Sustaining Grace

If you ever feel like you can't catch a break, or even catch your breath, you are not alone.

If you are constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop because you feel like it usually does, you are not alone.

If you feel an unexplainable sense of peace and hope in the midst of your fear and doubt, you are not alone.

Life is not easy. Losing David rocked my world. His loss made life's blessings sweeter than ever before, but it also made me keenly aware of my fear of losing those blessings. I guess that I used to think that God would never let that happen to me because I was His child. When this false idea of security was abruptly ripped away, I found myself living in a new reality, and sometimes it is really hard.

One day during a session with with my grief counselor, I was telling her about my fear that God might take Tom, Benjamin or Caleb. She looked at me and said, "Rachael, just because God took David doesn't mean that He will take Tom, Benjamin or Caleb." "You are right," I replied, "but it also doesn't mean that He won't."

And therein lies my daily dilemma of trusting in the goodness of God and enjoying the fullness of His blessings, all the while knowing that the only thing that my Jesus has guaranteed me is that He will never forsake me.

Thankfully, God has demonstrated His love for me in many tangible ways along this journey, and one of those ways has been through family and friends who have come alongside me to love and encourage me.

One of those dear friends is Tonya. Tonya and I met through Dr. Joe nine months ago. Dr. Joe knew that I needed a friend. I had had all I could take of physicians, geneticists, statistics and worst case scenarios. I was fed up with people referring to my David as a fetus. I was a mommy who was losing my baby, and I needed someone to care.

In came Tonya. She lost her baby boy Grady in November 2008. She knew what it was like to walk through this nightmare, and she cared. She cried with me. She said, "I know." She made me feel a little bit less alone.

At the beginning of the year, Tonya found out that she was expecting another baby, due the first of September. However, her little one was recently born seven weeks early. He has done extremely well despite his early birth, but it hasn't been smooth sailing. Against the odds, Tonya and her husband were told that baby Matthew has a brain bleed.

I confess that upon hearing this news, I was angry - angry with God. Who else could I be angry with? I did not understand why Tonya could not catch a break just this once. Of all people, I thought she deserved a break.

Well, the truth is that she did get break. She got a huge blessing in the form of a beautiful, alive baby boy. All things considered, Matthew is doing very well, and the doctors do not seem to be too concerned about the bleed. I think that Matthew even came home from the hospital on Friday. God is good.

Sometimes, I just wonder why it seems like some people get to coast through life while others go from one trial to the next. Why does it feel like there always has to be something that is hanging over our heads - some ticking time bomb that we are on edge about, waiting to see if it will detonate or diffuse?

I do believe, against my stubborn will sometimes, that this is an act of God's mercy and grace. If I am allowed the opportunity to coast, then believe you me, I will take every advantage of it. I like to be independent and self-sufficient. But God knows that my independence is actually rebellion, and as a gracious and loving Father, I do not believe that He will allow me to get by with it for long.

I am thankful for courageous friends like Tonya who continue to hope and trust in God in the midst of fear and doubt, and I am thankful for the hope and peace that He grants me in the midst of my angst. It is truly his sustaining grace.

What is sustaining grace?

Not grace to bar what is not bliss,

Nor flight from all distress, but this:
The grace that orders our trouble and pain,

And then, in the darkness, is there to sustain.

~John Piper

The One

A couple of weeks ago, Benjamin had an end-of-the-season baseball party. As a final hurrah, the coach took the team outside to play some baseball. Our little Caleb was not far behind. He is usually two steps behind Benjamin wherever he goes. He wants to be just like his big brother.

Somewhere along the way, Caleb grabbed hold of a batting helmet. I don't know where he found it or why he decided to put it on, but I will always thank God for it. It may well have been the helmet that saved his life.

A few minutes into the game, Caleb (again, two steps behind Benjamin) was hit in the head with a baseball bat by his beloved big brother. It was an accident, but the motive or lack thereof did not decrease the severity of the hit. The blow was so hard that it caused the helmet to bruise the left side of Caleb's forehead just in front of his temple.

