Yet Will I Trust Him

Each time we would sit in the ultrasound room and hear the “I’m sorry,” the words made us numb as we shook our heads in unbelief. Tears no longer flowed as anger and numbness became the go-to emotion. I could hear the cement around my heart hardening towards God. As I sat in that room after the ultrasounds waiting to meet with the doctor, I looked at my wife as tears would fill her eyes. I saw her fighting them back for my sake, and my heart filled with even more love for her. I saw the discouragement, and the great sacrifice she kept on making because she knew how badly I wanted a child. Early in our marriage I wondered if she really loved me because she was not the most physically affectionate person and that is how I received love. In that moment, the Lord let me see Shannon through His eyes, and the Lord spoke to my heart so clearly and said, “Don’t you ever doubt the love of My daughter for you again.” It was an “aha” moment. I saw her dealing with emotions I could not fathom nor help to ease. Our children were a part of her, and she ultimately had to process their death physically, as well as mentally and emotionally. I knew that I could never put her through this again. I hugged her with all the emotion I had left and said, “I am so sorry I keep putting you through this. We don’t have to try anymore. I am so sorry. I feel the pain you are feeling, and I don’t want you to feel that anymore.” I understood what Jesus meant about laying down our lives for our wives. That day I came to the realization that I needed to lay down my life and my dream of a child. I had to lay down my Isaac. We left that doctor’s office for the last time that day with tremendous losses, but we were closer than ever.

I now had to come to terms without ever knowing what it would be like to look down in a crib filled with a heart full of joy. I would never know what it was like to listen to the sighs as my child lay asleep in a crib. The thoughts of coming home to arms raised were a distant memory. I would never do the airplane gesture to get them to eat. I went through bouts of anger towards God. I didn’t want to be the guy that you looked at in sympathy while you hugged your own child and said, “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with what he is dealing with.” I felt that even God didn’t understand because I would tell him, “Even You have a son.”

I developed a pity mentality that God could only get glory out of my life if I suffered. I told God that I would never speak about this and in no way would He get glory from this if it were up to me. I was so frustrated, pouty to be exact. I was also conflicted because at the same time I didn’t want to make God like an unloving and powerless god. I hid in my own private dungeon of despair because I didn’t want people to lose their faith in Him. This was not a faith-filled, powerful testimony. Even though I wasn’t getting what I had long desired, I still loved God and believed the gospel. I felt robbed that my lot in life was for people to see us going through disappointment after disappointment and still hanging in there as some sort of sad inspiration. To make matters worse, we sat in church hearing songs with lyrics about God answering our deepest calls and coming to our rescue. As I heard how He is mighty to save and He can move mountains, I was saying, “But you didn’t, God.”
During this season, there were also times of refreshing when I would feel God comforting us. I felt like a child crawling onto his daddy’s lap grabbing his face with pain in my heart and tears in my eyes saying, “God, why are you letting this happen? Please make it stop.” Overall, these times of pregnancy and miscarriage would draw me close to God. No matter what situations, good or bad, if they bring us to God, in joy or in pain, then there is no better place to be. I came to realize that I had made having a baby an idol, and everything hinged on that coming to pass. You see, I learned that even in the godliest normal desire, if that becomes the ultimatum in which we serve God, becomes evil and idolatrous. We won’t come out and say that we are making something an idol- I sure didn’t- but we are.

Allow me to fast forward for a moment to a class I attended years later. In the class the instructor said, “Imagine Jesus walked into that room during those moments of trial. What would you tell him?” I was told to be truthful, and I will be brutally honest with you. I pictured Jesus walking in the room with eyes full of compassion for our hurt. My heart began to race at just the thought of that moment, and I was filled with such grief and disappointment that I admitted I would tell Jesus, “Thank you for coming, but if you are not going to fix this, then please leave. I don’t need another spectator. I need you to save us from this.” You see that I was not in a good place. I was unraveling, and nobody knew it but me. Secretly I was engulfed in a secret battle with God that I knew I couldn’t win. I was being crushed under the weight of my disappointment and frustration. My faith was being dashed on the rocks of broken dreams.