Hope Deferred

About 3 weeks ago, my husband and I found out we were expecting again. We were shocked, to say the least. A number of my friends have been trying to get pregnant, unsuccessfully, one just lost their son, and another had a miscarriage. I didn't understand why God would give us, people perfectly content with our 1, another, and not give to those who wanted. Some friends sympathized with being thrown a loop, some friends were angry and called me ungrateful. I was just proud that I was reacting 1000% better than when I found out I was pregnant the first time. After about a week, we accepted that we were having another child, and even felt that God had told me this child's name was Hope. We started scheduling appointments for the next few weeks, and went on like we did with my pregnancy with my son.

Then on Valentine's day, after work, I found myself bleeding. I went to the e.r. and was sent home a few hours later, being told that I was threatening miscarriage, and to go home and rest. I called out of work, and was hanging out with my son and husband, when I felt something happening. I lost our baby at 9:30pm on Sunday. I lost Hope.

That may sound dramatic, and some friends have even told me that I must have heard wrong about their name. However, in a metaphorical sense, there's nothing closer to the truth. Pregnancy is something hoped for, the promise of a life and the impact it will have. Miscarriage is the loss of all that potential, and the hope that was built into it. The cocktail of emotions that come with is a roller coaster of guilt, sadness and confusion. Why would God give me something I wasn't prepared for, ask me to accept and make space in my heart for, to then let it die? It feels like I've asked this question again and again, in various circumstances, as I've felt hope rise up in my spirit, only to have the result be dashed to pieces.

Proverbs 13:12 says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life." I've spoken to a few friends who have also recently lost their pregnancies, and they all speak of heartsickness. I've seen that heartsickness develop into hopelessness and heard believers doubt that God even could fulfill their heart's deepest longings.

Abraham and Sarah laughed at God. Sarah was 90 when God told Abraham that she would have a child. She had conceded to hopelessness to the point that she handed her maidservant over to her husband, so that at least he would have an heir. 13 years had already passed since Ishmael had been born, and every day, he was a reminder of Sarah's barrenness. First, Abraham fell on his face, laughing at God, asking will two very old people suddenly become parents? He even asked that God just bless Ishmael, his existing son, rather than give him another. Sarah, when visitors had come, laughed when she heard them tell Abraham she would have a son, and said, "After I am worn out, and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?" Her hope had become sarcasm and bitterness. God responded with asking, "Is anything too difficult for me?" (Genesis 17 & 18) Later on, in Genesis 22, God asked Abraham if he was willing to sacrifice Isaac back to Him. I imagine the absolute torment in his soul, having to choose between the promise and security of his future, and all the dreams and aspiration built into Isaac and faith in the promise of his God. As I look at my own little one, if I am honest, I would not have been so obedient to go as far as he did.

The disappointment that leads to hopelessness is a tool of Satan that attacks at our most vulnerable. It attempts to convince us that everything God said about hope being one of the things that lasts isn't true, and to believe otherwise is foolish. It tells us that the only way to protect our heart is to not let it want or dream or chase the things it has longed for. It tells us not to make space for things that make our blood pump a little faster, because they, too, will become like dust and be gone before we know it. Sarah tried for years to bear Abraham a child before she gave up and threw another woman into his arms. It seemed utterly foolish to believe, even from the mouth of God, that this joy could be hers. It was too big of a dream, with too much risk to her heart and too much potential for disappointment. Hopelessness feels safe, and many of us cling to it in times of heartbreak.

So how do we break free from hopelessness? David, Jeremiah, and Paul, all tell us to hope in the everlasting love of God. We are told they who put their hope in God shall never be put to shame; that they whose hope is in God will be filled with joy and peace; and that faith and love spring from hope in God. (Psalm 25:3/Romans 15:13/Colossians 1:5) If I was going to be perfectly honest, none of that makes me feel better, or the safety of hopelessness less appealing. But as my friend Jenny said, there is "brutal truth [in Jesus] [that] breaks barriers to let hope in." As I follow Christ, I am inclined toward hope. When there is a choice between the glorious and the safe, my spirit reaches for that which is lasting, full and awe inspiring. It doesn't care if the circumstances make sense, or if the risks are high, Hope arises. The only thing I can do is let it happen, and trust that the things that don't work out the way I expect them to are being held by my Abba, who makes beautiful things out of my brokenness.