Pregnancy Loss: Reflections on our 3 miscarriages
I’ve so missed sharing with you, all of you (guys, you’re welcome too)! I’ve missed writing, as that is often how God helps clarify and solidify what He’s teaching me. I have not had an hour of free time (besides morning Word/prayer times and Sunday afternoons when I nap!), since early September–no exaggeration. We have been in a season of running hard, and I don’t regret a second of it. It has been rich, fruitful, difficult, and so very good.
Seasons are just that, seasons. In two weeks, when the bulk of my speaking commitments are through and Heidi’s play is over, we’re taking off for a week as a family, to rest and play together. I’m excited for that time together, but I don’t feel desperate for it. This season has been good. That season will be good. Paul said he knew how to roll with every season and be content in it, not just when it’s over. I guess that’s part of what I’m learning too.
Many of you have traveled with us on this journey of having more children. Long story short, in 2016, after a 40-day fast, through a number of confirmations and circumstances, Jeff and I both sensed God leading us to get a vasectomy reversal and have two more children. He gave us two names: Honor and Justice. I was completely caught off guard when Honor was lost. I’d never experienced miscarriage, and God used it to bring up many thing in both Jeff and me that needed to be worked through. He gave me a new girl name: Hope.
Several months later, I was pregnant again. Thrilled. This time I carried 11 weeks before learning Our Hope is in Heaven. Physically, that miscarriage was horrendous, but afterward, I felt tremendous peace. The timing just so happened that just two days later we had a beach vacation planned with our dearest friends, and I felt enveloped in a cocoon of love, prayer, grace, not to mention amazing meals and tons of relaxation. There was grief, but it was like falling into a fluffy friendship cloud of comfort.
In Scripture, especially in the OT, we often see names having great significance, often related to the spiritual state of the parents’ hearts, or what was going on in the culture at large. I never experienced any of this sort of significance with our older children, but for whatever reason, this time around names have been very significant. Also, each miscarried child has had a name.
The day I miscarried with Hope, we had our church’s prayer meeting that night–so clearly I heard “Hallelujah.” I wrote the name across the top of my journal page, then jotting down “Halle” (rhymes with Sally) for short.
I loved that name, and was so excited. I thought she would be born next. A few months later I became pregnant, and two trusted friends separate shared a dream/vision that I was having a boy. And I was:
Justice.
Our amazing, chubby bundle of smiles, Justice has forever changed our lives. His late arrival and delivery brought its own series of lessons (Wasted work; Joy; Psalm 131, Preparations; Delivery). We can’t imagine our lives without him.
He was worth the wait.
So you can imagine our joy when, this September, I found out I was pregnant again. Yes! I had hoped to have baby #2 before I turned 40, and this would make my delivery date just a couple weeks before that date. I started praying for little Halle, our little bean-sized baby.
I did kind of wonder what this journey would entail. Last spring, I had two friends separately share the song, “Nothing can take my Hallelujah” with me. I thought, perhaps, difficult circumstances would surround her birth. I thought the physical birth of “Praise Yahweh” would represent joy in the midst of difficulty.
My midwife scheduled an ultrasound at 7 weeks to see how everything looked. We hadn’t told the kids yet, wanting to wait until everything looked good, so I sneaked in an ultrasound while Heidi was at theater practice and Jeff was with the boys.
It showed baby measuring 5.5 weeks, with no heartbeat. My heart sank.
BUT. Both the technician and my midwife were convinced everything was fine. Often dating can be off, and everything looked good otherwise, so they figured it was slightly too early for heartbeat, so we’d “just wait” and see in a week or two.
While in the office, I thought I was fine. But as soon as I got in my car, a torrent of emotion came. I sobbed to God,
“I cannot do this again. I cannot keep having my heart torn apart.”
I begged him to please let this baby live.
Part of what was overwhelming was the fact that I had eleven speaking engagements this fall, including 5 straight weekends of traveling, giving 20+ messages, plus Heidi’s theater schedule of 3 days/week and a solid week of working backstage for dress-rehearsals plus working eight shows. I had already felt overwhelmed by how to navigate all the commitments.
