In October 2008, my pregnant sister called me up one morning crying. She explained that baby Rainier had died inside of her. My brain immediately went numb and into a fog. I had two kids of my own by that point and I couldn't believe that such a terrible thing was happening to my very own sister. All I could do was weep for her and Brandon. Their wound is also very deep. The passing of two years and the arrival of baby Sequoia has only slightly dulled the edge of the pain.
No one expects to lose their child. In both of these cases, they were first-born sons. You go through life expecting to grow old and have your children take care of you and be buried by them. No one prepares themselves emotionally to lose a child.
Now I too am joining this grievous, terrible club. Yet in a sense, I am not a full member. Miracle is returning to her birth family on October 4, but we have every indication & promise that we will get to see her 1-2 days/week for the foreseeable future. I am reminded of 1 Cor 7:29-31, which says "From now on those who have wives should live as if they had none; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away." Did Paul intend this passage to apply directly to my situation? I doubt it. But to have something "yet have it not" feels very apt. What does it mean to share my daughter with another mother, father, family?
Divorcees experience such quandries when children are involved, especially when their former spouse remarries. How do you embrace the other parents of your children? We are fortunate that Miracle is so young and I do not have to explain any of the why's behind this complex situation.
Losing children is actually a common theme in the Bible. Adam and Eve had to bury their son Abel, the first person to be murdered as a consequence of their disobedient, sinful choice in the Garden of Eden. It was a double loss, for they also effectively lost their son Cain (the murderer) who was naturally estranged from them by his terrible deed. To add to it all, they lived for centuries with this guilt and loss.
In one of the most challenging passages of scripture (Genesis 22), God called Abraham to offer his long-awaited son Isaac as a sacrifice. This request absolutely fails human logic. By appealing to faith, Heb. 11:17-19 offers a passable explanation. "By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, 'It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.' Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death."
Another wrenching account of losing a child occurs when Jacob's favoritism and Joseph's bragging lead his brothers to sell him into slavery. To avoid any consequences, they grab a play out of their dad's playbook and deceive him into thinking a wild animal ate him. Gen 37:34-35 describes Jacob's reaction. "Then Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days. All his sons and daughters came to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted. 'No,' he said, 'in mourning will I go down to the grave to my son.' So his father wept for him." Anyone who has lost a child can identify with the feeling that this grief and mourning is so great that it will never end.
In Judges 11:30-31, Jephthah makes the foolish vow to sacrifice to God the first living thing that came out of his home to greet him, if only God will help him win the battle. Sadly, his only child, a daughter, comes out first. God had established in Numbers 30 how to handle vows. Husbands or fathers could actually nullify the foolish vows of young women or their wives. However, verse 30:2 states, "When a man makes a vow to the LORD or takes an oath to obligate himself by a pledge, he must not break his word but must do everything he said." After his daughter went through a period of mourning with her friends, Jephthah followed through on his rash vow to the LORD.
In 1 Sam 4:17-18, when the high priest Eli hears that his sons are dead and the ark of the LORD has been captured by the Philistines, he falls off his chair and dies from a broken neck.
David lost two children. In 2 Sam 11-12, he gets Bathsheba pregnant and murders her husband to hide his guilt. David appears to pull off the deceitful deed. Bathsheba mourns an appropriate length of time and then David takes her as his wife and she bears him a son. God then sends Nathan to David to rebuke him for his sin and deliver the LORD's consequence: the child will die.
As soon as Nathan leaves, the child gets sick and David fasts and prays and sleeps on the ground, all as a last-ditch appeal to God. Seven days later, the child dies and the servants are afraid to let David know what happened. But after David confirms the child's death, he cleans himself up and eats some food. This is the exact opposite of Jewish mourning protocol, which involved heavy crying after a loved one's death. David explained in 2 Sam 12:22-23, "While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, 'Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.' But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me."
I feel very similar to David in this situation. Like David I have wept, mourned, and pleaded with God to enable us to adopt Miracle. However, the very opposite has happened, yet I am at peace with God's decision. For one thing, I could not bear any longer the burdensome ambiguity of "she might go back but she might stay with us." Our family needed definition for the situation. Second, (I think) I am surrendered to God on this matter, but only for the present situation. If and when we no longer get to see Miracle 1-2 days per week, I know I will enter yet another grief cycle and then God will grant me the grace to adjust to that as well. It also helps that I am not (yet) experiencing a complete, total, irrevokable loss, unlike my family members above.
