Ruth: A Life of Witness

            Today we celebrated the life of a woman who inspired many in our small town. I only knew Ruth Brown for about three years, but I always walked away from her feeling challenged, uplifted, and encouraged.

            She suffered greatly in her battle with COPD and cancer. Even so, she did not harbor bitterness or anger toward God or anyone else. Neither did she wallow in self-pity or self-condemnation. This is not to say she never struggled, but she always came back to the peace of knowing her Savior. I remember leaving the hospital in awe once after Jon and I had visited her. She told us very matter-of-factly that her condition was a result of poor choices she had made growing up and she just had to live with those consequences. The way she said it has lingered with me. She spoke as a woman who understood her own sin but who also knew and rested in complete forgiveness. She didn’t play the blame games. She knew how to live with the reality of her circumstances without letting it eat away her spirit, her kindness, her faith, or her hope.

            Her love was so evident and so far-reaching. It ran in deep rivers over her husband, her children, her church, and especially her Jesus. While she cherished her time here, she eagerly looked forward to the day when she could be with Him – when she could be in her true home. In the meantime, she worshipped with abandon, she set her attention on the needs and well-being of others, she walked alongside her husband of over forty years with both fierce affection and snappy humor, she prayed fervently for her children, she served others however she could, and she kept living with dignity and strength until the end of her days here. In spite of knowing full well that her time was short, she continued genuinely loving and truly living.

            Ruth has given me a whole new understanding of the meaning of longsuffering and how to walk well through pain. Having to fight to breathe is something that is completely foreign to most of us. We may remember as children the panic that started welling up when we tried to see how long we could hold our breath underwater at the swimming pool. That childhood memory is only a small glimpse of what Ruth experienced over and over. Yet, I don’t remember ever hearing her complain. She was not above asking for prayer, but she did not use her plight to turn everyone’s attention to herself. And despite the difficulty, she made the effort to come to church every Sunday that she could, not out of rote obligation but because she wanted to be with God’s people and worship together with them regardless of what it cost her. What a powerful testimony.

            The life she lived witnessed magnificently to the grace and love of God. She desired desperately for people to know a genuine, thriving relationship with Jesus like the one she enjoyed with Him. She wanted people to know Him not just as a hero who could rescue them out of trouble but as a loving companion and Lord who would walk with them through the fire and on into glory. She longed for others to know and believe that Jesus died for their sins and that He offers forgiveness and an abundant life for those who will trust Him. She wanted people to know the peace and freedom of living a life surrendered and submitted to one’s Creator.

            Ruth is home now. She is breathing freely and basking in the warmth of heaven. She continues to worship with lifted arms and a humble heart. The reflection she could only see dimly before she now sees clearly, face to face. I have no doubt she is dancing with joy in the presence of her Savior. If she were still here, she would invite you, plead with you, to open your heart to Jesus, and she would tell you without reservation that it is worth it.  

        

Giver of Good Gifts

 

            Everyone who knows my dad knows that he is a giver – and a good giver at that. I can’t count the memories I have of him paying not only for our family’s meals but also for the meals of whomever we happened to be eating out with. If he has something that he knows someone else could really use, he’d much rather give it than sell it. His gifts are given without hidden motives of manipulation or control, and he gives much more than just material gifts. Dozens of people have been on the receiving end of his time, expertise, and teaching when it comes to home repairs and improvements, computer troubleshooting, and any number of other forms of analytical puzzles.

            My dad is such an excellent reflection of God as a giver that I’m embarrassed at how I could even try to justify my recent doubts regarding God’s goodness and generosity. My parents themselves are good gifts from God. He has proven Himself time and time again to be faithfully good and generous in providing for Jon and I financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically, socially, and mentally through marital and ministry trials, through multiple moves and job changes, through medical messes, and so much more. He has used so many people to bless us beyond what we could have ever asked for, and He has never forsaken us. It’s absurd, really, to doubt while having the examples that I do in my parents and having seen all that I’ve seen God do in my own life.

            Yet, I’ve still struggled with suspicion. I’ve still wrestled with trusting an all-powerful heavenly Father who has allowed my womb to stay barren when I know my earthly parents (and SO many other friends and family members) would do anything in their power to allow me to have a child. I’ve cried angry tears over Psalm 127 and James 1:17. I’ve wondered if God just doesn’t love me enough or if I don’t love God enough. I’ve prayed until it felt pointless, and I’ve crowded God out with activity – along with all my conflicting feelings about Him.

