Ten months after I miscarried our third baby, I found myself in a delivery room preparing to see our fourth baby, knowing that she too would not be born alive. Our daughter Lily was stillborn on August 1, 2019. As I sat in labor preparing to see her sweet face, I wrote down all my fears, grievances, and shattered dreams: “This is not how I imagined seeing my husband hold our daughter. I wish her brothers could meet her. I don’t want to make new plans for Thanksgiving. I wanted her to be in our Christmas card.” This was not the future with our daughter that I hoped for. I had dreamed of daddy-daughter tea parties, girls vs. boys baseball games, and wedding dress shopping. The reality of holding my lifeless daughter for only a few hours shattered those dreams. Her life in our family’s future would be just a memory.
Hope for the weary world
When sin entered life in Eden, suffering became inevitable. We might experience it in different forms, and we might grieve differently, but suffering is a part of this life. In Genesis 3, the Lord told Adam and Eve of the suffering they would face. Having and raising children would be difficult, being married and communing with one another would be difficult, work would be hard, bodies would fail, and death would eventually come to all. But God didn’t just pronounce a curse, he promised hope—hope that would come to crush sin and heal our brokenness (Gen. 3:15). That hope was born as a baby in a stable, and though he would grow up to live a sinless life, he would not live a life free of suffering. When Jesus became man, he too fully experienced pain—emotionally, mentally, and physically.
In John 11, we get a window into some of that suffering. We find Mary and Martha beside a tomb, grieving the loss of their brother Lazarus; when Jesus arrives, he weeps (John 11:34–35). The cries and sobs that came out of me in the moments after giving birth to death were unlike anything I’ve ever known. Consuming grief. If you too have reached that point where weeping physically hurts because you have cried all the tears, be encouraged: you are near to Christ in that place. Our Savior stood beside the tomb of his friend and wept. And he is present with you in your weeping.
In the days since Lily’s death, I have been constantly asking the Lord why I must be sanctified in thisway, and why he’s given me this bitter cup of suffering. Jesus wrestled similarly in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before he was crucified (Luke 22:42). He begged God to remove this cup from him—the cup of suffering, of wrath—but ultimately he put full trust in, and surrendered to, the Father’s plan.
The culmination of Christ’s earthly suffering was his death on the cross. After being bruised and beaten, he began to suffocate and experienced the worst suffering of all: separation from his Father. When Jesus breathed his last breath, I imagine his disciples thought all hope was lost. But Hope himself rose from the dead in three days’ time and fulfilled the promise that would one day put an end to all suffering.
A weary world rejoices
I don’t know when the sting of Lily’s death will fade. Sometimes I feel as if this pain will last forever, but Christ’s work ensures that we will not suffer for eternity. In 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18, Paul reminds us that while we grieve, we do not do so without hope:
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.”
Christ’s death and resurrection secured a perfect eternity with the Father for those who place their hope in him, one that will be free from suffering and ache. This hope moves our souls to rejoice even in and amidst suffering! Not only will the sting of Lily’s death—and the suffering that you are now enduring—one day be a thing of the past, but all that is mysterious will be made clear.
I know that in glory, not even a drop of this suffering or sorrow will consume my heart. But on this side of eternity, I still ache. Fortunately, Christ doesn’t just offer the hope of a future, but present hope because of his finished work. We have the hope that he is with us and is able to sympathize with our grief. We have the hope that we are being transformed through our suffering into his likeness. We have the hope that while we weep, he is comforting us in a way that will enable us to comfort others. We have the hope that in our nearness to him, he will restore our joy.
Dear sister, if your dinner table has an empty chair, if your Christmas card is missing a face, if you’re celebrating in a less-than-ideal venue, remember and draw near to Christ. Press into him, trust in his glorious plan, and cling to him as your hope, that your weary soul might rejoice for the ways he is at work in your suffering, and for the eternal day that is to come when we will feast and weep no more.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION/ APPLICATION:
1. What suffering are you facing right now? What grief is surfacing this Christmas season?
2. How does considering Christ’s suffering transform your perspective on your own pain?
3. Reflect again on 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 and consider how the promise of Christ’s return offers you hope in your current situation.
Emily Rogers is a wife to Vic, and mom to V, Nolan, Baby Rogers, and Lily. When she isn’t chasing her two boys around a pretend baseball field, she finds joy in watercolor, calligraphy, and graphic design. She believes life is best with dear friends, open windows, coffee, board games, The Office, and long talks about Jesus. You can find her on Instagram @harvest_inkor on Etsy www.etsy.com/shop/HARVESTink