Caleb is a pretty tough cookie, but he cried long and hard. Knowing that head injuries are not to be trifled with, I immediately called the pediatrician to see if I should take him to the hospital. After asking me twenty minutes worth of questions, the nurse told me to keep a close eye on him. Believe me, I did.

I am no longer under the illusion that my life or the lives of my loved ones are invincible. To the contrary, I am well aware that life is incredibly fragile and that the thread between life and death can easily be cut in a moment's time. I try to embrace the gift of each day, each hour, each moment with those I love, knowing that tomorrow is no guarantee.

Caleb's head has healed, and he is fine. No permanent damage was done. But I refuse to walk away without pausing to say, "Thank you, God! Thank you for sparing my son's life. Thank you for giving him a helmet to protect his head." I do not take for granted this gift from God. I do not take for granted the blessing of a stubborn toddler who insisted on wearing a helmet for reasons that I will never know.

It is human nature to point the finger at God when things fall apart but to fail to thank Him when things go well. So many times, I am guilty of this mentality. "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" (Job 2:10). Why is it that when a single plane crashes, people ask, "Where was God?" But when thousands upon thousands of planes fly the airways safely each day, hardly anyone says, "Thank you God!"?

I am reminded of the time when Jesus healed ten lepers, and only one came back to thank him. Then Jesus answered,"Were not ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God?" (Luke 17).

Today, I want to be the one.

My Pride & Joy

When I lost my grandparents, I mourned the loss of the many memories that we shared together, but in losing my David, I am mourning the loss of the many memories that we will never share. I know that everyone can relate to loss, but I also know that it is hard for some to relate to the loss of a baby. From an outside perspective, I guess that it may seem "easier" since we did not have time to become too "attached."

Well, I can only speak from my own experience, but I can tell you that losing my David has not been easy. It has been lonely and difficult. I cannot even stand to be within earshot of a crying baby without getting sick to my stomach. The reality of his loss is nauseating to me. No one knew him like I knew him. No one but me spent every waking and sleeping moment with him for nine months. No one else had the privilege to feel his every movement - no one but me.

I am sorry that I did not get the chance to introduce him to you. Like any new baby, he was my pride and joy. When Benjamin and Caleb were born, my greatest joy in life was to show them off to everyone who would give me the time of day. Well, I never got the chance to "show off" my David. So, this post is dedicated to doing just that.

I realize that it is a poor substitute to carrying around my beautiful baby boy with soft black curls and introducing him to every person that I meet, but this is all that I have. So, here goes my meager attempt to "show off" my precious son, David Nathaniel.












Special thanks to Oana Hogrefe Photography for capturing these priceless moments for our family. You captured every detail and every emotion with such elegance and authenticity. We are eternally grateful for you.

Divine Despair

I don't know about you, but I love music. It touches my soul in a way that nothing else can. Two of my all-time favorite songs are Magnificent Obsession and One Pure and Holy Passion. Though I have sung these songs hundreds of times over the years, they never get old. I think that the reason that these songs mean so much to me is because I feel that they reflect the cry of my heart.

Now, I have a new favorite song. I Asked the Lord by John Newton:

I asked the Lord that I might grow,
In faith and love and every grace,
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.

Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He I trust has answered prayer.
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favored hour,
At once He'd answer my request.
And by His love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins and give me rest.

Instead of this, He made me feel,
The hidden evils of my heart.
And let the angry powers of hell,
Assault my soul in every part.

Yeah, more with His own hand, He seemed,
Intent to aggravate my woe.
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Cast out my feelings, laid me low.

"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried.
Wilt Thou pursue Thy worm to death?"
"Tis in this way" the Lord replied,
"I answer prayer for grace and faith."

"These inward trials I employ,
From self, and pride, to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayest seek thy all in Me."
—John Newton

Friends, for many years, I asked God to "give me one pure and holy passion", to "give me one magnificent obsession." Namely, I asked God to give me more of Himself. Truly, God is answering my prayer, "but it has been in such a way, as almost drove me to despair" (John Newton). The process of pruning has required my Father to "cut through these chains that tie me down to so many lesser things" and to "let all my dreams fall to the ground until this one remains" (Steven Curtis Chapman).