            Therein lies the problem. It’s hard to see anyone clearly from a distance. James 1:17, as much as it has tormented me, makes it abundantly clear that if anyone has moved or changed, it is not God. So, it must be me. I know it is me. But, if I come near to God again, then who does that leave me to blame? Who else would take the brunt of my anger and disappointment?

            I recently finished Lysa Terkeurst’s book titled It’s Not Supposed to Be This Way. In it, she masterfully gives the reader space and grace to suffer and grieve while also guiding the reader gently back onto the life-giving path toward Christ. She explains that we are between two gardens: the Garden of Eden and the restored Eden of the book of Revelation. God created all things perfect, and we have that perfection etched into our DNA like a faint memory, which is why anything less than perfection stings and disappoints us so badly. God has also provided the way and is working toward restoring all things to that perfection, which gives us hope for the future. However, we live in the middle space where sin is still messing things up, and the harsh dissonance of disappointment still clangs in our ears.

            Learning to trust God and wrestle well through the noise of suffering and disappointment is part of His work in transforming us. Lysa goes on in her book to use the illustration of dust and pottery. God often uses the times in our lives that reduce us to ashes to provide the material to make something even more beautiful and strong. She says, “If our souls never ached with disappointments and disillusionments, we’d never fully admit and submit to our need for God. If we weren’t ever shattered we’d never know the glorious touch of the Potter making something glorious out of dust, out of us.” These illustrations and teachings have been helpful to me in coming to understand and accept the things I see God doing (or not doing) in my own life and learning to trust His process.

            I know God is not maliciously withholding anything from me; that is not His character. He is the good giver of all perfect gifts, and he gives generously and freely. I also know that He sees more than what I can see both in Jon’s and my circumstances and in our hearts. He knows what we need more than we do, and just because He hasn’t given us a child yet doesn’t mean He hasn’t wanted to give us that gift or that He won’t still in the future. He is not a performance-driven God who would require me to love Him a certain amount before rewarding me with a child, and He has already given the greatest demonstration of His own love for me in the sacrifice of His Son. These are the truths I need to remember and to choose to believe. God is generous and good, and I can trust that He is making something beautiful from the ashes.

           In the meantime, He has given me a few things to work on. If you are struggling with trusting God’s goodness, I invite you to join me in these.

1. Stay close to Him. Pushing Him away only exacerbates the problem because I start losing sight of who He is and start believing the lies.
2. Give Him the glory. I just read in Judges 7 about how God wouldn’t let the full Israelite army fight against the Midianites under Gideon because He knew they would be tempted to think that their own power and might won the battle. He whittled the army down to three hundred men and used them to take down Midianites and Amalekites “as numerous as locusts” (Judges 7:12). I can’t try to control or fix everything myself, and any progress I make is only because of Him. Worshipping God also keeps my heart in a posture of peaceful submission.
3. Celebrate the victories. I’ve been too focused on a pregnancy being the only victory. That mindset lends itself to overlooking or downplaying all that God is doing right now, which in turn leads to doubting Him again. For example, I have slowly but surely been making leaps and bounds health-wise. Shark week has almost earned itself a new name as my husband has come through relatively unscathed for several months now. My moods are so much more stable in that regard!
4. Reframe. I am learning how powerful the mind is and how much my whole being – body, heart, mind, and spirit – is affected by what I think. Side note – this is probably why God transforms us by renewing our minds (Rom. 12:2). Anyway, I’m learning some techniques to manage stress in addition to learning how to turn negative thinking around on its head. For example, instead of thinking “this sucks – I’m still not pregnant this month,” I can think, “I’m glad God designed my body in such a way that it knows when pregnancy is not a good idea.”

            Choose to believe God. Trust His goodness, His generosity, and His process. Wrestle well through disappointment. Find hope in the future of eternity. Obey God when He asks you to do something. Get back up when you fall.

Don't forget to find We Are Seen on social media or sign up for e-mail updates!

(I promise not to spam you ☺)

Infertility Is

Infertility is being afraid to hope because the inevitable disappointment that follows month after month is just too much to handle sometimes.

Infertility is feeling like you are letting down everyone around you - the would-be father, the would-be grandparents, the would-be aunts and uncles, the would-be cousins, the would-be babysitters, teachers, friends, and mentors. 

Infertility is questioning whether this is because of something in your (or your spouse’s) past, and knowing there are other people who wonder the same. 

Infertility is isolating and lonely when kept hidden. 

