The fight for life begins with death...

Pro-life.  Anti-abortion.  Life-Defender.  The fight for life has many different names.  Whatever name it is called, the core truths are still the same.  A new life begins at conception.  No one should have the legal right to abort a baby, no matter how small or unwanted.   Women should have rights, but not to take the life of another, even if in her body.  I wholeheartedly and passionately believe these truths, and it continually blows my mind that this isn't a societally accepted ideology.  As the scientific horrors and truths about abortion and facilities like Planned Parenthood continue to come to light, I am even more astounded that it doesn't change everyone's mind about being pro-choice or pro-abortion, or pro-women's rights.

But it doesn't.  And when I was thinking about why this is the case and how I could help advocate for the voiceless unborn, I sadly realized that the fight for life actually begins with death.

Why is there a fight for life?  Because millions have been, are and will be killed.  The death of the masses of unborn babies is bringing about an army of people fighting for their rights as human beings (despite the fact that according to some unnamed politicians, an unborn baby has no constitutional rights supposedly...).  Their deaths drive our passion, our emotion, our hearts, and our souls to take action against not only those that bring it about, but also those contemplating it as well as those fighting to keep the right to do it.

I didn't come to this realization until recently, when I found that the death of our little baby at 12 weeks was actually one of the greatest tools to use in this fight for life.  I was in Washington D.C. in January to participate in the national March for Life, one of the largest pro-life rallies in the nation.  On the street, a lady stopped me and a few others and was very harshly and passionately (nothing wrong with passion) about the right of a woman.  She was bashing the fact that pro-life based their ideology on life beginning at conception.  She continued on and on, and when I finally stopped her and said, "So you are going to tell me that the miscarriage I just had a month ago was just a lump of cells?  That the little baby I passed wasn't alive even though it had fingers, toes, and a heartbeat?".  All she could say was "sorry for your loss"...

I've thought a lot about that street debate.  One, because I kept thinking how I did not change that lady's mind at all about being pro-choice.  And two, I realized that the death of our Rex, of the millions of miscarriages, of the countless still births, of the endless premature deaths are actually speaking for themselves.  I was realized that while I thought I was a voice for the voiceless, they sure were speaking loud and clear.  You see, their deaths are screaming the fact that they had LIFE.  How could they have died if they weren't alive to begin with?  How could their death cause people so many tears, grief, anguish and pain if they were only a supposed lump of cells?

The true fight for life begins with their deaths.  It is what drives us to fight for them.  It is what motivates us to keep battling for them.  It is what stirs our hearts to speak up on their behalf.

But what is so astounding is that the the pro-life movement is only modeling a fight for life a few thousand years ago that began with death.  Only this fight has already been won.  It was in Jesus' death that He stood up for us sinners, who had no way to stand against a God who demanded justice from a sinful people.  It was in his death that Jesus fought for our right to eternal joy when we were lost in our sin.  It was in His death that Jesus spoke on our behalf to a holy and perfect God.  The eternal and ultimate fight for life has already been fought and won.  The voiceless will now forever be able to sing eternal praise to their Savior who spoke up for them.  His death brings life.

And because of this glorious fight so long ago, the millions of lives lost to abortion, miscarriage, and premature death will be able to sing eternally to their Savior, and someday we will be able to join with them too.

So we fight on.  Being a voice for the voiceless.  All the while remembering that we can fight because Someone once fought for us.  And that our blood, sweat and tears are not in vain.  He has already won.

So if you've lost a little one due to abortion, miscarriage, still birth, premature, or after birth, don't keep it silent.  God can use it as one of the greatest tools in our earthly fight for life, just as He used his own Son.  How he let the Ultimate fight for life begin with one Ultimate, conquoring death...

It just doesn't make any sense...

