship and grapples with a question: How, given these circumstances, can I still believe that God is good and in control? Habakkuk (And since I can’t ever type his name correctly he will be deemed Habby for the rest of this post!) begins his first sentences in chapter one with complaint. “How long will you not hear?!” “Will you not save?!” “Why do you idly look at wrong?!” I love the honesty. There is such truth in what he is saying. I know I have said these things and more: Desiring a baby is a good thing; why won’t you bless me with one?! Having a child is what a woman is created to do and I can’t?! Why?! It is unfair that others can have children so easily! I’m in pain here! It does feel like God neither hears nor desires to save. But throughout Habby’s book, we see God begin to work in him; to begin to shape his heart and mind to trust the God of the universe. The verses quoted at the beginning of this post are the last in the book. They complete a picture of a man who is still aware of the suffering and evil around him, but who has come to believe that God can be trusted. He boldly states that God is our strength and joy. (3:18-19) But how did he get to this point? How do you go from distrusting God to calling Him your joy and strength? The key seems to reside in chapter three where Habby begins to recount the mighty deeds of God that have been passed down from parent to child for generations. Stories of God’s saving acts as He led His people out of Egypt. Accounts of how He caused the sun and moon to stand still with Joshua. Awe-inspiring descriptions of how, by His hand alone, He formed the earth and molded its surface to His pleasure. Habby remembers who God IS. All of Him. His power and strength, His mercy and justice, His demand for holiness while still offering the gift of forgiveness for blatant sin. Habby remembers God's utter control over the whole earth, even over those He calls His own and loves with incomprehensible devotion. It is this knowledge that changes his heart and perspective of God. There’s a reason that Israel is commanded to remember the acts of God in their history: these accounts remind them of who He is and what He stands for. Because it is so easy to forget. So. Easy. To. Forget. In the midst of suffering all I see and hear is my own pain. I can’t see God or remember who He is. So I begin to redefine Him and His love in light of my hurt. And He never comes out looking particularly good or trustworthy. We can’t define God based on our experiences. Our anguish cannot be the filter through which we see God. But, man, is it hard to not do this! My experience seems like the real and absolute culmination of truth. But Scripture defines God in a very different way. And, honestly, if I look at my own history I can recount example after example of His love and devotion toward me. He is not a capricious God who haphazardly hurts His children. But when I am hurting it does feel like that. So I must remind myself of who God says He is in Scripture and look back at my personal relationship with Him. That is where I must start. Habby does just this and is transformed. This verse is on a note card in my car labeled ‘Baby’. On the card I have verses that I pray as I drive and this is one that I come back to over and over when I am heartbroken over my barrenness. These cards force me to remember who God is. This verse paints such a picture of physical barrenness: no fruit, no produce, no animals. The land is desolate, dead, and empty... just how I feel. Yet Habby reminds me that with God as my strength I can live this life of heartache with an assurance that God is good and is worthy of my trust. He helps me to bear in mind that the circumstances of my life are not to be the lens through which I view my relationship with God. Joy must be found not in the particular incidents of my life, but in the truth of God, who is Joy itself. Faith. What does this mean in the midst of barrenness? There are definitely some infertility books out there that tell barren women that they must have enough faith to conceive. I hate these books. How are they qualifying this supposedly perfect amount of faith?? Do they have some divine, magical faith-weighing scale? As a result of these books, every month - when she receives her dreaded period – a woman's first looming thought is that she has failed. Apparently she does not have enough faith. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Let me now state blatantly that our God is not a God of guilt. Of conviction yes, but of guilt? No. Guilt is soul killing and Godless. It keeps the focus on you and how you have fallen short, away from God. Guilt brings up a person’s fault over and over again, stamping their heart into the dust as they remain stuck in a cycle of self-damning remembrance. God often convicts us of our sin, but that directs our vision back to the Lord as we repent and turn away from our misdoings. It leads us to a relationship, to a person. Conviction leads to change, while guilt leads only to more guilt. I had a professor one time give an illustration of faith in class that forever altered my view. He told us that it was not how much faith we had that mattered, but where our faith was directed. It must be cast toward our Savior, Jesus Christ. He went on to explain that sometimes we are walking toward the Lord in faith, while other times we might be standing still, yet continue to have our eyes upon Him. There are also times when we are literally on our hands and knees crawling, barely grasping at an ounce of faith but, still, we are facing Him. It does not matter how much faith we have. Besides, there is no way to qualify such a thing. It matters only in whom you are putting your faith. Some of you may be putting faith in the hope that God will give you a baby. It is right and true to believe that God can do this. But maybe this is not what our faith is to be in. There is a difference between faith in God and faith in what He will provide. God may or may not gift me with a child from my womb. I have been given no special revelation that He has promised to do so. The question remains then: Do I have faith that God will give me a baby, or do I simply have faith in God, that He is good regardless of a baby? It has been difficult to realize that often my faith resides in what God gives me and not in Him alone. And when He does not give as I expect, I find my faith crumbles and I lash out in hurt and anger. I encourage each of you to look at your hearts, at your prayers, at your conversations with others. What is your faith directed toward: God or the gifts He gives? Take hope that God already knows where your heart is; He knows what you actually desire. And He does not condemn you for it. But He does call you out of your misdirected faith. He sweetly beckons you into deeper relationship with Him which, with or without a baby, will richly satisfy all of your deepest longings. |
AuthorHi! I'm Brooke. Welcome to Sing O Barren One! I began this blog after years of unexplained infertility that resulted in five years of trying, four miscarriages, one daughter, and continued secondary infertility. While in seminary, I dove into scripture to help me make sense of my pain and struggle. What type of God would allow this? What I found there changed who I was, how I perceived my struggle, and most importantly my view of God. I wrote this blog as an outpouring of my grief and to joyfully share all that God has taught me. Archives
October 2020
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