And now I had to “just wait” to see if the baby inside me was dead or alive? We hadn’t shared about the pregnancy. Our kids didn’t know, families didn’t know. It felt strangely lonely to just keep going along as usual, not knowing whether I carried life or death. That evening, after my ultrasound, a friend and I were hosting a baby shower. It was the last thing I wanted to do, honestly. I was exhausted from crying and my flesh so wanted to just be home and be sad all by myself. But so clearly I knew God was saying, Set yourself aside for the sake of serving others.
But it’s so HARD to set ourselves aside. It takes dying! And there’s nothing more clear in Scripture:
“In humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
Phil. 2:3-4
Every Christlike act of love takes the willingness to set ourselves aside for the sake of serving others. This is the very essence of what Jesus did, and that He calls us to do.
It takes humbling ourselves to prioritize others’ needs above our feelings. Philippians 2:5-8 says this is exactly what Jesus did.
The next weekend, I was flying to Colorado to speak at a conference. I was nervous about flying, but once again, knew God’s will was clear: Trust Me. It would take me trusting Him with my body, my heart, my emotions. I was still very sick with morning sickness, so it was a tiring trip, but the ladies were amazing and I could SEE God be strong as I felt so weak. It felt good to focus on others and get the joy of seeing God move.
On my flight home, as I sat exhausted with my hand resting on my belly, praying, I heard the young guy next to me telling the person next to him how grateful he was that his girlfriend was able to get an abortion for $75 instead of $400.
Tears silently slipped down my cheek. For him. For this broken world. For all that’s just so wrong. For the babies unwanted and the babies so desperately wanted and the incongruity of it all and knowing this is only a drop in the ocean of sorrow that is a reality in our world. And knowing the Father can and will sort it all out but the meantime…
We groan inwardly as we wait eagerly…
Rom. 8:21-23
And I whispered into the darkness, “Sort it out, God. Please. Sort it out.”
{Time to get back to my kiddos; I’ll write more soon}
Why is it so hard to trust the process?
Hello, friends! I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much around here lately. We’re in a busy season, but I do have a story of God’s faithfulness to share with you soon. Hoping to write about it tonight. For today, I wanted to pass along this praise, of how good God has been to us as we journey through the homeschool process. Even if you don’t homeschool, there are so many ways that it’s JUST SO HARD to trust the process, to be patient, to wait, to stay the course. I hope this can be encouraging to you. More soon… Thanks for reading. Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool…
Wins that look like losses
Even now, though I don’t know his name, my eyes fill with tears thinking of him. He doesn’t know that he gained himself a prayer warrior last night.
Sixty-seven youth, aged 8-18 filed into the building for auditions for the Christian Youth Theater’s upcoming performance of Mary Poppins. Widely varying abilities, all shapes and sizes, each one would take his or her turn on stage, all alone, standing on the X in front of the six artistic judges. Each one would sing, some would say a few lines.
All would show tremendous courage.
This was my first experience watching youth auditions, and my eyes welled up with tears more than once. I was so incredibly inspired by the courage each kid demonstrated and truly stunned by the level of talent displayed. These kids can SING! One girl sang I Have Confidence from The Sound of Music and it sounded straight-up Julie Andrews–amazing!
But the very best auditioner of the whole night, the one who brought me to full-tears, the one who showed the most valiant display of courage that maybe I have ever witnessed, the biggest win of the night…
…was a little boy who never even made it to the song.
As he stood up I could barely even see his head, he was very small. Within seconds, as he made his way toward the front, we could all see his state. His dark head bowed low, eyes straight down at his feet, shoulders hunched over. His dark-skinned arms folded tightly in on his chest, his hands wringing back in forth in obvious agitation.
We held our breath. I leaned forward in my seat. Everything in me came alive in attention. Come on, champ. You can do this.
He shuffled his way to the front, he tried to look up at the judges. He tried to remember what to say.
The coordinator smiled kindly and offered, “What’s your name?” He mumbled something no one could hear. She smiled. “Great. What song are you singing?” He mumbled something else no one could hear.
I leaned forward and smiled, fighting back tears, desperately trying to impart some trace of courage into his precious soul.
It was silent.
