This is a vulnerable post. I have been avoiding writing it because I am scared that people will judge me. I think God wants me to share this part of my journey, because someone, somewhere, will relate to it and know they are not alone. Not because the timing of our seasons lines up exactly, or that our circumstances are identical. But maybe you, too, are waiting for victory. I am with you as you wait to get to the other side.
We have been trying to get pregnant for 9 months now. I have many friends who have been trying for much longer, and I know mere months pale in comparison to the depth of their longing and heartache. I want to be sensitive to their journey and their pain, so I haven’t been writing – even talking about it.
I know 9 months is not that long, but it’s long enough to be painful and disappointing. Long enough that at this time last year, I was convinced I would be holding a newborn by Christmas.
Long enough that this could have been the month we welcomed a baby into our family.
And you throw that into the mix of waiting for a visa so we can move on with the plan we thought God spoke to us, the waiting is compounded. Then you add it to the fact that I waited and longed for my husband year after year as I watched so many people, most of them younger than me, get married. Then, here I am, again. Waiting. Watching so many people, most of them younger than me, have a baby. Multiple babies.
The feelings feel so much like the waiting I went through during singleness.
And it’s just not fair that I have had to wait for both.
Marriage and babies. The long proclaimed pinnacle of womanhood, and the two things I wanted more than anything else in life.
I thought I had already passed this test. I thought I had learned all I needed from waiting.
Fear rears its ugly head and says to me, “You had to wait so many years for Brian. What if you have to wait years for a baby, too? That’s so unfair. Look at how all these people get what they want from God right away. He has never been fair to you…”
Lies, all of it, disgusting lies.
Why is it that when we are in pain, lies can become so…believable?
It would simply be easier to give myself over to the lies than to contend for God’s goodness as I wait for a child that was never promised me.
People have a problem with that statement. They quote Psalm 37:4 and try to assure me that God promised to give me my desires. I just don’t think that is what this verse means. And if I press on that thought a little more, they say, “God will give you your desires because He is good.”
I never want my belief in God’s goodness to be based on what He does or does not give me. Because He is so much more than a giver of good things.
And please hear me when I say that I believe in His goodness. I truly do. I just don’t want to reduce that goodness to the things He does for me. He is more than that. Better and bigger than that. Good-er than that.
Because even if we didn’t get pregnant, or didn’t make it to South Africa, would that then make God not good? Absolutely not.
That is the lie of this age–that God is only good if things go our way.
What if He doesn’t give us what we want? Then what?
Saying He is good just because He gives us what we ask for falls short, when you talk to the person who prayed for healing, and instead went to a funeral. Or the woman who tried for years to get pregnant, and is now the age of a grandmother, but has never had a child. Or the one who has spent her life alone because she never got married, even though she prayed, she asked, and she believed.
These are real life scenarios. Is God not good to them?
We don’t always have to have the answer. Sometimes we just need to sit with someone in their pain and let them ask their questions. Because that’s what Jesus does.
He sits by my side, as one more month goes by and I am reminded that my womb is still empty. He lets me ask Him “why?” even though I have promised Him so many times that I would stop. He wipes away my tears as the longing becomes so intense it seems unbearable to go on much longer without its fulfillment.
Sometimes life is just painful. Sometimes, our seasons don’t make sense. Sometimes people don’t get pregnant, and don’t get healed, and don’t get married.
I could scream at the unfairness of it all. It’s. Not. Fair. And I have had to battle and process my own anger in this season. Not just for my own pain, but also for those whose pain I carry.
So I ask you, what do you do when you are in between trial and victory?
What do you do when you are waiting, longing, hoping, praying, and breaking?
When the clouds are dark and the weight of the pain in your heart is suffocating?
When hopelessness has overtaken hope?
When questions far outweigh answers and lies scream so much louder than the whisper of Truth?
What do you do?
What I am trying to coax and encourage and muster my little heart to do is see the victory that I believe is in my future, and call it into my present.
I know I can’t actually believe a baby into existence, or a visa, or a calling. What I can call into existence is belief that Jesus is good, even if He does not give me what I desire. I can believe that He is present with me in my pain, no matter how long the waiting lasts. If I can just get closer to Him, I know my heart will survive.
And slowly, quietly, peacefully…the pain of the moment, is superseded by the comfort of His presence.
If I can look into my future, and see Him, then I have seen the other side of victory.
This is a wonderful song about Victory.