Infertility is having no answers. It is thinking you have an answer, waiting 6 months, and then looking for more answers. It is having countless answers and yet still no answer at all. 

Infertility is diligently fighting against the comparison trap, but occasionally falling into frustration, jealousy, confusion, and/or outrage.  

Infertility is getting poked, cut, screened, flushed, and tested until you, your marriage, and your bank account can’t hardly stand anymore. 

Infertility is sometimes being angry at the only One whom you fully believe can ultimately do anything or bring you any real comfort about your situation. Then it is feeling guilty, ashamed, and hopeless for feeling that way. 

Infertility is looking into sympathetic eyes that don’t understand.

Infertility is giving short, robotic answers so that the abyss of emotions doesn’t burst forth to swallow you whole again.

Infertility is scoffing at the irony of being less fertile than a Target manikin. 

Infertility is seeing God work in many ways while He appears to remain frozen with regard to your ability to conceive. 

Infertility is genuinely feeling happy for all the friends and the siblings and the kids you used to babysit when they announce their pregnancies while simultaneously writhing inside with the possibility that it may never be your turn.  

Infertility is having a pass to a secret club that no one wants to be a part of and that 99% of members are trying desperately to leave. 

Infertility is wondering. Wondering if you will ever get to see the joy on everyone’s face (particularly your husband's face) when you reveal that you are finally pregnant. Wondering if you will ever get to plan an announcement, have a baby shower, design a nursery, choose a name, or experience pregnancy, labor, and delivery. It is wondering if you will ever get to see your own eyes or your husband’s hair reflected in your child. 

Infertility is being unable to do what you were designed to do. 

Infertility is having all sorts of biblical role models but also loathing the thought of having to wait as long as Sarah did.

Infertility is suddenly feeling like time is your enemy and struggling to celebrate birthdays as your own number creeps up, your chances slide down, and your risks climb higher. 

Infertility is a seemingly endless cycle of grieving someone who has not yet existed. 

Infertility is knowing that babies are being torn from the wombs of their mothers every day while yours sits empty. 

Infertility is not wanting to give up on having biological children while also not wanting to wait too long before starting the process of adoption (not that the two are mutually exclusive or interchangeable). 

Infertility is a lot of not knowing what to do next or when. 

Infertility is hearing people say, “trying is the fun part,” when they have no idea how stressful, chore-like, hopeless, and/or painful sex can become if you and your spouse fail to intentionally fight for real intimacy. 

Infertility is learning to accept and enjoy a life that is not at all what you originally wanted or pictured. 

Infertility is being grateful for the time, freedom, and sleep-filled nights you have while also knowing you would give it all up in a heartbeat to become a parent. 

Infertility is knowing that adoption is not a cure. 

Infertility is crying after taking your waking temperature because it dropped 13 days past ovulation, and you know even before your period ever shows up that though you did everything right, it still didn’t work. 

Infertility is taking all the pills: prescriptions, supplements, herbal remedies, and more. 

Infertility is researching anything and everything related to fertility until you’ve run out of places to look. 

Infertility is gaining a whole slew of acronyms: IUI, IVF, CD, BD, 2WW, AF, BBT, BFN, BFP, OPK, PCOS, HCG, LH, HSG.....

Infertility is seeing doctor after doctor - traditional and unconventional, compassionate and insensitive, attentive and dismissive.

Infertility is waiting for weeks, months, and years without any guarantee that the wait will end. 

Infertility is considering acupuncture even though you used to think people who subjected themselves to such a thing were basically insane. 

Infertility is painful - physically, mentally, emotionally, socially, and spiritually. 

Infertility is taking a pregnancy test early because even though you know it’s illogical, a small part of you hopes that doing so will somehow prevent your period from coming. 

Infertility is daily continuing to choose to believe in, to trust, to pray to, to worship, and to obey God anyway, regardless of how He chooses to write your story.  And also sometimes failing to do so. 

Infertility is learning over and over again that life is not about you. 

Infertility is having friends and family rally together to help support you in ways that yank the pent-up tears from your eyes and bring you to your knees. 

Infertility is understanding and connecting with specific people in ways you never could have otherwise.

Infertility is having an opportunity to influence, to serve, to encourage, and to comfort others. 

Infertility is a brokenness through which God can still bring about good and reveal His glory.   

Infertility is not what I would have chosen, it is not who I am, it does not define my value, and it is not the most important detail of my story. But it is a part of my story.

Don't forget to find We Are Seen on social media or sign up for e-mail updates!

(I promise not to spam you ☺)