His fear was palpable.
And then the music began.
Wild panic filled his eyes. I swallowed hard. Please, Jesus. Please.
He stood, stricken, for a few agonizing moments.
And then he fled, in a dead run, off the stage.
We all exhaled.
Oh God. I wanted to leap from my seat and run and find him and swoop him up and hide him in my arms. I wanted to somehow impart to his soul that he is precious. That he was the most brave person of the whole night. That the God of the Universe was so incredibly proud of him and that he had value and worth and he was a PRIZE. That he was a STAR.
The audience applauded, just as we did for every performer. Oh Jesus let him know the applause of heaven. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him in the back, tucked into the arms of his light-skinned Mama. I thanked God for her, I wanted to hold HER, as I knew she probably needed to curl up onto someone’s arms just as much as he did.
She showed as much courage as anyone. A little later I saw her slip quietly out the back door, holding her sweet boy’s hand. Oh Jesus please bless her.
The rest of the night went smoothly. As the girls and I got into our car, we talked about that little boy, how he was the most brave of all. On the drive home, we prayed over him.
I prayed that he would grow to be a mighty man of God, that God would do astounding things in his life and that someday he would look back at this day, the day that felt like a fail, and he would know that it was a WIN. That just going up on that stage was a death-blow to the enemy of fear, and just because he didn’t make it to the song, IT WAS STILL A WIN.
Oh friend–Do you know this? Do you know that just the fact that you are doing [fill in the blank], that is a WIN? EVERY step of obedience, EVERY courageous act, EVERY time you say yes to Jesus and you do that thing that scares you half to death, that is a win! Even if you run off stage at the last minute. Even if you end up in a puddle of tears. May you hear the applause of heaven!
And, may we have compassion enough to recognize that what may be easy for us may take tremendous courage for those around us. May we set aside our preoccupation with strength, beauty, success, achievement, and celebrate the quiet courage that it sometime takes to just show up.
Cheering for you. Thanks for reading.
The surprising path to rest
Ouch. That stings. I can usually tell I’m hurt by someone or something because I inwardly begin a monologue about why I’m justified in feeling how I do, how I would explain to someone else why this was so hurtful, or I would begin mentally drafting a message to the person explaining why what they did was wrong, etc.
In a word, I protest.
Thankfully, I’m (slowly) learning a better way. I sat down with the Word, the only Truth, the Anchor, and slipped into quiet conversation with my Heavenly Father, and asked Him to help me see the situation through His eyes, not mine.
Mine are often so desperately clouded by pride and immaturity.
My eye fell to my passage for the day, beginning in Psalm 94:
Blessed is the man whom you discipline, O LORD, and whom you teach out of your law, to give him rest from days of trouble, until a pit is dug for the wicked.
Ps. 94:12
Ah, yes. That’s the truth of it, right? We get stuck on the details of the situation, forgetting that God’s gracious hand is over all and in all and through all.
Discipline. It comes in the form of stings.
I had a smile. Of course I’m back in the days of toddler-training, and I’m rediscovering all over again how my Father trains me.
Justice, of course, is a constant joy in our lives. He’s our miracle baby and we can’t imagine life without him. He’s also SO VERY BUSY. Just this morning he played a fun game breaking eggs all over the floor. Well, back in June I had an eye-opening experience where I realized I’d really been slacking in disciplining him. One day he was climbing up the fireplace (again) and I was too busy to discipline him, and Heidi said,
“It’s only going to get harder to train him if you wait.”
I knew she was right. The truth was, it was unloving of me to allow Justice to behave in ways that I’d only have to later discipline him for. Almost like it was deceiving. My actions were saying, “This is fine today, but tomorrow it won’t be.” I knew what I needed to do.
So I set aside three days for training. With my bright-pink little lightweight ruler (weighs .5 ounce!) I spent every waking moment near Justice. We went through all the various activities we always do, and with my little ruler-flick on his thigh (just enough for a little sting), I taught him the new normal–what things are okay and what things are not. Some things took a long time, I let him play with a marble but gave him a flick if he put it in his mouth (I want to make sure he’s safe around small objects). It took about ten flicks before he finally figured it out, but then he never put it in his mouth again! The kids sat there and played marbles with him and he happily played along and never put it in his mouth.
