Tonight it is hitting me all over again. The unfairness of it all.
I have to be honest. Sometimes I just don’t get it. I don’t get God. It is so hard to see people suffer. It is so hard not to question God in times like this.
“Unfairness” looks different for all of us. For some, maybe it is a loveless marriage. For others, maybe it is wayward or rebellious kids. For me – it’s been infertility.
That’s where my frustration is coming from tonight – the pain of infertility.
Tonight, the pain is not about me – although I’ve had my fair share, two miscarriages later. It’s for the others – and not even girls I know personally. My heart is heavy for my “blog friends” – some of whom have reached their last chance. Their last IVF cycle that didn’t take. Another miscarriage. Out of money. Out of options.
It’s hard not to ask God, “Why?”
It’s hard not to ask God, “What’s the plan, here? What is this?” And it’s hard when God doesn’t say much. Something, God! Say something!
Tonight, I’m reliving those questions vicariously through the experiences of my friends. But it’s not new to me – I’ve lived this myself. I’ve asked those questions. I didn’t really get answers.
When I went through my second miscarriage, I was completely unprepared for it – not just the feelings of loss, but of confusion and disorientation. With my first miscarriage, I felt like God was close by, with me through every moment of my suffering. With my second, I felt totally lost. Disoriented. Abandoned. I didn’t see a plan; all I saw was everything I must have done wrong for God to punish me like this.
I was angry at God, but I was more scared that He was angry at me. He felt unapproachable. On top of our loss, I felt like not even God was there. And that only heightened my pain.
I felt like I didn’t have much faith, but faith was all I had.
Faith doesn’t always look like miracles and resoluteness and parades of victory down the street. Sometimes faith looks like getting out of bed every day. Going to work. Showing up. Still reading your Bible when it feels like an empty and futile routine. Still lifting your hands in worship, even when tears stream down your face at the same time. Still talking to God, because you know He’s there, even if you don’t feel Him – or want Him. Still coming to God when all you can do is cry and pound your fists on His chest.
That’s faith, too – and maybe the most tenacious faith of all. When you have nothing left, you still don’t let go of the rope because you know it’s your lifeline.
We are going to have to deal with the real or perceived unfairness of life until we die.
That is just the reality we have to live with. So how do we deal with it? I’m no expert, but here’s something of what I have learned:
1. Be honest. Tell God exactly how you feel, how unfair you think it all is. Psalm 62:8 says to pour out your heart to Him because He is a refuge. He is a safe place to lay it all out there. He won’t push you away, and it helps to get it out there.
2. Keep showing up. You’ve heard, “Fake it ‘til you feel it”? Well, I’m not necessarily saying to fake it, but even if you don’t feel it, keep doing what you know to do. Keep reading your Bible, keep praying, keep going to church, keep fellowship. It might feel empty and hollow for a while, but I think it works like an I.V. While we are sort of “out of it,” like a slow drip, life slowly returns.
3. Repeat truth. As many times as you need to, until you “get it,” say this – God has a plan. This sounds like a Christian cliché, I know. Yet for some reason, this simple reality has brought me such life. There really, really is a plan. God is not doing damage-control. He is sovereign, and if He allowed it, He has a plan to use it for good. Period. He has the perfect perspective of what is “good” – we don’t. And that is so important to remember…and to ultimately believe.
After weeks of taking these steps, slowly the fog surrounding my miscarriage began to lift. And as time went on, I just wanted to be near God again; I missed our relationship so badly that the “injustice” of my miscarriage seemed almost secondary.
I just wanted to be near God again.
Slowly, I could feel Him near. I could hear His voice again. It sounded like the welcome voice of a long-lost friend. I realized, He was never “lost” at all. He was there the whole time - the invisible, imperceivable Presence.
Doing these things won’t necessarily change our situations or make life fair. But hopefully, it changes us. And maybe that’s the point after all.
Hi, my name is Katie, and I am a high school English teacher by day at a Christian school on Long Island. In my “other” life, I blog over at A Hundred Affections. I’ve been married for almost four years and am the mom of two babies who went straight to heaven, whom I long to meet someday – and will! I blog about anything and everything – if it’s happening in the world, in my world, or in my head, it will find its way to my blog!