My Anchor Holds

I am pretty much over the sadness, guys. I am OVER broken hearts and crushed dreams. I am over death, decay, destruction...

I know most of you heard the news about Erika, Matt, and Ellison. I don't have a lot of news for you guys other than Erika is obviously devastated. I'm sure Erika will update soon, but for now, please join me in praying for her and Matt. Erika has waited a very long time to be a mom. She tried incredibly hard to stay realistic about the adoption, but to get to the hospital, to have the lawyers come, for the papers to be signed, to be a few hours away from discharge... and then to have it all ripped out from under her so unexpectedly. My heart is broken; I can't imagine how Erika and Matt feel.

That seems to be the general theme lately: my heart is broken. I know that it's not really true... a few of us are getting good news... maybe I'm just bad at focusing on the good, but wow, the terrible news seems to be overwhelming these days. Sometimes it seems like this little corner of the world receives well more than its fair share of sadness... loss on the heels of infertility is just too much some days.

Holly shared a beautiful post on prayer and how she's struggling, learning, trusting, trying something new. I obviously haven't experienced what Holly has been through, but I felt myself nodding along as I read it. "Yes, exactly," I thought multiple times. The analogy she uses is a fish on land, gasping for breath, waiting for the Lord to throw her back in the water, waiting for Him to save her. I can't tell you how many times I've felt like that in the last two and a half years. My prayers have been bold, they've been meek, they've been pathetic, they've been angry, they've been urgent... I feel like lately there are no words to fully express what I need, what I desire, what I'm asking for. It just comes out in a strangled "DO SOMETHING!" as I recognize my helplessness to do anything for my friends.

I know many of you would agree that infertility, at one time or another, has tested your faith with fire. My ongoing prayer throughout all of this has been that my faith would withstand. I can fully understand how infertility could destroy someone's faith. There are so many urgent prayers that get lifted up: "let it be positive," "let it double,", "save my baby"... and yet, time and time again, we see only one pink line, our betas drop, and our babies die. It's easy to wonder, "Where is God in all of that?"

I'm reminded of the post Erika wrote several months ago... I think it's one of my favorites. She discusses an Old Testament story from the book of Joel in which swarms of locusts destroy all of the crops. Why does the Lord even allow the locusts? I have no clue. They seem to be a purposeless waste. An unredeemable pest. Sure, I guess birds enjoy a feast, but is that worth it? Doesn't seem like it. In the midst of the swarm, I am fully sure that I would not be thinking of the amazing, beautiful, life-changing ways that the Lord would use the locusts for good. But Erika writes this:

But what I do feel confident in is this: the character of God. That His character and his heart and his intentions never change. That since the beginning of the world, He has been a God passionately in love with his people, a Creator that is for us. And while we live in the world that He created, we live in a world that is fallen and full of our own free will that doesn't always make the best choices, and it's definitely not always a pretty place. And terrible things happen-- illness, hurts, broken dreams, abandonment, infertility, betrayal. And we wander through years of wondering what happened, why our perfectly-laid plans have been eaten by the swarms of locusts, and we're scared to plant new hopes lest they fall victim to the locusts again.

But I will restore to you the years the locust has eaten.

It's a really beautiful promise. The idea that these years spent wanting are not a waste. The idea that the heartache upon heartache is for a purpose. The idea that the Lord is at work in redeeming what has been stolen. It's beautiful, but it's really hard to cling to promises in the midst of the swarm, in the midst of the heartache, in the midst of the death. How can my faith remain steadfast in the trials and pain?

I'm reminded of a new song, actually a remake of an old hymn. Hillsong's Cornerstone is hauntingly beautiful and the words are filled with meaning. Take these lines for example:

When Darkness seems to hide His face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil

There have been an abundance of high and stormy gales lately. The waves have been crashing, the boats are sinking, the winds are ripping, and night is falling... but check out that last line: My anchor holds within the veil. The veil once hid the presence of God within the Tabernacle. It was the way God chose to dwell among His people... "within the veil" is another way of saying within God's presence. My faith is anchored within the very presence of God, and He is strong enough to make sure that my anchor will always hold.

Faith doesn't give me any additional answers. I have no idea why Holly's baby girl, Brinly, died. Why He didn't heal Caroline's precious son, Jackson Dean. I have no answers as to why Erika was given the opportunity to adopt Ellison if it was going to fall through. The lack of answers is frustrating, but I'm trusting that the Lord is at work. I may not know exactly what to pray for, but I'm just lifting up my friends asking for the Lord to protect their hearts, to bless their families, and to anchor their faith within the veil.