When he would obey, I’d cheer and hug him and he was obviously SO pleased. It really was only about 1.5 hours total of nonstop training, and then just the sight of the ruler and my word no and he would obey.
The biggest thing I noticed was how much HAPPIER he was. It was like his spirit settled because he finally knew what he was supposed to do to please his mama.
Now, obviously I have to continue this, especially in new situations, or as he gains new physical abilities, the process of learning obedience will be lifelong, but I just felt like it was such a picture for me with my Father.
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:4-11
I had never noticed how it specifically says, “Endure hardship AS discipline.” Now, obviously the source of our hardship can be a lot of different things (physical suffering, offenses from others, emotional struggles) but in terms of how we RESPOND to it, we are to respond to it AS DISCIPLINE. That is, I can accept that this hardship is helping me to know more clearly how I can please my Father. It’s training! And even though “no discipline seems pleasant” (there’s a sting!) I also see how much HAPPIER Justice is after being trained, and I know the same is true for me. Even though it’s painful, it’s cleansing. Scriptures says,
Blows that wound cleanse away evil; strokes make clean the innermost parts.
Prov. 20:30
So does this have to do with rest?
Often we think that we can’t really train our children because if we really disciplined for every misbehavior then we’d be discipling all day. Well, yes and no. The truth is, YES, it will take all day for ONE DAY. Or maybe 2-3. But 2-3 days of consistent training works wonders in a small child, and the truth is–in the long run you will be REST.
See, we so often get it backwards. We’re too tired to discipline, it’s too exhausting. We need rest. So we don’t train, and then we end up exhausted because our children are whiny, wild, rude, annoying us to no end.
I wrote the following verse on the back of my little pink ruler so it would remind me of the truth:
Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.
Prov. 29:17
The truth is, if I put in the work now, in the long-run it will bring rest and delight to my soul. AND, as Psalm 94 says, when we are the recipients of discipline, it will also ultimately give us rest. We will have rest in the mist of “days of trouble” — when the world is crazy and full of turmoil, our hearts will have rest because we’ve allowed God to discipline us.
We find true rest not by avoiding the hard stuff. By doing the hard work of discipline–both giving and receiving–we ultimately get the reward of entering into true soul-rest and delight.
If you are in the midst of disciplining, or of receiving a sting of discipline, hang in there! It will bear the fruit of rest in your life! Thanks for reading.
A clean heart
“Get your house ready.”
That was one of the four clear directives God gave me when the Renew ladies began the year with a fast. I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, honestly, so I sort of ignored it. It didn’t seem nearly as important as praying, reading the Word, and ditching schadenfreude.
But just a few months later, the same idea surfaced again. Not one, not two, but four friends had different dreams, all in one week’s time, that had to do with being prepared. For what, it wasn’t clear, but for me personally it brought back to mind the orders that I had ignored from a months before. I took some specific steps to put things in place, but wasn’t sure what else it meant.
Fast forward to our 16th anniversary. Anniversaries are always a great time to evaluate and talk honestly about where you are and how you need to grow as individuals and as a family. One thing that surfaced, rather dramatically, was how overwhelmed I felt with hosting and keeping up our home, on top of all the other things I was juggling. I was praying about whether to rearrange our budget so I could hire a housecleaner, but having someone come in twice a month and scrub my toilet still didn’t seem like it would solve the bigger issue of overwhelm I was feeling.
Thankfully, my husband is a godly, humble, wise man. He listened to me and cared for me. He heard my genuine cry for help. And though he wasn’t sure what to do, he was willing to do whatever it would take to help me.
I’m chuckling to myself because all this sounds very dramatic and then I’m going to tell you that the FlyLady changed our lives and that shining your sink and swishing your toilet is the path to freedom. Haha—it sounds ridiculous! Bear with me.
Chances are, most of you have already discovered this secret—a few simple habits, done every single day, can change the course of your life.
Something inside reminded me about FlyLady, an online gal who helps you overcome CHAOS (Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome) and gain simple habits that will help you bless your family and your home. I downloaded her app and resolved to do exactly what she told me, no questions asked.
