Posted on by walkingintheshadowlands

Tracing the Rainbow Through the Rain

Ethan’s Mom: Each year, Bible Study Fellowship sets aside the last week of our class for “Share Day.” This is a week where all class members are invited to share what God has taught them over the course of the last eight months of intensive personal and small group Bible study. It provides a sense of celebration and of closure for the study. This year has been an intense one: People of the Promised Land: Kingdom Divided. This study has brought us through 15 different books of the Old Testament, as we studied the period of Israel’s history after King Solomon through the fall of Judah to the Babylonians in 587 BC.

The material was more intimidating, but the fellowship and bonding in our discussion group was the same as previous years. Saying goodbye to the group you have walked alongside since September is always difficult. This year, however, is even more of an ending than usual for me. Next year, I am going to transfer from the daytime women’s class to the nighttime women’s class. The daytime class has a program for babies and preschool children; the evening class has a program for school aged children and teenagers. Next year, I, my husband, and four big kids will all attend BSF together, in different small groups but meeting in the same host church. I am confident this is a transition that needs to be made, but goodbyes are always hard, even if they are right.

As I reflect on the ending of this study, my time with this class, and my role as a group leader, a verse from our study of Isaiah comes to mind. In Isaiah 25:1 the prophet says, “LORD, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.” This post is my way of exalting God as I reflect and process through the ending of this study, my time with this BSF class, and my role as a group leader.

In a way, it is also a way of looking back and taking stock of my journey of healing this far. Saying goodbye to my BSF class feels very weighty because so much of my story as Ethan’s mom is all tangled up with my experience with BSF. I attended an orientation class in April 2016 to register myself, a 3 year old, and a 1 year old for the next year’s study. When I returned to the host church in August 2016, I brought my 3 year old, 1 year old, and a surprise set of twins in utero. BSF was one of the places I carried Ethan during our short time together.

The study in 2016-2017 was the book of John, and my group leader was Laurie. Our small group met in the Media Room of the church, surrounded by giant rolls of paper and baskets of craft supplies. After discussing the lesson, we would move to the sanctuary to hear the teaching leader’s lecture. That very first lecture included encouragement to remain faithful to studying God’s Word even when it didn’t make sense or left you with unanswered questions. Just act on what you do know and keep going. Those words have come back to me several times since that first lecture.

Studying John was a gift. The gospel of John has some distinctions from the three synoptic gospels, including the seven “I am” statements. That fall, I got to know Jesus in a deeper and more personal way by studying this particular book using the four step method of BSF. In the coming spring, I would need to draw on that knowledge more than I could have ever anticipated. I needed to know who He was in order to face the future that held unspeakable tragedy.

My group was also a blessing to me from day one. I was very nervous about the twins being born very prematurely, as I had issues with premature labor with all three preceding pregnancies. Laurie told me she was going to pray that the babies would make it to 36 weeks. I thought that was pretty optimistic but appreciated the sentiment. Just after the New Year, my boys were born at 36 weeks.

Two months later, Laurie and a couple of others showed up at our house with a huge basket of toys for the kids and gift cards to all manner of kid-friendly takeout or drive-through restaurants. I was so touched that they would see the kids’ needs as well as mine. Some ladies joined our meal train. Laurie watched #4 so that Ethan’s dad and I could visit the cemetery alone. One of the group members even took me out for a massage that summer, knowing from personal experience that grief is surprisingly physical in its manifestation.

Remember the teaching leader’s encouragement to just keep at it, even when you don’t understand? I returned to class much sooner than I think people expected. Just do what you know to do — well, by then what I knew and found value in was doing my lesson and attending class every Tuesday. The first week, our group was combined with another group due to Laurie being out. After the other ladies headed down to lecture, my group members circled up and prayed for me. I mean they prayed FOR me — I couldn’t even say “Dear God” much less speak any sort of coherent prayer, and they stepped in to offer prayers that I literally could not pray but wanted so badly to say.

The next week, our Scripture reading included the passage about Jesus’ burial. One of the questions was, “why do you think it was important that Jesus was buried?” I surprised myself by sharing my answer. “As a person who has recently spent a lot of time at a graveside, it is very important to me that he was buried.” As strange as it sounds, studying that passage of Jesus’ burial was the most meaningful thing I could have read soon after burying my son. I’m sure we went on to have meaningful discussions about the resurrection, but what stands out to me is that week we talked about how Jesus’ friends cared for his body and mourned the loss of his life.

