Anxiety. Mine has gone through the roof during the Covid crisis. With our primary income deriving from music lessons, I mentally spiraled out of control, assuming and expecting the worst. Without steady income, people rarely continue to pour money into their hobbies and I feared my husband's students would drop their monthly lessons. And now as Colorado and other states gradually reopen, we're facing the unknown of heading back out into the world together. Anxiety can attack from every angle. This experience reminded me of my time at the fertility doctor. A time when anxiety became a daily occurrence. Fertility doctors (I've had three!) tend to make promises that they cannot keep, for example, telling you that with their help they see no reason you cannot conceive a child. When you are in a state of desperation and someone offers you your dream, you believe every single word that comes out of their mouth. But as I began the monthly routine of jumping through the hoops, one hoop failed, then another. My hope diminished with each failed attempt and was then tainted with fear. With reality. With distress. The worst part though was the two week wait after each procedure. Transforming my hope into an emotional yoyo string. Each twinge, each change in my body, was a sign to be interpreted. Is this a good twinge? One that will give me all I hope for? Or is this a twinge meaning all hope is lost... again? Or, better yet, is this just gas? There was so much that I could not control during my time at the fertility clinic, but hardest of all was discovering that I could not control my mind. My thoughts would go into overdrive with a litany of “What if's” that defied repression. What if I can never have a biological child? What if something is truly wrong with my body? What if I was pregnant, but that drink/food/exercise (fill in the blank) caused me to lose the baby? Which is torture because “What if's” have no answer. They will forever and always be hypothetical. They offer no answer and thus no help. Yet I cannot shut them off. By the end of the two weeks I am a stressed out, anxiety-ridden mess. Which I am aware is harmful for my body while I'm trying to conceive, which then causes me more stress and fear, leading me deeper into the endless cycle of anxiety. Is there any hope to live differently? Any hope to live with peace? I turned to Philippians, the “joy” book, as there are 16 references to joy and rejoicing within it's pages alone. Philippians also contains one of the go-to verses on anxiety. Philippians 4:4-7 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. 5 Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; 6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. The first six words in verse six stun me. Do not be anxious about anything. Really? No anxiety at all? That seems impossible. The Greek word for anxious here is merimnao, translated as “to be anxious or careful.” This word has predominately been translated as anxious since we no longer use careful in the same way. (KJV uses careful) But I love looking at this other definition: Careful. To be careful means to be full of care or caring too much. (MacLaren Expositions) I think this perfectly describes anxiety. Being so weighed down with fears, unknowns, unanswered questions, circumstances out of our control. So full of care for friends, family, our job, our future, etc, that you can't even think straight. Or remember the Good God in control of it all. And what is the suggested antidote sanctioned by Paul? But in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.(vs.6) Prayer. It sounds too simplistic doesn't it? I literally wrote in my notes while studying this passage, “If anxious, pray. (...this seems too simple...)” My doubt rises in response to such simplicity. Prayer?! Yet this verse must connect to the words prior to it at the end of verse 5: The Lord is at hand. Or in other words: The Lord is near! We do not have a God who is enthroned in heaven looking down at us piously, unwilling to intervene in our petty lives. No. We have a God who is near to us and desires to hear our every request and supplication. He desires to know us, to listen to us, and understands what we experience in anxiety. (Consider Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.) And He wants us to be near to Him as well. Which is what prayer is. A connection, a relationship with another. Prayer pulls my eyes away from my overwhelming cares and reminds me I'm not alone with them. That everything does not depend solely upon me. I do not presume to have the cure-all for anxiety. But in my deepest times of anxiety and fear, I needed some “helps” to answer the incessant “What If's” and fears that plagued me. I needed something to help me remember the truth. Here is a list of ideas that I gathered:
Experiencing anxiety doesn't necessarily mean that you are sinful or are turning away from God. One of my dearest friends struggles daily with chronic anxiety and it is often during her most acute bouts with anxiety that she experiences God most powerfully. He is near, yet her anxiety rages on. I love that she reaches out to Him in the midst of it. Her wise words remind me that sometimes “God gives us JOY in our ANXIETY, not INSTEAD of it.” I can't promise that all your anxiety will disappear if you incorporate any of these options into your life, but I do believe that our anxiety can blind us to the God who is near. It can overwhelm us so that all we feel is fear; believing in the negative only. Whether you are going through fertility treatments or have allowed a fear in your life to speak louder than our God, you do have a choice to turn toward Him, rejoicing in Him. And I pray that as you do this, the fear and the “What if's” will quiet, giving you peace and joy, regardless of your circumstances.