Jeff, bless his soul, also downloaded her app and resolved to do his part as well. It takes a REAL MAN to be willing to put the FlyLady app on his phone!
Day by day, I did what she said, and I. Was. Shocked.
No more overwhelm. No more chaos. No more spending my entire Monday getting ready for Prayer Meeting/Dinner and then my entire Tuesday cleaning up afterwards. The next Monday I found myself with two free hours before anyone arrived. Food was made, my house was clean, the kids were occupied. I SAT DOWN AND READ A BOOK FOR TWO HOURS, PEOPLE.
I found myself so excited to have people over because I wasn’t dreading all the housework that needed to be done.
Now, you might be thinking, “No one cares if your house is clean, just have people over and don’t worry about it.”
I get that. I really do. I have never stressed about having the perfect house. I have NEVER not had someone over just because my house wasn’t clean. I’m so over that. But can I just be honest? It IS stressful when my bathroom is disgusting and the kids rooms are a disaster and my kitchen drawers are full of filth and I’m having twenty people over for dinner, and quite frankly true freedom, at least for me, isn’t “just don’t worry about it.”
Personally, I find joy and peace when things are ordered, reasonably clean (home-clean, not museum-clean), and I can focus on loving people.
The other huge difference I noticed was that during the first eight days of following FlyLady, we were able to have Family Night time with our big kids after Justice was in bed, for eight days in a row! (After that we had family in town which was fun too!)
We were able to have 1-2 hours of quality time with our big kids every single night. Why? Because everything was already in order. There was no martyr-mommy scurrying around the house trying to get some sort of order in place before the next day. There weren’t piles everywhere. We had finished our tasks, things were in place, and we were FREE to be with each other. Yes, please!
So what does all this have to do with one’s heart? Well, I was trying to put my finger on why this method was so much more successful for me than others. And I realized this:
Before, I cleaned by sight. Now, I cleaned by habit.
Here’s what I mean: before, I would clean things when they looked dirty. (Note: when they looked dirty to me.) In my opinion, it was silly to clean something that didn’t need cleaning. But there’s a subtle arrogance in that philosophy. It assumes that MY perspective is authoritative, and it maintains that only the things that BOTHER ME are worth dealing with.
If dirt doesn’t bother me, then who cares?
What if my guests care?
What if God cares?
Part of embracing a lifestyle of hospitality is recognizing our homes are not our own. They don’t exist only for us. They are meant to be missional outposts, given to us a refuge from the storm, for our families and those around us.
As I obeyed the FlyLady, I learned that I needed to do have certain habits in order to KEEP things clean.
Instead of reacting to dirt, I was preventing it.
Instead of looking for dirt, I was looking to the one who knows better than me about how to keep my house clean. I was humbling myself by recognizing that she knows better than me and if I really want her help I need to do what she says, regardless of what my eyes see.
Do you see where I’m going?
It was painfully clear, through this whole month, that this was just a picture of so much more going on in our hearts.
How often do I really do the work to get my heart clean before God? Do I do it when things get dirty? When my sin gets grubby enough that it starts to bother me? When it’s so visible that it’s embarrassing? When it starts getting in the way of my interactions with others?
Or do I deal with the issues in my heart before I even notice them?
Do I want to live life reacting to my sin, or rather do what God says daily in order to prevent it?
Do I want to spend my life looking for sin, or do I want to spend my life looking to God by cultivating the daily habits of Scripture, prayer, repentance, confession.
Here’s what surprised me most: Staying on top of things, via daily habits, actually requires LESS TIME overall. It’s actually easier, in the long run, to stay on top of things.
The same is true with sin.
The world tells me, “Don’t worry about cleaning your house! Just be authentic! Let people see your dirt! Don’t be ashamed of dirt!”
I know it’s just an over-reaction to the hyper-image-conscious plague of Pinterest, but let’s avoid both ditches.
The world also tells us, “Embrace yourself, just the way you are! Don’t let anyone judge you! Be authentic. Whatever you choose is right! You don’t need to clean yourself up at all!”
And yes, this is an over-reaction to performance-based moralistic religion that’s all about keeping up appearances.