I have been astounded by the number of women I have connected with the last 6 months due to experiencing the loss of a child.  You only have to hear "I had a miscarriage too" or "I lost a baby too", and instantly there is is the deep, general understanding, empathy, and comfort.  You don't have to talk about how you had to go through painful labors, or talk about the horror experienced when seeing death on an ultrasound, or talk about how your stomach drops when the reality hits you, or talk about wondering if you are going to pass your baby in your bathroom, or talk about walking out of the hospital after surgery numb from the fact your baby was just removed from you.

I have heard of 3 people in the last week who have lost their little babies: one 9 hours old, one 19 days old, and one 11 months old.  I had tears streaming down my face as I read or heard about their stories, knowing I couldn't imagine losing a child I had physically held, one I had to pick out a tiny casket, or one I had to plan a funeral for.  When I was little, I remember the very first funeral I ever attended was when I was 4.  Two little children from the same family in our church were killed in a car accident, one 2 years old, one 6 years old.  I remember seeing my dad and mom sobbing on the couch when they got the news, and I remember seeing my sobbing mom hug the father of the children at the viewing.  I remember all of that, and I was only 4 years old.  It was because it didn't make any sense.  At our church growing up, there was a tragically a huge amount of baby deaths, especially from stillbirths.  I remember my dad saying that it was sad but understandable to go to older people's funerals, but there was something inexplicably tragic about going to so many baby funerals.  When you hear these stories, you can't help but think:  This just doesn't make sense.  Why these precious, innocent little babies or children?  When you hear the massive number of women experiencing miscarriages and infertility struggles, you can't help by think:  This just doesn't make sense.  Death is an unspeakably difficult, dreaded, and hated thing anyway.  Add in the fact that it was a baby or child makes it even more incomprehensible.  In our human minds, we try to make sense of it.  Many turn away from God after experiencing this, and no one can necessarily blame them.  How could God, who we believed was in control of everything, have this happen?  How could He permit/allow/purpose that these little ones we love SO deeply to be taken away?  You sometimes here the answers of "He has a purpose", or "We don't know why, but He promises to walk this journey with us", or "He is going to use you in some mighty way or teach you something".  These may all be completely true, but it still doesn't change the fact that it doesn't make sense to ME.  

As Easter came this year, it was a very different one.  The night of Palm Sunday was one of the first nights I truly let grief come.  I had been letting myself cry here or there throughout the months, but I sobbed for hours that night, as I was finally accepting that this was all very real.  As I did my devotions throughout the holy week, I obviously tried to keep my focus on Jesus, his unspeakable pain and sacrifice for me, and how his death and resurrection brings me hope.  However, as I was studying, I realized that I had never truly looked at Easter from God's perspective rather than only Jesus'.  The truth of this change in perspective came like an overwhelming flood to my soul and heart.

God's Son literally died.  He literally lost his child.  He knew EXACTLY how I was feeling.  Just like I had those connections with women, this overwhelming connection came, as I truly was understanding that all the pain and hurt I was feeling was COMPLETELY understood by God, not just because He is an all-knowing God, but because HE had already walked this journey Himself.   

I would have NEVER chose this path.  I would have never given up Rex on purpose.  I know other mothers who lost their children would NEVER choose for them to die.  That would be absurd.  But even more than that, I would NEVER choose for Rex to die instead of a person who was infinitely evil to live.  That just doesn't make sense.

But God literally chose for His Son to die.  He chose for his Son to be horrifically tortured, beaten, and crucified.  He chose to replace His Son's PERFECT righteousness with the vile, evil, and eternal punishment of sinners.  HE chose to give His own Son the eternal punishment of hell that these sinners deserved instead.  That just doesn't make sense.

I realized that losing a child is one of the greatest ways to grow closer to God instead of turning from Him.  In the strangest of ways, the loss of a child is one of the deepest and most profound invitations to have a deeper taste into the essence of the Gospel.  Why would God have His Son die?  Why would he choose this incomprehensible pain for Himself?  The answer just doesn't make sense.  The pain we feel in losing a child shows us just a glimpse of how much He truly loves us.  

