God is Enough Part 1

If I had to pick only one lesson God has relentlessly put on my heart over the last eight years of praying to have a family, it is the only God is enough to satisfy. I’ll be honest – this lesson scares me just a bit. Anyone can say “God is enough.” I always figured He was enough for me. After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever want to be without Him.

Or would I? What if I had to choose between Him and something or someone almost as dear? Who would I run to?

When I started bleeding during my first pregnancy and we were waiting to find out what was going on, I was able to pray, “Thy will be done” with my whole heart. I said it and I meant it. When we found out our baby was gone, I was completely devastated, but I felt content in His will.

By the second baby, the one I carried the longest, it was harder to pray for God’s will. But He proved Himself faithful through His Word and people’s love, and He was still enough. The third, I was numb. Struggling. Praying, “Dear God, just please make this baby live. Do not let me have gotten pregnant just to miscarry again. Please.” When that baby died, the season of anger was a bit longer, but I felt hope after all the testing was over and we’d come up with a plan.

With every miscarriage, the desire to hold our child in my arms grew stronger and stronger. It consumed me in many ways. While during the first loss I ran to Jesus, I now just wanted our babies.

Pregnancy number four: Everything fell into place, and I just “knew” in my heart God was about to answer our prayers. I found out we were expecting twins and thought God was making up for the pain we’d had to endure. We had nearly everyone we knew praying for us. The elders of the church had prayed over me. The pregnancy was not doing well, but yet, it endured. We named the twins, though unsure of the gender. Despite the stress, we enjoyed the pregnancy. Everything just felt right… everything except one thing:

That nagging thought in my heart that asked, “Grace, who would you pick, Me or them? Who do you belong to? Who owns your heart?”

Writing it off as one of my many random thoughts, I tried to get it out of my mind. “Of course I love you more, God.” But that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. I was supposed to surrender everything in my life to Him, including those two babies.

But no! I couldn’t! “No more pain, God, please!” My true heart shone through, “If you don’t save them, God, I’m going to walk away from You. ‘My’ God, He’s big enough to sustain their lives and He loves me enough to do it. If You don’t save them, I’m not going to spend my life serving You.”

The day I dreaded more than almost anything came. They were gone, and I had a choice to make.

For two weeks I didn’t hardly touch my Bible. The promises of God seemed so unbelievable. My God of love and of power and of mercy, grace, and faithfulness, He wouldn’t have allowed this to happen to me. He promised to give us everything we need. I needed my babies. I needed to hold them, nurse them, hear their cries and see their smiles. My heart hurt so badly! How could I serve Him?

And then I said something no Christian should ever say. “I hate you God, and all I want, if I cannot be a mother, is for You to turn Your face away from me. Just let me live my life as best I can, and leave me alone. You only inflict pain. My heart is too broken to be pieced back together, so just let me sit here and learn to live with it.”

I’d made my choice. I was done. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Losing them was hard enough. Knowing I might never have biological children here? Even more difficult. The hormones, leftover bruises from my shots as constant reminders of days before, and many sleepless night? Almost unbearable. I’d given up being like Job. My strength, my will, who I was, was no longer there. And God, I hoped, would soon be a distant memory.

“But where else would you go? He’s God, Grace! And if you don’t have Him, you don’t have anything.”

Ugh, there went that voice of reason again. Or was it the Holy Spirit?

“Where else would you go?” It pressed.

So I thought about it. I mean really thought about it. If I was going to serve Him, then I was going to serve Him whole-heartedly. I was either going to live for myself, or devote my entire being to a genuine faith. I’d always been an all in or all out kind of person, so if I was His then I was going to live for Him at any cost.

“At any cost?” It asked.

Yes. I realized I couldn’t live without Him. I’d rather have Jesus than anything – riches, popularity, worldly possessions… but what about my family?

Throughout the miscarriages I’d had this mental picture in my mind: Jesus was in one corner of a room, and our children were on the other. I pictured myself having to choose who I would run to, who I loved more. While at first I ran to Jesus, with each loss I’d pause to consider the choice more and more. By pregnancy number four, I knew I’d run to my babies, and I wasn’t sure I would have even needed to think about it. Then I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my heart was in the wrong place. Jesus was supposed to be more important than anything and anybody, including my babies I held so dear.

Truth be told, those babies don’t belong to me or my husband. They were a gift we were allowed to hold for a little while, but ultimately, they belonged to God. I am a servant of Jesus Christ, and everything I have is really His, including “our” children.

So, after some deep soul-searching, trying to find out if I was really His or not, I came to the conclusion that yes, I am His child. No, I cannot live without Him. His promises are still true. His love will still endure forever. So why am I in this season of life?

I, deep breath here, do not need my children. I want them, but they are not necessary. Only God is. So, in keeping His promises of providing for our needs, He allowed our first five babies to be taken away in order to give me something more: a purer faith. Although at times I wonder about the cost, I know He knows what He is doing.

He isn’t up in heaven rejoicing over our pain. He lovingly, and I do believe sorrowfully, removes some of His protective grace in order to allow pain to touch our lives. He shapes us, molds us, and then picks us up and gives us the strength to stand. He holds our tears, every one, and He holds the broken pieces of our heart. One day, He will restore our heart, making it better than what was originally there.

But in the meantime, we must continue to cling to His grace and hold fast to His character as we wait for the deliverance only He can bring.

Note: I just want to make it clear that when I said I hated God, I didn’t mean it. It was thought in anger, and brings shame to my face when I relive the memory. How could I, a sinner, every utter such disrespectful words to the God of the universe?

I know people will probably judge what I wrote in that lesson a little harshly, but I wrote it because it was a part of my story. We need to confess and deal with our wrong thoughts and emotions during grief, not just suppress them or hide them. We need to rip sin up by the roots, not hide the bad fruit.

That can’t happen until we honestly admit our sinful thoughts or actions. But to be clear: I do not ever condone sinful actions, and I hope that while dealing with grief, you do the right things more often than not.

©️ Grace Baeten 2023