I have kicked and screamed all throughout this process and probably will continue to do so. Oh, how painful it has been and continues to be! Though I suspect that my tantrums probably appear to God as the fits of a toddler to his parent when things don't go his way, I do not doubt my Father's love for me. In the same way that I smile and shake my head when my Caleb throws a temper tantrum, I know that my Father is smiling upon me with His all-sufficient, all-knowing love. You see, I love my child too much to let him get his way when I know that it will only harm him. How much greater is the perfect love of my Heavenly Father towards me.

The Song of Sorrow

The past two weeks have been terribly difficult for me. The first and second day of May marked the 2-month anniversary of David's birth and death. As each new month begins, my soul is assaulted with the reminder of my precious David's painfully short life. Sometimes, I feel like it has been an incredibly long journey, and other times I feel like we just lost him yesterday. But mostly I just feel sorrow.

I feel like such a different person than I did a few months ago, and frankly, I am not too fond of the new me. Recently, I had an emotional breakdown when a close friend of mine told me that she is pregnant. Why? I wish that I knew. I am not really sure. For some reason, I just completely fell apart. It was as if a boil had been festering in the pit of my soul, and it suddenly burst open.

I used to be this really stable person who just let things "roll" off my back. I liked to think of myself as a shelter that others could depend on when the storms of life were closing in. Well, sorry friends, not anymore. Not me. Not now.

I feel a little bit like Emma Thompson's character in "Sense and Sensibility" (Elinor Dashwood). Throughout the movie, she is incredibly strong, though she is quietly bearing the heavy burden of a broken heart. However, at the end of the movie, she bursts into tears, crying uncontrollably. Her emotions finally get the best of her. This is how I feel, except that Emma Thompson's emotional outburst is endearing; mine is not.

People keep telling me that this struggle will change me for the better. I hope that they are right because I have yet to see the "better." Right now, I am just trying to figure out who this strange person is that has moved into my body because I do not feel like I know her very well. I recognize her voice, but she is singing a song that I do not know - the song of sorrow.

I am told that this song will begin to fade as time passes, but it will never stop playing in the background. As I stop and look at the world around me, I wonder how many others are singing this same song. I wonder why it is that this song is so unrecognizable. I remember hearing a line or two when my grandparents passed away and a few notes on occasion when listening to a tragic story. But now, I hear the entire song playing over and over again, and the tune is very different than I had imagined it to be.

I hope that as time goes by, the notes will slowly begin to sound sweeter. Yet, I know that the song will continue to be out-of-tune until the day that I see my Savior face-to-face. The wisest man that ever lived once said, "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart" (Ecclesiastes 7:2-3).

My sorrow feels dreadfully painful, and I admit that I do not understand how all of this pain could be good for my heart. But the other day my sweet husband reminded me that my Heavenly Father has "kept count of my tossings" and "put my tears in [His] bottle" (Psalm 56:8). What sweet relief to know that not one of my tears has been wasted. My Father has stored every one of my tears in His bottle, and He will use these very tears of sorrow to water my dry and weary soul.

Words of Life

In March 2007, I attended a women's retreat lead by Judy Reamer. Judy is a Messianic Jew with an amazing testimony about how Christ drew her to Himself. She spent most of the weekend talking about the importance of reading and knowing God's Word. I was ripe and ready for the hearing. I had just finished three grueling years of law school during which time reading the Bible had taken a backseat in my life.

I walked away from Judy's message inspired and determined to know God's Word. I read through the entire Bible three times that year. Looking back, I can see that God was using this time to prepare me for combat. In His infinite wisdom, only God knew the monumental battles that lurked around the corner of my life.

In September 2007, Tom enrolled in seminary and left his full-time job. The two years that followed this transition were marked with turmoil, and there were moments when we were unsure whether or not our marriage could survive such tremendous stress. We were "struck down, but not destroyed ... constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus could be manifested in our mortal flesh" (II Corinthians 4:9-11).