It's ok that we cling to the fact that losing a child just doesn't make sense.  I've realized how thankful I am that it doesn't.  Because if it did, God would not have put Himself through that either.    If it made sense, He would have given eternal damnation to sinners who deserved death due to their sins.  He would have given us what we deserved.  He wouldn't have sent His own Son.  He wouldn't have defeated death so we can see our children again.   He wouldn't have secured eternal salvation and joy for all who believe in Him.

I will meet my little Rex in eternal joy someday despite the fact that his death just doesn't make any sense now.  But someday it will.  In the meantime, I turn my eyes to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the one that gloriously and mercifully just doesn't make any sense.

But because You say so...

A few weeks after the initial grieving stage had passed and the shock of it all had worn off, there was a period of a few weeks were things in my heart and body were calm.  My spirits were high and my heart was refreshed by a sense of wanting to move forward.  We had started telling a few more people about the miscarriage, and the outpouring of words, comfort and encouragement was astounding.  I had a false sense of "being ok" because I felt like I was now using it as part of my testimony, as something that had happened in our past.  Even now, it has felt like years ago when we were in the midst of it all.

Then all the little moments came.  I imagine this is even magnified more in women who have had still births, children pass away after birth, or lost a grown child.  The first moments were the ones I realized how far along I would have been.  For some reason, the 20 week mark was very difficult for me.  Then came the questions from my students about when I was going to have a baby (I didn't tell them about the miscarriage).  Then came bills from all the doctor visits.  Then came the multitude of pregnancy announcements of many dear friends.  These were the hardest.  The inexplicable thing is that they were not due to me being jealous or unhappy for them.  In fact, it was the opposite.  I was so genuinely excited for all of them, that the joy I had was actually coming from a well of sorrow from what I had lost.  The joy for them that I had/have was just a reminder of what I had lost.  Even now, it would make it way worse if my grief took away my ability to share in others' joy.   Then came the period of waiting.  I desired to start trying again as soon as possible.  But due to the medical complications, that wasn't an option for us.  As the months flew by of having to wait, I realized that my false sense of "being strong" were actually very opposite.  I had a few weeks that were almost as hard as when it all first happened.  The constant tears and pain in my heart completely threw me off guard.

As these moments came, I wasn't prepared for them.  They would come out of nowhere, and leave me floundering for guidance.  Endless tears that I couldn't stop from coming.  Then I read Luke 5:1-16, the passage about Jesus calling his first disciples...

 Jesus has been sharing the Word of God to many people that day, and was starting to feel crowded.  After seeing Peter's boat on the shore, he asked Peter to take him out in it to avoid the crowd.  From the boat, he then teaches the crowds on the shore.  Then after he finishes, he turns to Peter and tells him what to do.  "Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch" (vs. 4 NIV).  A carpenter tells a fishermen how to fish.  I'm sure Peter was looking at Jesus like he was crazy.  Peter starts by saying a rebuttal, "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything" (vs. 5 NIV).

BUT then I realized that Peter had just heard Jesus share the Word of God (vs.1).

What Peter then says back to Jesus burned a mark on my heart.  "But because you say so, I will let down the nets" (vs. 5 NIV).  Because you say so, I will...  

He wasn't listening to just some random guy who had given a suggestion.  Peter was responding to a command from the Man who had just shared the Word of God.  He had seen and heard of the miracles Jesus was performing.

When Peter did do what Jesus had said, they caught so much fish, their nets began to break.  They even had to call their buddies over with their boats to load up all the fish. Then their boats began to sink from all the fish.  Cra.zy.

But WHY was Jesus so vague?  I mean, he could have said, "Hey Pete.  I know I'm just a carpenter and all, buuuttttt I'm the Son of God, and I have a mind-blowing amount of fish ready for you to catch on the side of the boat were the deep waters are.  You should put your nets on that side to catch them all".  Why didn't he let Peter know about what was on the other side?  Why did he only give him a simple command?  "Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch" (vs. 4 NIV).