Years later, David lost another son to death (Absalom). The reality is that David had lost Absalom's heart much earlier. For some reason, David did a very poor parenting job with most of his children. For example, 1 Kings 1:6 explains why David's son Adonijah rebelled: "His father had never interfered with him by asking, 'Why do you behave as you do?'" The lone exception to this pattern of poor parenting appears to be Solomon, the second son of Bathsheba, as indicated in Prov. 4:3-4.
The story is that Absalom murdered one of his half-brothers and was sent away from the court. After awhile, he was restored and David welcomed him back. At this point, Absalom went out and "stole the hearts of Israel." After several years, he garnered sufficient political support and crowned himself king. David and his household fled eastward to the Jordan River. During the big battle that later ensued, Absalom was killed and the rebellion was ended. Rather than rejoicing at the recovery of his kingdom, David loudly mourns the loss of his son Absalom with all the vigor he can muster as a father. "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!" (2 Sam 18:33). I think all parents who have lost children can identify with this feeling. Unfortunately, David was also the king and could not abandon those responsibilities. Instead of returning with celebration over the victory, the soldiers see his reaction and quietly reenter the city as if they had lost the battle. Joab wisely advises David to pull it together sufficiently so that he can congratulate his men and avoid losing his kingdom a second time.
This blog will grow far too long if we cover all the Biblical episodes of loss in such depth, so I will but mention the following bullet points.
2 Kings 4: the Shunammite woman receives a son as a gift from God, but then he dies from heat stroke. In desperation she drags Elisha to his room, and Elisha raises him back to life through the power of God.
Job 1: Job loses all his children in a single day when Satan strikes their house with a tornado.
Ezek 24:15-27: Ezekiel loses his wife ("the delight of your eyes") and God uses it as an object lesson for the stubborn Israelites.
Many of Jesus' greatest miracles occurred when parents begged him to heal a child on the brink of death, or who had already died. Some of the greatest boldness toward Jesus was demonstrated by parents desperate for their children to be healed.
Matt 15:21-28. Jesus heals the Canaanite woman's daughter after some verbal reparte.
Mark 5:21-43. Jesus raises a synagogue ruler's daughter from the dead.
Mark 9:14-29. Jesus heals a demon-possessed boy after the famous line from his father, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"
Luke 7:11-17. Jesus raises a widow's son back to life.
John 4:43-54. Jesus heals the son of a royal official, who begged him, "Come down before my child dies."
Lastly, while reflecting on Miracle's return to her birth family, I rediscovered a spiritual parallel that I have found extremely meaningful and comforting: God knows what it is like to lose a child, too. In America, it is so easy to take the story of Jesus for granted. But please reconsider with me what it was like for God to give up his only son.
From John 1:1-3, we understand that Jesus was with his Father from the very beginning. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.” Their relationship was so intimate that Jesus is considered the spoken expression, the very essence of God. As the only begotten son (John 3:16), Jesus was of the species “God” (Phil 2:6). Jesus is everything we could possibly ever know about God as projected into our dimensions of time and space.
I think of my own relationship with my physical father. While I share many physical, intellectual, and behavioral characteristics, we are distinct and different. I have never been mistaken for my dad, except by my grandmother in the last stages of her life. People who know us both can see a strong resemblance in some ways, but it doesn’t take long to find some differences. Jesus’ relationship with his Father was different. The two were so close, so unified, that they were truly indistinguishable. As Jesus told Philip in John 14:9-12, “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say ‘Show us the Father?’ Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you are not just my own. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work. Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, or at least believe on the evidence of the miracles themselves.”
My life has a very different trajectory and purpose than my father’s. I have spent my life pursuing my own interests and dreams. Yet Jesus lived his entire human existence to point humanity back to his Father God. Consider the level of intimate understanding between the two of them. To properly represent someone, you must know how they think and react to most minute detail. Developing this ability creates tremendous intimacy. It is therefore no wonder that at the end of Jesus’ life, the most excruciating aspect of his torture was because he had been so connected with God.