But let’s avoid both ditches.
The truth is, I want a clean heart. Whether you see it, know it, or care about it; I long for a clean heart. Why? Because it’s what I was made for. God made me for freedom. He made me for LIFE. He knows that if I live my life bogged down by invisible sin-dirt I’ll never experience the joy of being free, being CLEAN.
He made a way on the cross, and He makes a way for me daily to come to Him in humble repentance and let Him clean up my heart.
Thank you, FlyLady for helping me learn to clean. Thank you, Jesus for saving my soul.
Create in me a clean heart, O God.
Psalm 51:10
Pray without quarreling
Dutch is neck deep in Frank Peretti. He discovered a stack of his books in our church library, and has barely come for air in the last 8 days. It’s made for some great conversations about prayer and the spiritual realm. It got me thinking about a few things this weekend.
It also came on the heels of a recent study we did on prayer, for our women’s Bibles study. It was fascinating and inspiring, and we spend quite a bit of time on 1 Timothy 2. You are probably familiar with this bit:
First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way.
v. 1-2
Yes! So good. Especially for our day and age, this is an excellent passage to meditate on and keep front and center.
But there’s a bit more that’s also applicable.
A few verses later Paul writes:
I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling.
v. 8
When talking about prayer, why would Paul toss in a bit about anger and quarreling?
Let’s just say, hypothetically, that one Christian leader called people to pray for something, according to Scripture. And then another Christian leader also prayed over this, according to Scripture. And then a whole bunch of other people decided that they didn’t like how one of them prayed, or how the other one prayed, and so they take sides about which side they should really pray like. Next thing we know we aren’t actually praying at all, we’re quarreling about whose side we’re on and whose prayer is better.
In the meantime, God was actually doing something beautiful in response to both men’s prayers, and millions of others who are actually on their knees lifting up holy hands in imperfect prayer, fumbling their way through, uncertain if they’re doing it right but wanting to seek God even if they aren’t doing it perfectly.
Father, thank you for the privilege we have of relating with You in prayer, and even of impacting the course of history through prayer. It is an enormous privilege that we certainly don’t deserve, but we thank you for it. Please help us to simply pray without getting distracted, defensive, or discouraged. We love you so much. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
3 Ways to better-handle criticism
Hey friends! I’m way late in sharing this, we’re in a super busy season right now, but wanted to share this from over at Simple Homeschool. It’s written from the perspective of helping our kids, but these can most certainly be applied (and should be!) to ourselves first and foremost. Hope this can be helpful!
“I need to be able to offer you constructive criticism without you getting upset about it.”
She looked at me coldly. I blinked back tears. It was the worst possible moment for her sweeping criticism. I was tired, had spent the whole day serving others (doing work she wasn’t doing!) and now I was being sat down and told I’d done it wrong. That my motives were wrong! Oy vey!
And then when I was hurt by the criticism I was criticized for being hurt by the criticism! I also had the sinking suspicion her heart toward me was not entirely one of love. She seemed to enjoy putting me in my place.
Do you hear my defensiveness, even in the way I retell the story?….
Read the rest here: https://simplehomeschool.net/criticism/
4 ways to be free from self-pity
She came up after the prayer meeting several months ago and said quietly, “It’s self-pity.”
Ah. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that term in ages, but that was it. We had been praying over a situation, and sort of at a loss for what to pray against. Something was unclear. And that was it. A subtle sin we rarely recognize, self-pity masquerades in other acceptable forms, making it difficult to rid ourselves of its poisonous influence in our lives.
After she brought it up, it was uncanny how often it came up. I could see it so clearly, hidden beneath a thin veil of discouragement, or righteous indignation, or social withdrawal. In my very next conversation with a friend, she confessed that she struggled with … self-pity. The next conversation meandered eventually to … self-pity. It was everywhere, and most of all in me.
After identifying it, I immediately pulled a book off the shelf I hadn’t read in almost 13 years. But I still remember the quote, so vividly, by John Piper:
Consider the relationship between boasting and self-pity. Both are manifestations of pride. Boasting is the response of pride to success. Self-pity is the response of pride to suffering. Boasting says, “I deserve admiration because I have achieved so much.” Self-pity says, “I deserve admiration because I have sacrificed so much.” Boasting is the voice of price in the heart of the strong. Self-pity is the voice of pride in the heart of the weak. Boasting sounds self-sufficient. Self-pity sounds self-sacrificing.