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Sometimes I have what I like to call ‘dark days.’ Days where I bleakly look all around and whisper, “Is this all there is? Is this my life?” Days where Satan’s lies speak louder than any life-giving words from our God. Days where it literally feels like I am shouting my petitions to God and they maddeningly come echoing back to me, bouncing off an impenetrable metal expanse. Days where all around me is crumbling and it is arduous to even take one step forward. Days where I believe that I am utterly alone, abandoned by God. Dark Days. Can you relate? Do you feel as if there is some invisible ceiling that veils your words from God’s ear? As if He can’t hear you…or won’t hear you? As the months stretch into years of infertility, the dark days can multiply. The lie that God does not care for me feels like reality as my womb remains empty. For many years I hid my dark thoughts, fearful that naming them would brand me with the title of “failure” or “unfaithful Christian.” Good Christian’s aren’t supposed to doubt or question God, right? “All His ways are right”, so I just need to believe, smile and continue acting like all is well. But bottling up those doubts, pain, and anger festered within me, eventually leading to a break with God. Never once did I consider telling someone around me that I was struggling. Never once did I think about sharing with God how I actually felt about Him. It felt easier to pretend as if all was well, that I could continue to state that He was good, even though I was crumbling within. Never did I consider that telling Him exactly what I thought of Him would lead to a deeper relationship with Him. That honesty would lead to real faith. But it did. And it can for you. We must take our pain to Him. Our anger, our grief, our despair and name it out loud. We are hiding it from no one. Not from ourselves, not from Him. He already knows our heart and pushing it down does nothing to resolve it. Eventually it will come exploding out. So bring it to Him, tell Him all you are feeling. Accept the truth of your doubt, fear, and anger toward Him – name it and lay it at His feet. And let Him work within you. (I talk more about this in another post: Turning our despair into an act of faith.) Gradually I stopped calling God mean. I stopped boxing Him in, based on my experience of three miscarriages and a round of ineffective fertility treatments. I asked for His help to crawl out of the pit that encompassed me, pleading with Him to not leave me where I was, and I clung to the truths that Scripture declared about Him. Deep down I knew that I couldn’t define Him through the filter of my continued infertility. So I cried out to Him in my pain and anger, and went back to His Word to remind myself of His fuller character. Song of Solomon became my mainstay – my life-line, as it reminded me that I was Beloved. That I was His treasured possession. That He delighted in me. Words that were the exact opposite of my experience with infertility. But words that were true, regardless of how I felt. If you are struggling to maintain your faith with God, don’t condemn yourself. But don’t close yourself off either. Find a trusted, wise woman of faith to confide in and immerse yourself in Scripture. Speak your words of anger and pain to the face of our God and remind you of His love for you in His Word. Words of the Bridegroom to His Bride (of God, to you): “O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the crannies of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely.” Song of Solomon 2:14 “Christ isn’t asking us to believe in our ability to exercise unwavering faith. He is asking us to believe that He is able.” (Beth Moore, Praying God's word Day by Day) This opening quote to my devotional one morning was intended to encourage and give freedom. But all I felt was anger. This was of course coming off of another negative result from the fertility doctor. Everything during preparations and treatment indicated that a pregnancy would result. But nothing. And to make matters worse, I felt completely exhausted all week, which I took to mean that I was pregnant! I, of course, know that exhaustion can come from so many sources, but my hope ‘meter’ had gone up several notches. I expected a meltdown when I heard the news, but I remained rather calm. Maybe numb is the better word. The trouble for me in this quote is that I do believe that God is able. I have wrestled with faith. I know my faith or faithlessness will not persuade God. So, I think I have been erring on the side of ‘believing He is able.’ Doesn’t that sound so faithful? “God I know you can do it!” “I trust you Lord!” “I believe; help my unbelief!” And yet, no baby. I was angry. But I think I know why. As I sat and read this quote in my quiet time, I realized I had been manipulating God… again. “If I just believe that God is able, a baby will come.” I can’t seem to escape my conniving, my believing anything just so that I can be blessed with a child. I sound like an addict. But the truth is I had created some standard in my own head – a standard of what it would take for me to prove to God that I was ready to become pregnant. And when God didn’t fulfill His side of the bargain, I lashed out in anger. I apparently forgot that there was really only a bargain with myself. God wasn’t involved. He never signed a contract. (Man, I wish He would sign a contract.) Then at least I could pin Him down! Hold Him to what He has promised. But He has not promised me a child. He is not at fault here. I am. I am the maker of my anger and hurt. God has not failed me. But