The next study was Romans, from the fall of 2017 to the spring of 2018. To be honest, this is the year that is the fuzziest in my mind. I think that makes sense, as most of my physical, emotional, and spiritual energy was spent on survival. However, I think the gift of this study was a systematic, rational review of some of the basic doctrines of my faith. When I was questioning everything I thought I knew about God, I worked through a structured study of the New Testament’s longest book on Christian theology. It addressed my questions on a macro-level (Why do we deserve death? What is God’s plan for us?) so that I could begin to process through them on a micro-level (Why did this happen to my child? What is God’s plan for him? For me?).

In 2018-2019, I completed my first Old Testament study with BSF. This study was known at the time as People of the Promised Land I, and it covered the period from when Joshua led the people through the Jordan River to the Promised Land through the reign of King Solomon. This coincided with my experience at the inCompete Retreat, which I have referred to often on this blog because it was a definite turning point for me. I remember working on my BSF lesson while at the retreat, and it was about Joshua placing his foot on the neck of his enemies foreshadowing Jesus’ ultimate victory over death. God had promised the Israelites victory and possession of the Promised Land; however, they still had to fight the battle. That was analogous to my stage of healing — God had promised to bind up my wounds, but I had to participate in the healing process. God had promised to be with me in the battle to overcome the effects of trauma in my body, mind, and spirit, but I needed to start “doing the work.”

Part of that work was re-engaging with people and pushing back out of my comfort zone, which had shrunk substantially after Ethan died. So when I was asked to take on a leadership role in the next year’s study, I agreed with a good deal of hesitation. By this time, I was completely sold on the format and method of BSF and was really looking forward to facilitating a group discussion and participating in the weekly leaders’ meetings. I knew I wanted our group to be a safe place to share, but I didn’t know how much personally I should share about Ethan in a group of young mothers. That actually has been a concern each year I have served as a leader, but the first year was the most intimidating. This post details the circumstances surrounding the beginning of the year, and I found God to be faithful in equipping me to minister from within my “prison” throughout the entire year. I discovered that I really enjoyed being a GL and that, with God’s help, I actually did a pretty good job in that position.

The spring we studied Acts was the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. After evaluating all the risks and necessary precautions, our BSF class went virtual for the 2020-2021 study of Genesis. My group that year was surprisingly close, given that we never met each other in person until the last day of class when I hosted a lunch to celebrate the end of the year. I remember telling one girl, “Wow! I had no idea you were so tall!” It’s hard to gauge height while people are in a tiny square on your computer. This was one of two years when I really felt like my experiences with grief and loss were directly helpful to some of my group members. Genesis was an interesting study, and I really learned a lot from my group members and their perspectives. As an example of my many “light bulb moments” was the realization that I had always read Genesis 3:13 with a punitive tone in God’s voice, like I sound when I discover permanent marker on my freshly painted living room walls. But during the discussion, one member said, “What is this you have done?” with hurt, not anger, in her voice. Since then, I have tried to be aware of the tone of voice I hear when I read Scripture, trying out different emotions as I read tricky passages to see what fits into the immediate context and what we know about God’s character. Throughout the year, we persevered through technical difficulties and toddler photobombers, and I saw God answer some big prayers and use his people to encourage each other in profound ways.

For our Matthew study in 2021-2022, we were back in person and back in the New Testament. If studying John grew my love for Jesus, studying Matthew grew my respect for him. Jesus was truly an amazing teacher; he always had the right words, illustrations, and posture in dealings with a wide range of people. Several lessons helped me wrestle with some hurtful events at my church — allowing me to see the sin in my heart that has played a role and reminders that deepest needs are met by Jesus even when his followers get it wrong.

Another overarching theme was the upside-down kingdom of God. My group experienced this reality in a tangible and unforgettable way. Just before our first class, the substitute teaching leader let me know that one of my group members had received the results of prenatal testing that morning and was carrying a baby with Down syndrome. Walking through this study while she was absorbing this reality and preparing for her baby’s arrival was a high privilege. And even as this friend was wrestling through some difficult feelings, she encouraged me that my story, Ethan’s story, mattered. My group even brought me a hydrangea to class on March 1st, which fell on a Tuesday. It is planted in our Ethan garden at home.

Ten days later, this precious baby entered the world at 12:01 a.m. on March 10th. That was too much of a coincidence to not mean something, but it was a lot to process, especially when she ended up with the same heart defect as well. Her birthday is a sign to me that God will one day fully redeem that day, and her story of healing reminds me that God will fully heal all his children in due time. Through BSF and our study of Matthew, Baby E. and Ethan’s lives will be intertwined with each other in God’s beautiful story of redemption until His Kingdom comes in full.