The reason self-pity does not look like pride is that it appears to be needy.
But the need arises from a wounded ego and the desire of the self-pitying is not really for others to see them as helpless, but heroes. The need self-pity feels does not come from a self of unworthiness, but from a sense of unrecognized worthiness. It is the response of un-applauded pride.
Battling Unbelief, p. 51
Ouch. I wish I could make this less convicting, but I can’t. It’s so true. As I reflected on these words for the following months, I began to see my own subtle self-pity-parties happening with alarming frequency. Often hard to see from the outside, it often takes the form of quiet sighs, negative self-talk, mentally nursing perceived injustices, refusing to make our wishes known because “it doesn’t matter what I want.”
It’s poison for your mind and heart, and especially dangerous for moms. In fact, I think self-pity it might be the occupational hazard of motherhood. And honestly, we can’t afford to take it lightly. Jon Bloom writes,
Self-pity is a dangerous, deceitful, heart-hardening sin (Hebrews 3:13). It’s a spiritual deadener, choking faith, draining hope, killing joy, smothering love, fueling anger, and robbing any desire to serve others. And it is a feeder-sin, encouraging us to comfort our poor selves with all manner of sinful indulgence like gossip, slander, gluttony, substance abuse, pornography, and binge entertainment, just to name a few. Self-pity poisons our relationships and is often an underlying cause of our “burnout.”
DesiringGod.org.
Mamas … I say this with all love: Maybe we don’t need more self-care. Maybe we need to fight for freedom from the prison of self-pity.
How? Of course there’s no magic. But I’ve found this to help:
- Name it and ditch it. In my book (link) we talk about the importance of calling it what it is so that we can be free of it. As long as we say, “I’m just struggling with the hardships and injustices done to me,” we won’t be free. If we call it what it is–my wounded pride–we can be FREE. We can confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and cleanse us of all unrighteousness.
- Declare war on it. Resolve immediately, unhesitatingly, and without remorse to absolutely destroy any trace of self-pity you identify in yourself, daily. Ask a trusted friend to help you identify subtle ways it might play out. Think through your day and determine when you are most likely to slip into these patterns. Be on guard and show no mercy.
- Give thanks. You cannot be grateful and sulking at the same time. A consistent habit of giving thanks, daily, will do wonders for working the self-pity out of our hearts. It’ll kill those self-pity weeds before they even crop up.
- Focus outward. Knowing that self-pity is a pride-related sin is enormously helpful, because then we can rest assured that a pursuit of humility will deal it a death-blow. How do we pursue humility? By pursuing the interest of others (Phil 2). When we get busy finding joy outside ourselves, there just isn’t time to nurse internal wounds.
How about you? How do you overcome the subtle sin of self-pity? I’d love to hear the insights God’s given you. Thanks for reading.
My experience with Unplanned: Why I struggled, why I went, what I saw.
You know you’re going to an unusual movie when you’re sitting in a fairly full theater and not a single person has food. No munching on popcorn, no slurping sodas. My own cupholder held kleenex. I’d been forewarned that I’d need them.
Last night, my friends and I went to see Unplanned. I wanted to briefly share my experience with you.
I struggled with the decision on whether or not to go. I am pro-life. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in the lobby of our local Pregnancy Resource Center (then called Crisis Pregnancy Center) putting stickers on notebook pages, looking at the brochures with pictures of tiny, perfectly formed babies on the front. My mom’s coat lapel always had her tiny-feet pin attached. At all times the reminder of this oft-forgotten segment of life. I have wonderful memories of my mom’s involvement–her gentle, kind, caring ways as she interacted with women in crisis.
So why was I hesitant to see the movie? Only because I wasn’t sure the spirit in which it’d be presented. I’ve become convinced that God’s kingdom isn’t accomplished through anger. The Kingdom doesn’t come through arguments on Facebook, and I want to avoid anything that incites anger in me toward others. I know where I stand on this issue, so I didn’t necessarily need a movie to convince me of something I already knew.