When God placed the sins of the world on his own Son, it separated them for the very first time. Some of Jesus’ last words were a quote of Psalm 22:1, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” In my relationship with Miracle, Casey has been doing all the drop-offs and pick-ups with her birthmom. I have been spared the tortuous experience of trying to hand Miracle off to another individual. Even after 20-30 minutes of adjustment with Casey in the room, Miracle will often cling to Casey and must be physically pried away. When Miracle sees Casey or me after a visitation, she shrieks in delight and runs to hug us with a brilliant smile and light in her eyes. After only 28 months of knowing one another, our bond is extremely tight. I can’t imagine what it was like for the Father and Jesus to be separated after having known one another for 15 billion years. My God knows what it’s like to be separated from a child and I find this identification very meaningful.
There is another mystery that I have pondered many times and will never quite understand fully. The purpose for God losing his child is summarized by these four scriptures.
God’s love and generosity are far beyond mine. He loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son. It was not because we already loved God so much; God loved us first and most. In my heart, I am not filled with love and generosity for Miracle’s birthmom. We loved Miracle from the day we brought her home. Our love for her birthmom has been a very slow growth process. I am not willingly returning Miracle to her birthmom out of my love for her; it is a government order. God’s love had two objects: his Son and humanity. My love is primarily for Miracle, and secondarily (but growing) for her birthmom.
Second, God’s sacrifice of his Son was not for good people. It was for very stinky, slimy, disgusting sinful people. I might appear to be a reasonably good person on the outside, but when I sin, it is very ugly. It was for and at these very moments that Jesus died for me. Over the years, I have pondered how Jesus suffered and died to save a wide variety of folks who seemingly don't deserve it:
· The incoherent, obnoxious bum on the street who drank his life away
· Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and the like
· Shady business guys that steal from old people
· Child pornographers
I marvel at God’s amazing love. I have sincerely tried to imagine giving any of my children up in order to give the folks above a second chance. Even in my most generous moments, I could not possibly do what God did. I love my children so much more than any of these people and I could never sacrifice their life. As Romans 5 indicates, POSSIBLY for a good person, but that’s a big maybe.
There are two issues here. First, we all have an innate sense that none of the people above deserve such a sacrifice. The grace of Christianity goes against our very fundamental instincts. The reality is that none of us deserve heaven and the tremendous grace offered us through Jesus. This much I can get. The second issue is where my hangup lies: there is no guarantee that sacrificing my child would inspire the people above to repent and live a changed life. That’s what makes God’s love and grace so amazing. There were no strings attached when Jesus laid down his life for us. The outcome was completely uncertain. It’s entirely possible that no one would have responded, and heaven would have been essentially devoid of humanity. What a great loss for the Creator for the entire creation to do a “one and gone.” Yet I think God feels exactly that way about each individual who doesn't choose him.
It’s a good thing I am not God. No one would have had the chance to repent, for I am not that selfless, not that idealistic, not that generous, and not that willing to give such a gift without any strings attached. Thankfully, God is all that and more.
Rather than seeing our experience as losing a child, my prayer is that we can continue our relationship with Miracle, and that in fact we will gain a friendship with her birthmom. Hopefully someday I will gain her as a sister in Christ where we both understand how completely fortunate we are to stand in God’s grace after all we’ve done as sinners. At her baptism we will laugh, hug, cry, and laugh again at God's truly amazing and bold plan. To me, that is Romans 5:1-5 coming true in giving me real hope:
“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”
Todd, I am in awe of your insight. I am amazed with your use of the scriptures and your heart for Miracle. I too hope and pray that God's will is being done through your family and with Miracle and her birth mother. I don't understand the decisions made by the Department, the courts, and other professionals at times, but I appreciate you and Casey as foster parents and spiritual guidance you have provided for Miracle which lacks in foster care. Thank you for sharing your family and heart. Many of us care even as years go by...big hugs to you and your family!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Todd. It is hard to make sense of the insensible. Your open heart is inspiring. With all my love, Shelley
ReplyDeleteTodd you have been and continue to be in my prayers and admiration. No one can understand your grief in this world, but as you've shown here, God can understand, can relate, can attend. And He will.
ReplyDeletelove,
Scott
Todd (and Casey),
ReplyDeleteMy heart does hurt for you and I will continue to pray. Your faith is amazing and God sees it.
Love Your sister In Christ,
Crystal