Problems are for Solving

One year ago today I brought my wife home from the hospital after a miscarriage. This baby, Baby Ash as we called him, was one we wanted badly and was the sixth miscarriage in three years for us. We have recently conceived and this pregancy seems to be going better. We heard the baby’s heartbeat twice through interal ultrasounds and the baby is due on Reformation Day, October 31st. We are praying that this baby will come to term and that we will rejoice now with him rather than later in Heaven.

What follows is a post I wrote that started a former blog the week following Baby Ash’s death:

——–

Musings After the Death of Baby Ash

Seven. And six in a row. In the last 3 years God has taken six of our children home before they have been born. How are we to understand it?

We thought this time was different. Everything seemed to be progressing normally. It was getting very close to the point where we would be past the time period of the other miscarriages and we were hopeful that Monday’s midwife appointment would give us a heartbeat to hear and to know that our baby was safe. It was not to be.

There has been much mercy. A few days earlier this time and I would have been out of town. A few weeks earlier and Raquel would not have been here—and I would have had to send my wife away in an ambulance. And happening at the end of resurrection weekend—giving hope upon hope.

We do not know why God has taken home our children—and so many of them.

We have searched for sin that we might be missing. We have prayed that God would show us what He would have us do.

I shaved my head. I was looking for something outward I could do to grieve our loss and I remembered Job rending his clothes and shaving his head and worshipping. So I shaved off my hair for the first time in my adult life.

Why is it that we grieve so poorly and so little? In American Christianity why is there so little outward sadness? Sin is horrid. It hurts. It leads invariably to death. In this case the death of one so small that we had not yet met him.

People seem afraid to talk to us. They don’t know what to say.

How could they?

They should know, though, that we don’t want them to say anything at all. We want them to come by and cry with us. To drown in a couch of tears at the loss of yet another baby that we longed for so much. To sit and be quiet and weep with us.

Recently I read C.S. Lewis’ The Silver Chair to my children. I was reading through the whole set of the Chronicles and we came to my favorite. I love that book. At the end Caspian dies. His character is uncommon in that it stretches across three books. And at the end of The Silver Chair he dies. Lewis gives us a picture of him meeting Aslan in His own country. I cried. I couldn’t help myself. I read Aslan telling Caspian that he could never want something wrong again and I couldn’t get through the sentence. I don’t normally break into tears very easily—even when mourning—and so this surprised me. I talked to Theresa about it later and she remarked that she wasn’t surprised because I was “thinking about home.�

Home. It’s funny that we have so many places that we call home. Our home town. Our houses. I read a note from a Lutheran brother today arguing that when Jesus says that He is a door the symbolism is lost on us unless we realize that the real door is Him and that the earthly doors are but symbols of Him. The same goes for bread, wine, vines, etc.

Home. This place where I sleep at night I call home. But it isn’t really my home. My real home is with Jesus. Everything else is but a shadow. When I go to be with Him I won’t ever want anything wrong again. Forever. And ever. Hallelujah!

Our baby is home. He won’t ever struggle with sin. He won’t fall down and be tempted to curse God. He is with Jesus—and He won’t ever want anything wrong again.

Yesterday I sat down with the children and talked to them about baby Ash.

He is dead. We are sad. Daddy is so sad that he shaved his head in grief. We cried together.

Death comes from sin—and we mourn over death because we rightly mourn over sin. And every time we see death, like the death of this little one who we will not know this side of heaven, we mourn because of sin.

Death is our enemy. It is an enemy that Jesus has defeated in His resurrection and will be conquered on the last day. It will be the last enemy to be defeated in time—but we see now in Jesus’ raising Himself from the dead that this defeat is sure. And so in the midst of our grief we have hope. We have hope that one day we too will rise from the dead and be with Jesus.

Baby Ash is with Jesus—where there is no time. And so no time will pass for him between now and when we see him. No time at all. For us it is a long time but for him it is no time at all. We will miss him until then but he will never miss us. And he cannot cry for us because he knows only joy in Jesus. And though we cry—we know that he is not sad.

This I told them as we cried together. This hope and sorrow we shared. And then I told them this Scripture:

Isaiah 51:11 “Therefore the redeemed of the LORD shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head: they shall obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away.�

There will be no mourning, no sadness, in Heaven. And the redeemed of Yahweh will come into Zion with singing and joy (EVERLASTING joy!). Sorrow and mourning will FLEE AWAY!

This is our homecoming. This is the day that we go to be with Jesus. This is the day that the tears of sadness cease FOREVER. When we return to our home.

But not yet.

Though God in His graciousness gives us a taste of this once a week. When we come into His presence to worship Him and are taken into the heavenlies in Christ. When we sit at the Table and feast with Him. This is our glimpse of home. Every Lord’s Day when we come together at His feat to worship Him. But oh how it makes us long to be home.

I understand now why Job shaved his head and tore his clothes. I also understand why he fell on his face and worshipped the one true God. His grief and his worship were a part of the Gospel that he had embraced. He understood that sin leads to death and that death leads to life for the redeemed in Christ.

Please mourn with us at the loss of this little one who we wanted so badly to meet. Please cry with us as we fill our beds with tears over this death. Please be with us and hold us up before the throne of grace. Please worship the one true God who makes no mistakes with us as we rest in the peace and joy that comes only in trusting Jesus.

Today I still want to hold this child in my arms. I want what I cannot have.

One day soon I will go to be with him and we will both be with Jesus. Then I will never want anything wrong again. Then I will never cease to see the love of my Father in Christ. Then, and only then, will I, and my children who have gone before me, be home.

And everlasting joy shall be upon our heads.

Marquette Heights, IL

March 29, 2005

In memory of Jubal or Zoe, “Baby Ash”

Trackback URI | Comments RSS