Jesus was calling Peter to TRUST him.  Jesus was calling Peter to take him at his word, even though his word didn't make any sense.  Jesus was calling Peter to follow him, even though it may have seemed crazy, ridiculous, and unusual.  Jesus was calling Peter to obey him, even though it may have been scary or dangerous to cast their nets into deep, unknown waters.

I know God has given me a similar command.  Jesus is calling me to take him at his word, even though it doesn't make any sense right now.  Jesus is calling me to follow him, even though it seems crazy, ridiculous and unusual during my grief.  Jesus is calling me to obey him, even though it is scary and seems dangerous to cast my nets into deep, unknown waters....

He says to me.....Hey Julene, "Trust in the Lord, with all your heart and lean not on your understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight".  Proverbs 3:5.  Because you say so, I will....

When I was studying this passage, I knew I was forgetting the fact that context of this passage was that Jesus was calling his disciples to follow him and go out and spread his Gospel.  It was a call for evangelism.  Then it hit me.

Yes, Jesus was teaching Peter that he would now work for him to start reaching hearts with the Gospel. However, by showing them the huge amount of fish in their nets, Jesus was also saying that obedience by following him would result in an abundance of rewards.  But Jesus ended the passage by talking about how the reward was not actually for Peter to get what he thought he wanted, such as a successful business.  The call was for Peter and his friends to leave it all to discover something even greater.  The call was for Peter to realize that Jesus was PROMISING him something immeasurably more than what they could imagine.

Jesus called them to join in something immeasurably greater than their finite minds could comprehend.  More than a successful business of catching and selling fish.  More than motherhood, children, houses, marriage, travel, success, friends, happiness, health.  Jesus' call to follow him wasn't just about joining the call to spread the Gospel.  It is about giving up whatever we desire for something immeasurably more...Himself.

Those gifts and things we desire may still be granted, but it isn't what to live for...

"Don't be afraid; from now on you will catch men".  So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him. (vs. 10-11)

Because you say so, I will....

Look not to what is seen...

So many women have so many stories of losing a baby pre-birth.  Mine is unique to me, but one of the biggest blessings has been being able to hear others and then share our common grief with one another.  Here is a part of our story....

On November 12th, Ryan and I excitingly went to our regularly scheduled first appointment, greatly anticipating hearing our child’s heartbeat and getting the "all clear" of a healthy baby.  Friends and family all texted us with excitement and anticipation, encouraging us how amazing it would be to hear that little human’s beating heart. Only, as we anxiously watched the ultrasound come up on the screen, the only sound we heard was the doctor’s silence as he stared at the screen, searching for signs of life.  After minutes of crushing silence, he said, "well, this isn't good".   I will never forget that moment in the office, as my incredible husband protected me by asking the hardest question, one that I could have never asked myself.  "So does this mean we lost the baby?"  As the doctor shared the news with us, I will never forget the moment my heart understood my head, that the screaming silence meant death.  The doctor left us alone as the tears started to fall. However, I knew I had to take the hard walk out of the office, so I composed myself immediately, as I walked to the registration counter.  I barely was able to keep my composure as I made the follow up appointment to confirm the death of my baby.  I thankfully made it out to the car before uncontrollable sobs hit.  Endless tears would be my constant companion throughout the next few months.

That first night especially, I tried to wrap my brain around what was going on between my sobs.  Those who have gone through it know, that as instantly as things change when you find out you are pregnant, they instantly change back.  That moment is when I truly realized I had lost my CHILD.  My broken heart was desperately begging God to help me understand what was happening.  I honestly was never angry at God, but I wanted to know WHY.  I never thought, "Well maybe He didn't mean for this to happen."   I never asked God "why me?".  I KNEW He had sovereignly ordained this for my life, but I wanted to know WHY.  My raw confusion and pain brought me to His Word, to find some answers or encouragement to help make sense of it all. 