what does it mean that He is able? Is He able only if He gives me a child? I realize now that that is an incredibly narrow definition of His ability. It opens the door for my anger. But that's how it seems to work sometimes. All I can see is what I want, nothing else matters. My focus is so narrow that, when I don't receive what I have asked and prayed for, my first assumption is that God has failed me or is unable. What if there was more to His ability? I am reminded again of the hymn How Firm a Foundation. Last week I talked about the promises of God found in those life-giving verses, but the third and fourth verses in particular have always resonated with me. “When through the deep waters I call you to go, the rivers of sorrow shall not overflow; for I will be with you, your troubles to bless, and sanctify to you your deepest distress. “When through fiery trials your pathway shall lie, my grace, all-sufficient, shall be your supply; the flame shall not hurt you; I only design your dross to consume and your gold to refine. Based on Isaiah 43, these verses give me such hope and call me out of my self-focus. We will all suffer in this life; there is no way around it. And at times even God Himself calls us into deep waters. But these verses proclaim God's presence, power, and purpose within the midst of hardship. That is not inability on His part; it's just not my definition of His ability. These verses remind us that we may not receive all that we pray and hope for. What they do promise is that our sufferings will transform us, that through our Savior our troubles will turn to blessings, that we will be sanctified through our deepest distress. When we walk through fire it is not to cause pain, but to refine and shape us into His image. The fact that God has not given me a baby does not mean He is unable, it means He is working on me in ways that I may not even see. That I am being molded by Him, lovingly shaped, removing what hinders me from seeing Him alone. And at heart, I think that is what these verses bring out with regard to our suffering: I am reminded of who He is. I am reminded that God is able, but may be so in ways that I didn't originally see. I will continue to pray for my heart's desire, but I will also pray that God will open my eyes to seeing Him work within me, giving me a deeper understanding of His ability. How firm a foundation, you saints of the Lord, is laid for your faith in his excellent Word! What more can He say than to you He has said, to you who for refuge to Jesus have fled? “Fear not, I am with you, O be not dismayed; for I am your God, and will still give you aid; I’ll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand, upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand. “When through the deep waters I call you to go, the rivers of sorrow shall not overflow; for I will be with you, your troubles to bless, and sanctify to you your deepest distress. “When through fiery trials your pathway shall lie, my grace, all-sufficient, shall be your supply; the flame shall not hurt you; I only design your dross to consume and your gold to refine. E’en down to old age all my people shall prove my sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love; and when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn, like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne. “The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose, I will not, I will not desert to his foes; that soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.” This hymn has been playing in my mind for weeks now. I want to share with you what the Lord has been teaching me about myself and about His character through these ageless words. In the very first stanza the writer speaks of Jesus being our refuge. Refuge. Jesus. Has the Lord really been my refuge? If I was honest I would say that I have been my own refuge, and a shoddy one at that. I like to tell myself pithy sayings that will make me feel better. “God is good!” “God has a purpose for my suffering!” “God works all things for the good of those who love Him!” These are truths of the Lord, but they are not the Lord Himself. Statements about God never have much of a lasting effect. So I escape into a book or a movie, or simply make myself busy and distracted. And why do I do this? I think part of it is because I don’t trust in the promises of God, or more accurately, I don’t even know what the promises of God are. How can we trust that the Lord is a better refuge when we have no idea what that refuge even looks like? But that is where this hymn fills in the gaps of my faith. This hymn, unlike most hymns, is written from the perspective of God (stanza’s 2-6). He is speaking to us! He tells us who He is and what He will do for us. The promises of God are laid out for us in this simple hymn. In the second stanza alone there are seven promises, which draw directly from Isaiah 41:10. I am with you. I am your God. I will still give you aid. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will cause you to stand. I will uphold you by my all-good, all-powerful hand. Taking these promises to heart, changes how I experience infertility. I am not alone, I am not forsaken by God. Living out these promises, truly clinging to them as truth, changes my entire struggle. Those of us who rely on the Lord will never be deserted or forsaken, ever. That is by far the most incredible promise of all. Though I may feel alone in my struggle, I can cling to the promise that He has vowed to always be near. Refuge then is not a passive action, but it is an active faith as you place your sufferings in the hands of the Savior. Because of who God is and what He has done, we are able to put our faith, confidence, and trust in Him. Because we have the promises of God, we can face our sorrow with hope. I so easily forget who He is. My struggle with infertility becomes my filter through which I see the world and my God. His promises reframe my filter, opening my eyes to a God who is not against me, and who has gone to great lengths to remind me that I am loved. So, help me add to my list. What are some promises of God that have encouraged you? Found this wonderful website that brings this hymn to life with illustrated images. See here! I am going through a Bible study focused on infertility and the first chapter begins with faith. It’s a topic that makes me nervous in discussions involving barrenness. Inevitably the mention of Abraham and Sarah, Hannah, and Elizabeth get thrown around as our models for faith as we trudge through the sludge of infertility. Don’t get me wrong; there are many things to learn from these ancient people. But I’m not sure that this is what my/our situation of barrenness should be compared to. All except Hannah were visited by an angel of the Lord or given the promise of a future child. This is key. This is where their faith resided: in the promise given. Maybe you have been given a specific promise from the Lord for a child but, in my experience this is not a common occurrence. I certainly have not been given the assurance of a child and so this cannot be the focus of my faith. Hear me. I am not saying that God cannot give me a child. He is absolutely able to do so. But His ability to do so in no way guarantees that He will. I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s faith with this post. But I do want to warn against something: there are some who will urge us to be faithful, like those in Scripture, so that we too can receive the gift of children. Do you remember Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? Aside from their unfortunate - but rather lyrically comical names, many of us remember them as the friends of Daniel. Nebuchadnezzar cast the three of them into a super-heated fiery furnace when they refused to bow down to a giant golden statue of his image. The three friends remained firm in their singular worship of the one true God. Then, in a blind rage, Nebuchadnezzar tossed them into the fire, fully expecting their demise. Read the passage here. Daniel 3:16-20 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered and said to the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. 17 If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. 18 But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.” “But if not.” I freaking love this verse! Those three powerful words embody a faith that is unwavering despite the circumstances they face. As they confront certain death, looking into the pit of flames they are about to walk into, they bravely tell Nebuchadnezzar that God can deliver them. Yet, they humbly acknowledge that they serve a Sovereign God, not one to be swayed by man. They proclaim that their God is mighty to save, who can control fire itself, yet they do not presume that their outpouring of faith will necessitate a specific response from God. You see here a full comprehension of their Maker. They hold together God's power, love, mercy, and sovereignty all at the same time. They know that their God is not one to be manipulated. They believe that God can save them, but they also know that He has not promised to do so. And they accept this truth. Their short speech ends with an acknowledgment that they may not be saved, and that fact changes nothing. They will never bow down to Nebuchadnezzar. They will never turn away from their God. The outcome will not determine their faith. Incredible. As a child of God you are called to be faithful, but not for the purpose of having a baby. Being faithful for the sake of having child has two possible conclusions: 1) My faith and trust in God deepen, but I continue to remain childless, leading to despair. Or 2) as you measure your faith and see that it is growing, there is also a mounting sense that you deserve this baby because of your burgeoning faith. The hidden line of thought assumes that if I do A, then I receive B. My faith now demands and expects what I request. At heart level this is nothing more than a subtle manipulation of God. Our faith cannot rest in the idea that if you are faithful enough, God will give you a child. Our faith must be in God alone, who we believe is good and who works all things for the good of those who love Him. Sometimes the problem resides in our inability to actually name what ‘good’ is. My definition of good (i.e., give me a baby.) may not be God’s idea of good for me. This is where real faith begins. It begins with being faithful to a God who does not give us what we want. To believe that God is good even when He will not give us something that is so good in itself. Why wouldn’t God want to give me a child? This is a good request after all! I have really wrestled with this question and have found the reality of this truth hard to believe. I easily doubt that God has good in store for me when I am not given the one thing I desire. But that’s also where my faith begins to grow: When I stop gauging God’s love for me based on whether He gives me a baby. Ultimately, I am a child of God, and am beloved of Him who saved me. That is where my faith must stand: On this God who loves me, not on what He gives me. But therein also lies our struggle. |
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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