I will go into details about this year in a second post, as this entry is already too long and I need space to work through some complex thoughts related to the Kingdom Divided. Spoiler alert: I am going to revisit a recurring theme on this blog and dive into a paradox. For now, I want to conclude this post by stepping back to take a view over the whole landscape of the past seven years.

I am amazed by all that I have learned and experienced through BSF since 2016. Not to mention what a blessing it has been to my children, which would be a whole other post. It hasn’t always been easy. Sometimes a comment during a discussion was hurtful, sometimes people’s personalities clashed, and sometimes the topic for the week seemed like really bad timing. I have been forced to look straight into the face of my grief more times than I can count, whether at home completing my lesson, in the group discussion, or in lecture. But just like setting a broken bone, pain is part of the healing, too.

God has used it all in his relentless pursuit of my heart — both my idolatrous, selfish, sinful heart and my wounded, doubting, grieving heart. Just like the people of Israel, I am tempted to forget God’s past faithfulness, both because of my sin and my loss. But Love did not let me go. He prepared for me to encounter His Word and His people through my local BSF Day Women’s Class during this portion of my journey in the Shadowlands, and I will forever be grateful.

O Love that Wilt Not Let Me Go

O Love that will not let me go,

I rest my weary soul in thee.

I give thee back the life I owe,

that in thine ocean depths its flow

may richer, fuller be.

O Light that follows all my way,

I yield my flick’ring torch to thee.

My heart restores its borrowed ray,

that in thy sunshine’s blaze its day

may brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,

I cannot close my heart to thee.

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

and feel the promise is not vain,

that morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,

I dare not ask to fly from thee.

I lay in dust, life’s glory dead,

and from the ground there blossoms red,

life that shall endless be.

George Matheson
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Talking about Trust

Ethan’s Mom: Our summer ended with an emergency room visit and overnight ICU admission for my husband. The chaplain who had helped me navigate the ER came by the ICU very early the next morning. She had been in the room when I was giving the doctor Greg’s medical history, which included Ethan’s sudden unexplained death. After asking for an update on his condition, she asked me some very insightful questions. We talked about how hard it was to trust a God who offers no guarantees of healing or recovery. She said that He does promise to make everything new but wondered aloud if that process might purposefully include pain.

I was thinking back to this conversation as I was trying to reflect on this year’s BSF study of the People of the Promised Land: Kingdom Divided, which began just a few weeks after my husband’s accident. The next to last question asked us to write one sentence summarizing God’s message to us during this study. That was a hard one, given that our study took us through a wide range of history, prophecy, and even poetry this year. We read over 5000 verses, many of which I had never read before. I learned so much that I struggled to even think of a single, coherent message, much less one that felt personalized for me – until I prayed on my afternoon walk for God to reveal what He wanted me to take away from this year. I was listening to my walking playlist, and the song “Keep Your Eyes Open” by Christa Wells came through my earbuds. A single line within the chorus jumped out at me like a flashing neon sign: Trust me. That was my sentence, two simple words. Trust me.

Of course it was. Once it popped into my earbuds, it was so obvious. I remember thinking at points throughout the last year that the word “trust” was showing up everywhere – BSF lessons, sermons, verse-of-the-day emails, everywhere. But how exactly did it manifest in our Kingdom Divided study?

One recurrent theme for this study was God’s sovereignty. He keeps His promises, He uses nations to bring judgment on other nations, etc. One week, a fellow group leader asked me if the idea of God’s sovereignty gave me any comfort, given my family’s experiences. The answer was so close to the surface that it flew out loud and clear before I could filter it: NO. I can accept that God is all-powerful, but that has not been a thought that has brought me much comfort over the past 6 years. In fact, when I hear “You are sovereign” uttered in prayer, my stomach still lurches.

I know rationally that the opposite would not be any better. If God is not sovereign, who is driving this bus? As Cameron Cole writes in his book, Therefore I Have Hope, “if God had nothing to do with my son’s death, then certain pockets of life – the really awful ones in particular – are given over to chaos because the God of the Universe is removed from them.”

I do, in fact, want God to be sovereign. But I also want Him to be good. Knowing someone is in full control of your circumstances is not very helpful if you don’t trust that person. How can I trust God when he ordained for my child to live for only 63 days? Cole goes on to say, “The matter of God’s sovereignty and goodness evokes tension…These paradoxes become far more confusing when they are your paradoxes.” Indeed.

I can see this tension played out throughout the historical narrative and, even more so, the prophetic books we studied this year. We heard prophecies of judgment and destruction over and over. The idolatry was out of control, and the stubborn people refused to repent and return to God. There would be a day of reckoning for all of their sin. That’s mostly what comes to mind when we hear about “the God of the Old Testament.” One of the biggest surprises for me this year was seeing the patience, mercy, and goodness of God before, during, and after the fall of Israel and Judah. “The God of the New Testament” was right there in every book as well.