As I searched for truth in His Word, I realized that what I was actually doing was searching for purpose in my pain.  It all hurt so bad, and just simply looking for something that would make it better or take its place made it infinitely worse.  Because nothing in the future was going to make it any better.  Looking to the future seemed to be the worst part.  So many people would say, "Don't worry, Julene.  You'll be able to have another one, I just know it.  Most women go on to have so many other babies".  While I never harbored anger or frustration at people for saying this to me, as I know they were just trying to encourage me, that exact statement actually brought discouragement to my heart instead.  This was because I knew I was not guaranteed another baby.  I was not promised parenthood.  I was not told I will someday have a house full of children.  God did not promise me that I would have this gift.  My heart wanted to scream, "Stop saying I will have more, because you and I don't know that!  And what about the one I lost?!".  

The months following the miscarriage were incredibly painful, both physically and emotionally.  They consisted of 3 rounds of an inducing medicine (doses given to women during miscarriage are 12 times the normal amount since there is not full term baby to naturally encourage labor) putting me into 3 painful labors that all failed to pass the baby, followed by an emergency D&C the day before Thanksgiving, and a month of additional medical complications and infections in my uterus, requiring antibiotics.   I fervently kept writing in my journal, as each disheartening doctor's visit (I had to have 6 ultrasounds) came and went.  "Nothing in the future makes this any better.  Looking to the future seems to be the worst part.  But, if your pain has a purpose, there is a reason to hold on to hope.  There is a greater reason for our baby dying than coming full term.  Rex’s life has a greater purpose for being only 3 months old rather than being born.  Despite our grief and pain, God has a plan and is using our baby’s short life to further His kingdom somehow.  Rex’s life is still purposeful for its short time, bringing Glory to God.  It makes it all worth it knowing that God planned it this way so that He would use it glorify Himself.  That means our first child was a part of God’s master plan and His life had just as much purpose as my life.  I cling to that, because that is what He promises: purpose in our pain".

Don't get me wrong.  I hope I will someday have a house full of kiddos, but my hope is not IN that.  The peace rising above the pain raging in my heart is not from looking to the future of trying to have more kids.  If anything, that is still one of the biggest sources of fear for me.  What if I can't have more...What if another one dies...What if it takes years...  The questions didn't stop and haven't stopped.  But in the meantime, my hope and peace is not in what is seen but rather what is unseen.  

When the fear, grief, pain, and tears take over my heart, I listen to this over and over and over again by John Piper and the song, "Though You Slay Me" by Shane and Shane.  

http://www.desiringgod.org/messages/do-not-lose-heart
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyUPz6_TciY

"We do not lose heart because every single moment of our affliction in the path of obedience — whether from sickness or slander — fallen nature or fallen people — all of it is meaningful. That is, all of it — unseen to our eyes —is producing something, preparing something, for us in eternity.
This glory, that God will show us and give us, is beyond imagination. “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). And more than that. There are special glories in the age to come brought about by your particular afflictions. That’s what verse 17 says: Your affliction is preparing [producing] for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”
That is what I mean by saying every moment of your affliction is meaningful. It has meaning. It is doing something. Causing something. Bringing about something glorious. You can’t see this. The world can’t see this. They think, and you are tempted to think, this suffering is meaningless. It’s not doing anything good. I can’t see any good coming out of this. That’s what you feel if you focus on the seen.
To which Paul responds, look to the things that are unseen. The promise of God. Nothing in your pain is meaningless. It is all preparing. Working something. Producing something — a weight of glory, a special glory for you. Just for you because of that pain."

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Even though I will never know for sure, maybe Rex's little life's purpose was SOVEREIGNLY chosen to be used an divinely appointed arrow, pointing people to the all-wise and perfect and loving God of the universe with an unseen Hope awaiting us for eternity....

