Or: What I learned at summer camp: the final installment.
I’ve been away from this blog for a long time. Too much got in the way, and I was kind of being a chicken about what I felt God prompting me to write about. There was one seminar at RYC that God used to etch His words into me, onto my heart, and that was on contentment in suffering, taught by Pastor Joel Fick. We started out learning about the root of suffering, which is sin and its devastating effects. Sin is anti-relational, among brothers and sisters, among friends, between self and God, and the ultimate expression of this is death. Pastor Joel prefaced the rest of his comments by saying that the contentment we have is not what our reaction to death is supposed to be, as if it doesn’t hurt, but how we can be content in our circumstances. Not a fake smile, pretending things are ok, but even in the midst of tragedy, knowing God is present.
Psalm 73:25-26 says “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
Is Christ sufficient for me, even when I have nothing else? The comfort Christ brings doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real, or will go away any time soon, but it means I can and will endure what this fallen world brings to me.
In Philippians 4:11-13, which includes an oft-quoted verse applied and misapplied to all kinds of situations, Paul states “Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”
Pastor Joel pointed out the typical isolation of this last verse, which really makes the meaning bereft of its richness in context. Paul is speaking of knowing how to graciously accept blessings and graciously accept suffering, and Paul knew what that meant. One of the points made during this seminar that stood out to me was that you don’t have to feel guilty when you have blessings and others are suffering. You can be grateful to God for your blessings, and grieve for those who are suffering, without denigrating God’s good gifts. I had a really hard time with this when I was pregnant with Edward. During that time, I saw people I loved suffer hardship and loss in their pregnancies while I had a perfectly healthy one. I didn’t know how to handle that. I remember confessing to a dear friend that I spent a lot of time feeling guilty just for existing. Rejoicing at my pre-born son’s healthy check-ups somehow felt like a betrayal to my friends.
A year ago today, I was on the “brought low” side of that passage. On a Thursday morning, I walked out of my class and left for the emergency room. I spent all day there, undergoing tests, getting stuck with IV’s to give me fluids, and waiting for hours to receive confirmation of what I knew deep down was already true- that I had miscarried my baby at ~6 weeks. Some parts of that day are a blur, and some parts of that day still flash vividly in my mind like the living nightmare it was. Things you don’t want to ever hear your doctor say. Wondering what to tell the handful of people that knew I was pregnant. Wondering how anyone moves on from loss.
In the days that followed, I heard pregnancy announcement after pregnancy announcement. At one point I had 12 friends that were with child. And I was genuinely happy for them, but it was hard. And also in those days, I was upheld by God’s love expressed through my amazing family and friends. I read Scriptures that people sent me, not to try to make me feel better, but that allowed me to grieve. My best friend dropped everything to be with me every time I needed her. My pastor came over and encouraged us with Truth; not rainbows and sunshine, but the real actual truth. The world is broken. Heaven is real. My baby is there waiting for me. I may have to suffer, but my second child never does.
2 days after I came home from the ER, Edward hit his head and gashed it open pretty badly right above his eye. We were at my parents’ house, so my mom drove us to the ER while I sat in the back with Edward, trying to comfort him, keep blood out of his eye, and not have a crazy-person breakdown. We were seen right away, and the pediatric nurse was a friend from church. Edward was glued back together pretty quickly and we were on our way. 2 days before I was walking down that same ER hallway, broken and empty. This time I was walking down the hallway holding my son, and I knew God was telling me something. I still had a job to do. I still had a family. I was still a mother. And He would get me through the days and weeks to come. And He did. I can live fully. I can rejoice in my God. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.