In fact, many of the verses that end up on coffee mugs, throw pillows, and hand-lettered signs are actually from this portion of Scripture.

Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not grow faint.

Isaiah 40:30-31

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

Taken out of context, these verses appear to promise that we will be #blessed with never-ending energy, security, and love. But it is not all goodness and light. In fact, all of these verses are located very near some extremely hard to read declarations of judgment and impending destruction, sometimes in the very same chapter. As we moved through the divided kingdom, I could see the tension I have felt in my experience played out in the tension between God’s justice and mercy, His sovereignty and goodness, His protection of His people and His righteous judgment of their sin, and more.

At some point during the year, someone stated that God does not sacrifice one of his attributes and the expense of another one of His attributes. God is sovereign, but not at the expense of His goodness. He is good, but not at the expense of His sovereignty. Cole puts it this way, “God can remain fully in control during tragedies while still being completely good.” Sit with that for a minute and tell me it doesn’t make your head hurt.

But this study also included insights into the personal struggles of God’s people, particularly His prophets. Just a few examples: Elijah, after defeating all the prophets of Baal in a divine showdown, found himself alone and depressed to the point where he wanted to die. Hosea’s heart was broken by an unfaithful wife. Jonah ran from his assignment and then threw himself a pity party. Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, did not have enough tears to cry over the destruction of his people. Habakkuk questioned God and sat down to await an explanation.

I cannot resolve the tension; I can only sit in the paradox. While there, I cannot turn off my emotions or stop from asking questions. But God doesn’t ask me to do so. Our notes on Lamentations state that “the Bible encourages hurting people to verbalize hard questions and express profound grief…We should never hesitate to pour out our most honest grievances to God. Trusting God does not require ignoring anguish.”

However, even in the anguish, He invites me to trust him. One week later, the notes from our study of Habakkuk reminded me that “because God is who He is, His sovereign but mysterious ways can be utterly trusted…He can be trusted to reign over this world and your life. God’s holiness, might, compassion, justice, and faithfulness stand behind everything His sovereign will allows.”

Sometimes, His sovereign will allows The Worst. Cole ends each chapter in his book with a portion of the “Narrative of Hope” that he wrote after his young son’s sudden and unexpected death. The chapter on Providence ends with these words:

My trial is not a random accident. Nothing comes into my life but through God’s perfect discretion. God remains in control of all circumstances. He has a hand in my painful circumstances, which means that his hand can extend to redeem my life. God is good. The evil in this world and the suffering in my circumstances do not represent his character. The perfectly kind and loving person, Jesus Christ, is the very image of the character of God. The cross reassures me of his love and sovereignty. I can trust him, knowing that he is fully good and fully in control.

The perfectly kind and loving person of Jesus was described in Isaiah 53 as the Suffering Servant. The week we read that passage, I was struck by the first part of verse 4. “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering…” Not only our sin but also our pain and suffering. In doing so, Jesus expresses the height of God’s love and sovereignty. For now, I keep my eyes on the cross and await the day when I won’t have to hold the tension anymore. Instead, I will hold Ethan again. On that day, I will be so glad I trusted Him.

On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;

He will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
from all the earth.
The Lord has spoken.

In that day they will say,

“Surely this is our God;
we trusted in him, and he saved us.
This is the Lord, we trusted in him;
let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.”

Isaiah 23:7-9
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Prayer of Examen (for March 10, 2020)

Ethan’s Mom: Last year during a church wide emphasis on spiritual formation, I learned about the Prayer of Examen.  I wanted to try and apply that spiritual discipline on the evening of the 3rd anniversary of my greatest loss.  After I started writing, I thought maybe posting this would help someone who is struggling to see how God is working in his/her life even on a dark and difficult day.  To clarify, this is not an exercise I could have done on the first or second anniversary.  My journal entries around those days are full of painful questions and lament.  But there was a shift this year, and although I don’t know exactly how I feel about it, it was easier in many ways.  So here is my prayer from last night:

Everyone slept last night, so I was given the rest I needed to face today.  A full uninterrupted night sleep is never a given at this house.

I experienced your grace through Ethan’s Dad, who got up and started the kids’ morning routine without pulling me out of bed.  He gave me the time I needed to gather up my courage before rolling out from under the covers.

You prompted me to go to BSF today.  I walked into the foyer and K greeted me with a hug and a heartfelt prayer for peace and for the ability to see the good you would work throughout the day.  I’m not sure anyone has ever hugged me and prayed at the same time.  I wish my memory would allow a full transcription of the prayer; it was beautiful.