During this season, I began to learn what it meant to crucify my flesh with its passions and desires (Galatians 5:24), and allow me to let you in on a little secret - it was ugly. I had no clue that so much disgusting sediment was lying in the dark recesses of my heart. Learning to die to myself has been an agonizing process.

Last autumn, we began to see light at the end of the tunnel as Tom was finishing seminary. But before our battle wounds had opportunity to heal, we were struck down with the devastating news that our baby boy had a fatal condition that would not allow him to survive outside of my womb. God had promised that He would not give us more than we could handle, but there were moments when I was not sure that I believed this promise to be true.

I can relate with Jesus' disciples in asking, "Lord, this is a hard teaching. [How can I] accept it?" The enemy has tempted me to give up, telling me lies that God is not really good. Through my darkest moments, the Word of God has answered my many questions with the most important question of all, "Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life. I believe and know that you are the Holy One of God" (John 6:60-69).

I have spent many moments questioning God and His goodness to me, and I know that if there are ever to be any answers to my questions, God Himself is the only one who can supply them. I will probably never fully understand why God has orchestrated this turmoil in my life, but He has given me brief glimpses into the goodness of His sovereign plan.

In the darkest valley of my life, I am learning that only the Word of God can provide hope and healing to my broken heart. Through the reading of His Word, God is making me "like a tree firmly planted by streams of water," rather than "like chaff, which the wind drives away" (Psalm 1). Therefore, I must continue to "hold fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain" (Philippians 2:16).

True Prosperity

A couple of years ago, I watched a YouTube video of John Piper adamantly opposing the prosperity gospel. If you are not familiar with the prosperity gospel, it is a term used to describe a false gospel that teaches that if you believe in Jesus you will have health, wealth, and prosperity. In other words, if you want to live a life of ease and comfort, then play your cards right with God, and you will be blessed.

I strongly agreed with Piper's opposition to this false doctrine and was indignant that people portrayed Jesus as some sort of cosmic vending machine. My new favorite Bible verse became Psalm 73:25-26, "Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Piper said that Jesus alone was all satisfying, and I wholeheartedly agreed ... or so I thought.

Apparently, my conviction that Jesus is all-satisfying was not as rock-solid as I believed it to be. You see, I was living life "at ease, and he broke me apart; he seized me by the neck and dashed me to pieces" (Job 16:12). I am learning that it is one thing to say that Jesus is enough, but it is quite another thing to live it when God shakes you to the very core of your being.

In his song Questions, Steven Curtis Chapman asks, "Who are you God? For You are turning out to be so much different than I imagined. And where are you God? Because I am finding life to be so much harder than I had planned. And where were you God? I know you had to be right there. I know you never turn your head." These are my questions too.

Since learning of David's diagnosis six months ago, I have been wrestling with God. There are no easy answers and no platitudes to make me feel better. I either believe in the God of the Bible, or I don't. I either take Him at His word, or I don't take Him at all. I cannot make God into my own image. I cannot take the parts that I like about Him and leave the parts that make me uncomfortable. It is all or nothing.

When I left my 20-week ultrasound appointment, God had not changed. The same God who walked with me into the hospital with David alive in my womb was the same God who walked with me out of the hospital with David's lifeless body cradled in my arms. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). God has not changed; I have changed. My faith has been put to the test. Thank God that He is able to keep me from stumbling, and to make me stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy (Jude 1:24).

Hebrews 11, the great faith hall of fame, says that some "through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection ... Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated ... And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect."

Destitute ... afflicted ... mistreated? This is certainly not what I had in mind for my life. I like health, wealth, and prosperity. I like being comfortable, and I want God to bless me. God has blessed me tremendously, and I do not want to discount His provision, but I am learning that my ease and comfort are not God's primary objectives in my life. He is pruning me so that I may bear fruit, and it is a painful process. God is the great surgeon who is using His scalpel to perform open heart surgery on me.

And, when all is said and done, I believe that I will have true prosperity - abundant life in Jesus that allows me to face whatever he brings my way with the confidence that "my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth" (Job 19:25).