My heart still aches for Rex, and the difficulty of this road has not lessened, but as each painful moment comes crashing in along the way, God reminds me to look not to what is seen....

This is my story.  This is my song.  YOU are immeasurably more.

This is my story. This is my song.

“More than all we ask, than all we seek.

All our hopes and dreams,

You are immeasurably more”.

~Rend Collective

This has been quite the theme of our 2015 year.  I listened to this song above by Rend Collective over and over when we were praying and thinking about pursuing Ryan’s job opportunity going to China.  Our heads were swimming with all of the possibilities of what overseas travel would bring us.  Who would Ryan reach with the Gospel there?  Would we move there?  What grand adventures were we going to have?  How would we see God working?  What will he do, since we are imagining so much? Don’t lose heart.  He’s up to something.

As we started the job, we found it to be very different than expected.  It was exciting at first, but the glamor of it all quickly faded, as the distance apart truly sunk in, and the reality of having a traveling husband came into light.  Our grand ideas of what could be weren't coming into picture.  Ok, God, how is this immeasurably more than we hoped?  Don’t lose heart.  He’s up to something.

We planned our Alaska trip.  Training, anticipating, and conquering.  The splendor, vastness and simplicity of the deep wilderness astounded our hearts.  We loved every minute.  On the flight back, I thought, “I could do this my whole life time.  But Julene, where would it end?  There is always somewhere you would want to go”.   It hit me how travel was a huge let down, because it would never be enough.  Ok God, how is this immeasurably more than I dreamed?  Don’t lose heart.  He’s up to something.

We went off of birth control after we got back in June, and started trying to have a baby in July.  On September 30th, we were overjoyed to find that we were expecting.  A mix of fear, joy, worry, excitement, terror, and thankfulness filled my heart.  Through the next few months, we eagerly anticipated the upcoming year.  Slowly as we told people, the thoughts of “the baby’s ok, right?” crept in our hearts.  The week of our first appointment came, and I struggled with major anxiety that week.  The night before our appointment, I wrote out all of my anxieties, and wrote out scripture verses that stuck in my heart.  In Mathew 28:6, I had boldly underlined, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.”  Peace flooded my heart, and I thought that Jesus had conquered death.  What more could He do for me?  I went into our first appointment with peace.  Don’t lose heart.  He’s up to something.

That appointment did not turn out like I had wanted.  Instead of hearing my baby’s heartbeat, I listened to the doctor’s silence during the ultrasound, searching for any sign of life.  Instead of making an appointment for my 2nd trimester visits, I made an appointment to confirm my baby had died.  Instead of immense joy and excitement, indescribable sorrow and grief unlike anything I had every experienced swept over my soul.  Deep sobs rose in my heart and body that evening and didn’t go away for a few days and weeks.  As I dealt with the emotional pain, the physical pain that continued on and on only reminded me what was happening.   Ok God, how is this immeasurably more than we asked?  Don’t lose heart.  He’s up to something.

He’s up to something.  More than any job experience, travel bonuses, world opportunity – He is immeasurably more.  More than any wilderness adventure, culture immersion, or life freedom – He is immeasurably more.  More than any pregnancy, baby or parenthood – He is immeasurably more.

I lost my son.  Indescribable grief, pain, sorrow.   I would never wish this upon anyone.  And it was in the midst of my grief, not my joy, where He showed me what He was up to.  He also lost his Son.  Only his was by choice.  To save ME.  He knew immeasurably more pain than I would ever know.  So that I never would have to know it.  So that I could know He was immeasurably more.  More than anything else in this world.  Any gift, any pain, experience.  HE was immeasurably more.  I “knew” this truth before, but I’ve KNOWN it in a whole new way.  And I won’t truly KNOW it fully until I meet Him someday.

Rex Anderson Walker’s life has already had an immense purpose.  My heart has seen how immeasurably more He is.  This is my story.  This is my song.  He is immeasurably more.