On the elevator, you reminded me of the strength you provide.  It surprised me that you wanted me at BSF this morning.  P told me on the elevator that she remembered me coming back to BSF weeks after Ethan died, how she appreciated my bravery and honesty in admitting that it wasn’t the easiest choice.  Other leaders hugged and told me they prayed for me in the morning.

My group members prayed for me and left messages of encouragement on the GroupMe chat, even the ones who just had babies yesterday.  Everyone who attended class participated, and I was blessed by our discussion.

You gave me the idea to ask L and S if they could watch the little boys while we went to the cemetery when I couldn’t figure out the best plan.  You moved their heart to enthusiastically volunteer, and you were there in the “birthday cake” and “carwash” games, loving on two of my living children through their undivided attention, on a day it is hard for me to engage with the kids.

When we returned, I had an enchilada left over from when one of my group members brought us dinner last night.  Then I also received a text offering to have dinner delivered to us tonight.  After praying last year for someone to bring us dinner and giving up when it didn’t happen, I was shocked to get not one but two dinners provided for us.  Two dinners.

We received text messages from people I didn’t think would remember.  Your grace allowed me to accept that we didn’t hear from others I thought would remember.  Along with cards from our parents and a few others, we received a homemade card from our daughter.  “Smile! I love you guys!” with a picture of the twins swaddled up inside, along with a heart that has a hole in it and a caboose, her two preferred symbols for her youngest brother.

And oh goodness, your blessings don’t get sweeter than the 4 kids we get to hold here on earth.  Hugs, silliness, and giggles brought smiles I wasn’t expecting to smile today.  Were they perfect?  No, but we had less drama than has been the norm around here lately.  Soccer was cancelled because of the rain, so our oldest son and Ethan’s Dad were home and we all ate dinner together.  Chick-fil-a was followed by caboose cookies — I still can’t believe my mom found a caboose shaped cookie cutter.  “Baking therapy” was nice, the cookies looked and tasted great, and the kids enjoyed them.   The sweetness of the treats reminded me of my sweet Ethan as well as your goodness.

We heard several train whistles.  My mom saw the first cardinal of the year on her fence today, and cardinals always remind her of Ethan.  My mother-in-law sent pictures of a hyacinth that a friend brought to them, praying that she would pick the one with twin blooms.  Thank you for being present with them in their pain of losing a grandson and watching their kids grieve the loss of their own child.

Have I missed anything?  Well, maybe the most important thing.  A real sense of Your presence.   Your presence with me as I mourned at Ethan’s grave alone yesterday and with us as Ethan’s Dad and I reflected on our feelings — some familiar, some surprising.  At the graveside, I heard your Spirit whisper to my heart, “Love is eternal.  Pain is not.  And not just the final end to pain that will come at the end of time but the gradual lessening of pain as I heal your heart.  It’s OK to allow the hurt to dissipate because the love will remain.”

You were close, and for the first time, that didn’t seem like a consolation prize.

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A Purpose in Prison

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Ethan’s Mom: This summer, I was contacted by the leader of our BSF chapter after being recommended for consideration as a group leader for this year’s study. For those unfamiliar with BSF (Bible Study Fellowship), it is a worldwide interdenominational Bible study that follows a specific format in all of its local chapters. Members interact with scripture in 4 ways each week — personally answering questions regarding a scripture passage, discussing their answers in a small group, listening to a lecture from the local teaching leader, and reading notes on the passage published by BSF. The study usually concentrates on a single book of the Bible over the course of a school year. I started BSF in 2016, and my first study was on the book of John. I could write a whole separate blog post on the ways I have seen and heard God work in my life through the blessing of BSF over the past 3 years. If you have read any other blog posts, you have heard us mention it before. I truly love BSF, and in many ways, attending small group and lecture has been easier for my broken heart than church services on Sunday morning.

But nowhere in the world is totally safe for a mother who has lost a baby. A sight, sound, or comment can bring me right back to the trauma resulting from Ethan’s death or the twins birth in a heartbeat. (Case in point — even typing the phrase, “in a heartbeat” carries such painful connotations for me, and I tried for a minute to come up with another phrase.) This is also true of BSF. Our class has many wonderful older or middle aged women in attendance and leadership, but a significant proportion of class members are young mothers who come and bring their infants and preschool children, who attend an excellent children’s program while the ladies are in group and lecture. After losing a baby, it can be very painful to see and/or interact with pregnant women or those with babies. Sometimes the things “normal people” express anxiety over or complain about seem so trivial in the shadow of the tragedy we’ve experienced. I see those moms that bring twins to class and think how I should be able to chat with them about the unique struggles of raising multiples, but I’m not technically doing that. I admit that it is difficult not to resent that those moms got to keep both of their babies.

