The sun was setting behind the corn fields as my silver Corolla navigated the curvy, country roads that lead to our home. Through blurred vision, I made out the pastel purples, pinks, and oranges across the sky. As I reached the stop sign less than three miles from our house, words tumbled out of my mouth like a fresh rain in the desert.
“I know you are good, God, but this does not feel good. I am mad at you, Lord. I’ve lived a life devoted to you. I’ve done what Your Word says. I am not perfect, but I am not the worst. What do you want from me?”
There it was. Feelings that I had bottled up for months were out in the open.
“God, even if you are mad at me, this isn’t fair to Adam. He is a good man. He is a Godly man, and he deserves to be a daddy. He would be such a great dad, Lord. Why?”
My agony in this question was palpable. I was having a one-way argument with God.
Ready to start a family
My husband and I had been married a little over four years when we decided it was time to start our family. Months passed by and still no positive pregnancy tests. Many doctors’ visits later a nurse practitioner uttered the word “infertility.” My husband, Adam, and I remained hopeful and prayed. Days passed and turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Some days as I prayed, I would hug my Bible as I pleaded fervently for a child. I was literally holding tight to God’s promises.
This was a completely new territory for me, because I was missing two of my greatest comforts: control and organization. For the first time in my life, I could not study enough, pay enough, or do anything enough. I was at the mercy of our Father. Somedays I could only muster a meek, “Jesus,” in hopes He could see my heart.
Fear and silence
When we can’t hear God’s voice over the thundering of our circumstances, it is hard to keep the faith. When there is no tangible evidence of God at work, Prov. 3:5 gives us direction, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
A wayward child that won’t come home?
A family member that won’t heed the Gospel?
A doctor who tells you, “This is the last treatment option?”
Trusting is hard when you can’t see the next step ahead of you. As our human logic and senses cripple us, one of the enemy’s greatest tools – fear – creeps in. The enemy loves nothing more than to render the Lord’s people useless. It creeps into our minds, hearts, and thoughts, silencing any inclination to trust our Father.
Trusting God in the storm
I trusted God to continue to place air in my lungs and to put food before me at every meal, but, honestly, I did not know if I trusted God to give me a child. I even prayed for God to remove my want to be a mother if His will was for us to not have children. The desire never left me.
Eph. 3:20-21 clearly tells us that He gives us more than we can think or imagine. This verse brought me through many dark valleys, and I clung to the fact that God was giving me better than I asked, even if I couldn’t see it.
Entrusting God with your burdens
God and I continued to have many conversations in that silver Corolla. In one of those exchanges I recall saying, “God I know You can, but I don’t know if You will.” Isn’t that one of our deepest fears? Knowing God can but knowing He may tell us “no.” Trusting God is more than believing He will do something; it is believing He will do the very best something.
The purple and pink skies had changed into long, humid summer days when I finally entrusted the future of our family to God with my whole heart. Adam was filling in for a pastor who had fallen ill one Sunday morning in a quiet country church. Adam hung his suit jacket in the back seat and then climbed behind the wheel to steer us toward lunch. Just as he does every Sunday, he looked over to me and said, “Well, how did I do?”
I said, “Good, but the Lord has laid something on my heart that I am supposed to tell you. That I need you to know.”
He cautiously replied, “OK.”
“I need you to know that if the Lord’s will is for us to not have children, that you are enough for me. We, us, this … this is enough,” I responded.
I meant it, every word. Just like an eight-year old girl who cried out to the Lord to save her, I felt what it meant to trust God again.