But. I also know that my own heart drifts into indifference with alarming frequency. I need to consistently put in front of my face the reality of this world and ask God to please, again, break my heart for the things that break His. I could honestly see both sides–so I wasn’t sure.
I prayed over it for a couple days, then when I really needed to make a decision I went for a prayer walk and asked God. I’m not saying, “Thus saith the Lord,” but what came to mind was Harriet Beecher Stowe and Uncle Tom’s Cabin.
As you probably know, Stowe was a faithful follower of Jesus. Her heart was broken over the reality of slavery and the horrific mistreatment of African-Americans in America in the mid 1800s. She was a writer, a novelist, so she figured the way she could help was by writing a story–a novel that told the truth about the situation at hand.
Little did she know that her little book would change the course of history. In just the first three months after publication it sold 300,000 copies (that’d be like 3 million today!). They couldn’t print copies fast enough.
Abraham Lincoln famously said to her, speaking of the Civil War,
“So you’re the little lady who made this big war.”
I read Uncle Tom’s Cabin several years ago and it completely wrecked me. There were times I felt so convicted I had to put the book down and wait a few days to continue. It made me squirm, weep, repent, and pray. It inspired me and gave me a glimpse into the reality of the slavery-era like nothing I’d read before.
Uncle Tom’s Cabin was so effective because it re-humanized a population that had been dehumanized. That can’t be done by facts and figures, or by arguments over Bible verses. It took art, it took the telling of a story, to radically re-paint African-Americans as what they actually are–precious people made in the image of God. And, it promoted HOPE, forgiveness, the gospel of Jesus Christ, of sacrificial love.
Stowe also shows masterful brilliance in portraying the complexities at work. The lines between good and bad are squiggly and often blurry. She refused to paint all slave-holders as evil and all abolitionists as saints. She lets her readers sit with a great deal of ambiguity and discomfort and conviction. I cannot recommend this novel highly enough.
So this came to mind when I considered seeing Unplanned.
Plus, I read scores of reviews that convinced me the move was done in a spirit of love and humility, with a spirit of redemption and HOPE. Hope is the key word. I could get behind that.
I’m SO GLAD WE WENT. I cannot recommend it highly enough. I will say, I wouldn’t take my kids. Not because of anything inappropriate, but simply because it’s true and the level of intensity is beyond anything I’ve experienced in a movie theater.
I’d simply say: Please go. See for yourself. Yes, it is hard to watch, but it re–humanizes a segment of our population that’s been dehumanized. It helps us understand the real struggle, it fills us with COMPASSION for those women who are faced with this heart-wrenching decision. It condemns the violence and hatred that have surrounded some pro-life movements. It exalts redemption, hope, forgiveness, love. It will re-inspire you to PRAY.
Hopefully I’ll have a chance to share more reflections on the movie, but for now, I invite you to go. It’s only showing now through Thursday night. Thanks so much for considering.
Give your kids a hunger to learn more…
It was the conversation I never dreamed we’d have:
“I don’t think we’re doing enough. School has gotten really easy.”
“Yeah, you said we’d be doing more this year, but we aren’t. Can’t we learn some more things?”
It was the kind of complaining that’s music to a mama’s ears. Both kids lamenting that they’re not learning enough? Both kids actually asking to do more school?
After I picked myself up off the floor, I asked some clarifying questions, to understand what exactly they were wanting. At twelve and ten-years-old, they are mostly independent in their studies, and over the past couple years I’ve slowly decluttered our curriculum, simmering it down to the basic essentials.
I saw so much good coming from having more space, I was hesitant to add anything back in.
But now they were begging me for more. Wasn’t this exactly what I’d hoped for? Wasn’t this the whole point? Don’t they say that cultivating (or recovering) a love of learning was the whole point of these middle-years?
This was it. My confirmation that a love of learning was growing, and that now, now that they were asking for it, I could effectively add more work into their days.
I sat down with paper and asked them each in turn:
Ok, you’re already doing the basics, so what subjects would you like to add? What do you want to learn?