Because of this, I prayed and discussed my concerns with Ethan’s dad before committing to lead a small discussion group. I felt like this was something that God wanted me to do, and truthfully, I was very excited about being involved with the leadership team and attending their weekly meetings in addition to our class meetings.

Then I received my class list. 13 young moms, 11 who had registered babies or preschoolers in the children’s program. When I called to introduce myself, I found out at least 3 will be bringing infants to group with them. In my mind, I started picturing these cute, stylish young moms with their perfectly delightful babies and toddlers in tow while I bring two boys and the shadow of someone missing.  These moms don’t need me and my messy theology.

The next day I attended the BSF Summit leader training simulcast with the other area classes. The day was filled with prayer and teaching, and at the very end, they showed a video. I admit, when it started, I wrote it off as cheesy BSF propaganda. The video was a dramatization of Audrey Wetherell Johnson founding BSF in the 1950s. Ms. Johnson had been a missionary to China, even suffering as a prisoner in a Chinese concentration camp during WWII. The video shows her in the camp, sick and cold, explaining to a fellow prisoner that all she wants is for people to love the book in her hands (the Bible) as much as she does. Then it flashed forward to a speech she gave to a ladies mission society after she had returned to California. She frets about what to wear, noting that she didn’t have to worry about being stylish when she was teaching pagans. After the lecture, five women ask her to lead them in a Bible study.  She returns home and complains to a friend that these women didn’t need her, they already knew the Bible. However, her attitude and demeanor betrayed her heart — she didn’t think those California housewives really needed her when so many others had “real” problems. “Why am I to give more to those who have so much?” she asks. The answer comes in a flashback to the concentration camp — a Chinese woman says, “I thought all you wanted was for people to love that book.” So she says yes, still unsure why the setting of her story changed from prison to the suburbs.

But God had a bigger plan. He grew the small Bible study into a worldwide movement that now has over 350,000 class members in more than 40 countries, including her beloved China. She couldn’t see the outcome in her lifetime, but God was faithful to honor her heart’s desire for the Chinese people as a result of her obedience.

My heart’s desire is for Ethan to be remembered, valued as a person and part of our family, and used in God’s kingdom, just as I pray that my living children will be. I don’t see how sharing him with people “who have so much” accomplishes that, but maybe I won’t know in my lifetime. Maybe God will use Ethan in ways that no one could even imagine today.

As He tends to do with important things, God brought this point home again soon after the summit. My mother-in-law gave me a wonderful book, “Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian” by Sarah C. Williams, a professor at Oxford. The author’s daughter, Cerian, received a life limiting diagnosis of skeletal dyspepsia at a 20-week ultrasound. Near the end of the book, Sarah describes an eye-opening moment after Cerian’s loss at a lecture on “the gift of self” given by a Catholic theologian. She had intentionally avoided inviting a colleague who had earlier insisted that not terminating the pregnancy was irresponsible and questioned if her husband was pressuring her to give up her “right to choose.” Sarah runs into the woman on the way to the lecture, and she decides to come along. The lecture sparks an intimate moment between the two women, in which Sarah realizes the reason her colleague no longer believes in God. She goes on to say:

“I realize looking back that I was in danger at that time of getting locked in my own sorrow and grief and cutting myself off from other people. My colleague showed me something important, and her friendship drew me out of myself. Everyone hurts. We all hit the boundaries of our capacity at some time or another.”

Honestly, it can be tempting to cut myself off from other people. Many times it actually feels like I was cut off from people through no choice of my own. Grief is incredibly isolating.  People have avoided us and made ridiculous small talk to avoid mentioning anything about Ethan’s death. I have found this to be true of acquaintances as well as close friends. But I know that refusing to acknowledge the joy or even the pain in others’ lives is no way to live. It is hard not to play the my-pain-is-bigger-than-yours game, but who wins?

I was starting to feel pretty good about all of this when I found out through a seemingly random chain of events that one of my original group members had twins. I asked the leadership team for details, saying that sometimes twins are hard and I would do better if I was prepared. Turns out, this lady has twin boys almost the exact same age as mine. I had to grab onto the counter to steady myself when I received the message. This was my biggest fear – that someone in my group would have twins, 2 year old boy twins at that! The leaders offered immediately to change her to another group without anyone knowing why, so all that was resolved before I talked to her. After the initial rush of emotions that brought up, I realized that God brought that to our attention prior to class time because it was beyond what I can handle at this point. “A bruised reed he will not break” (Isaiah 42:3).  I am pretty sure that would have broken me.

This whole roller coaster was leading up to this week, when our actual first BSF group Tuesday. My mental pictures weren’t too far off, actually. I’m sure they all graduated high school after Y2K and have never heard the distinctive sound of a dial up modem. I felt so old!

It was awkward to introduce myself as the mother of 5. One other woman has a child in kindergarten this year, the rest have kids 2 and under. Two women had babies with them. Two are pregnant, and both are also the mothers of toddlers so the statement was made that they would just be lining everyone up for diaper changes. Before I knew it, I commented that it wasn’t terribly long ago we had three in diapers. Adding in my head, “but that only lasted two months and then we had to donate the stockpile of size 1 diapers.”

So I came home again feeling the weight of balancing being honest and real vs. sharing too much with these women. I’m sure they don’t want to hear about a baby dying of SIDS; it just hits too close to home. I thought I had softened my heart towards them and was ready to be a shepherd to this group, but I didn’t feel very shepherd-y later that afternoon.

I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of the funk. People asked how it went — OK, not great but OK. It was a comfort to pull out the familiar format of notes and questions to start on at home, just like always. Then I read this in the very last paragraph of notes:

Ask God to grip your heart with the truth that He is fully in control and fully good. When trials come, remain in God’s Word and with God’s people. Ask Jesus to draw you close to Him and turn you outwards to others. How might your “prison” be part of Gods plan to make Jesus known and loved to the ends of the earth?

The prison reference is in regard to Paul, but it stopped me in my tracks. One of the comments I made several times in the early days of overwhelming grief was “I feel like I have been given a life sentence in prison for a crime I didn’t commit.” The rest of my life stretched out in front of me like an endless march of identical dark days. There was no time off for good behavior. There was no hope of freedom.

Knowing that, read the quote again. It starts with that tricky tension in reconciling God’s goodness with his sovereignty, a persistent theme in our blog posts. I knew the part about staying in God’s Word; that is what I thought the structure and in-depth study of BSF brought to me. I hadn’t considered that BSF is also a way to remain with God’s people. My experience may indeed feel like a prison, but prisons didn’t stop Paul from shepherding his fledgling churches. The only way I can proceed to turn outwards to others is with God’s provision, one day at a time. That is a recurrent theme as we walk in the Shadowlands, but provisional grace is a lot easier to write about than to trust. So I will leave us with this song/prayer for tonight:

“Give us faith to be strong
Father, we are so weak
Our bodies are fragile and weary
As we stagger and stumble to walk where you lead
Give us faith to be strong
Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it’s hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

“Give us peace when we’re torn
Mend us up when we break
This flesh can be wounded and shaking
When there’s much too much trouble for one heart to take
Give us peace when we’re torn
Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it’s hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

“Give us hearts to find hope
Father, we cannot see
How the sorrow we feel can bring freedom
And as hard as we try, Lord, it’s hard to believe
So, give us hearts to find hope
Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it’s hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong
Give us peace when we’re torn
Give us faith, faith to be strong”

Faith to Be Strong by Andrew Peterson

Posted on by walkingintheshadowlands

Some Lessons from the Book of Ruth

Ethan’s Mom: Confession – two weeks ago when I saw that our next Bible Study Fellowship unit was on Ruth, I was not super excited. Great, I thought. This is just a love story where everything works out for everyone, nothing like my life. Turns out, I had a lot to learn from this not-so-easy love story. So much, in fact, that not only was it the focus of BSF, it was also a focal point of a book I was reading with a small group of intergenerational ladies at church. It seems God really wanted me to pay attention to these folks, and I think I can see why.

For starters, let’s all take a moment to acknowledge that Naomi is not just a supporting actress in this drama. There is so much that Ruth’s mother-in-law and their relationship can teach us. I had not really paid close attention to her before, but then again, I had never identified with her grief before March 2017. First, she went to a foreign land with her husband and sons. Then her husband dies, and years later both boys marry and then they die as well. I think in order to familiarize modern readers with the cultural challenges that Naomi faced, the message that comes through most loudly is that Naomi was in a pickle because she had no income or that she was in despair because she was going to go hungry. No doubt the financial woes and uncertainty were a huge stresser, but that is not the whole story. She is grieving the loss of THREE people in her immediate family. The only three people in her immediate family. For the sake of argument, let’s assume she and Elimelech had an arranged marriage and maybe his death didn’t break her heart. Maybe she was so mad at him for moving the family to Moab that she felt like she lost her meal ticket but not her happiness. You can’t tell me, though, that she wasn’t torn to pieces over losing her sons. One of the sweetest relationships that has developed since our loss is my friendship with an older lady at church whose adult son died unexpectedly. The loss of an adult child may be different in some ways than losing an infant, but there is deep, unrelenting grief in both situations. That makes me feel like I can identify with Naomi in a way I never really identified with Ruth.

For instance, it may sound a little melodramatic when Naomi arrives back in Israel and demands that people call her “Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me.” (Rule 1:20).  Here she is, rolling back into her old neighborhood, seeing people she hasn’t seen in more than 10 years. There was no post office, much less Instagram. I’m thinking no one knows what has befallen her. She is likely telling the story over and over as she sees more and more people who inquire after her family or want to be introduced to this foreign woman she has with her. She is likely finding out that some of her old friends have bucket loads of grandchildren and are totally set for life. She has made a long, arduous journey with plenty of time to reflect on her situation and wishes that her husband or sons were travelling with her. I don’t blame her a bit for saying “I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty.” This is not a suck-it-up-buttercup kind of a moment; this is understandable anguish.

Do you know what is missing after this little pity party? A rebuke. Thanks to my husband for pointing that out to me. Naomi may not be theologically on target, but she’s being honest. This says to me that God can handle honest, even bitter honest, maybe even especially bitter honest. The important thing is not what she said when overwhelmed with sorrow when her arrival caused a “stirring” among the women in her old neighborhood. The important thing is that she had made the decision in Ruth 1:7 to “set out on the road that would take (her) back to the land of Judah.” She made the decision to move towards God in the midst of her fear and depression. It didn’t erase her pain immediately, but she was moving, one step at a time, toward the one who could bring redemption to her terrible circumstances.

Redemption. It’s a huge theme in the book of Ruth. It’s a huge theme in our lives walking in the shadowlands. Aside from the foreshadowing of Jesus as our kinsman-redeemer and all the beauty that entails, the story has moments where the tragic circumstances of Naomi and Ruth are redeemed by Boaz’s actions.

If there is one thing that parents whose babies have died want, it is for their loss to be redeemed in some way. There are bereaved mothers who have launched non-profits, written books, organized fundraisers or remembrance walks, etc., etc. We desperately want something good to come out of this because ultimately that gives us a way to share our little one’s life and legacy with others.

Side note: This is NOT the same as finding a reason for the tragedy – do not tell me that Ethan died so that this or that would happen. He is not just a pawn in God’s big chess game, and all the promises in the Bible that I can claim apply to him, too. That’s a whole other post, one that is probably better suited for my husband to analyze in this space.

Anyway, I have struggled with this thought since a few months after Ethan’s death. I have had ideas on how I can honor his memory, but nothing seems big or important enough to qualify as redemption, except things that seem impossible. I felt like God was saying to me through the study of Ruth that it is not up to me to do the redeeming. That’s His job.

Ruth has left her homeland and her family of origin after losing her husband. She lost so much. There is no reason to believe that she and Naomi were walking up the incline to Bethlehem talking about how great they were going to have it once they arrived. I’m quite sure they weren’t discussing how they might fit into the lineage of the Messiah. They were just doing what they felt was right in going back to the Promised Land and to the one true God. When they arrive, Ruth says she will go out and work for their food, and that’s just what she did. She went out and gleaned in Boaz’s field. Nothing glamorous, but she worked so hard on the task at hand that Boaz took notice of her work ethic and her devotion to Naomi.

God took her day-in-and-day-out obedience in the most mundane task, and out of that He brought redemption to Ruth’s life, Naomi’s life, the nation of Israel, and ultimately all humanity. I felt like He was pressing upon my heart that He wants my day-in-day-out obedience in the mundane tasks of mothering my four children on earth, loving my husband, and pouring into relationships with friends and family. Out of that work I have set before me, He will set into motion a plan to bring redemption in this lifetime to our loss, our pain, and our grief.

The story ends with Ruth and Boaz’s son, Obed, sitting in Naomi’s lap. Don’t you know that woman loved her grandson something fierce? I just imagine them having the sweetest relationship. She and Ruth must have just stared into his squishy baby face and delighted in counting his fingers and toes. They must have marveled at their miracle baby as he learned to talk and walk. That would have been such a blessing on its own, but then we find out that Obed has a son named Jesse. Jesse has a son named David, who becomes the king of Israel and a man after God’s own heart. From David, the lineage goes straight down to Jesus. There is so much more redemption coming than Ruth or Naomi could ever have imagined, and they don’t even see it in their lifetimes. Even the possibility that God can do more with our situation than we could plan, even more than we can imagine, gives me such hope. Now I am going to bed in preparation for another day of gleaning tomorrow, and I will rest in the freedom that the rest of our story is in much better hands than mine.