Grieving a Miscarriage

Article by Rev. Ian Macleod, graduate of PRTS and currently pastor of the Free Reformed Congregation in Grand Rapids.

In trying to emphasize the unbreakable love and faithfulness God has to His people, the prophet Isaiah contrasts it to the strongest human affection he can find: “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee” (Isa. 49:15). The contrast is so powerful precisely because of the strength of the mother-child bond. Therefore, what could be more unnatural and painful than that this bond should be intruded upon by death? Words fail to adequately express the aching loss a mother and a father experience in the death of “the son of her womb.” These are difficult questions: How do we learn to grieve a miscarriage? What comfort is there for those who have experienced the pain of miscarriage?

The answer to these questions is found in the Word of God. The loss of miscarriage throws up many hard questions in the minds of grieving parents. Why did this happen? Why now? It seems that most of the time the Lord answers these questions in a way similar to the way Jesus once replied to Peter : “What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter” (John 13:7). Yet the Lord repeatedly reminds His people in Scripture: “My dear child, what I am doing is good, it is for the best, and even when you do not understand why, understand that behind everything I do is infinite wisdom coupled with covenant love.” This is how believing parents are able to say, even from the depth and confusion of miscarriage grief, “In the multitude of my thoughts (anxieties) within me thy comforts delight my soul” (Ps. 94:19).

There is perhaps one question above all others to which the aching heart of the mother and father crave an answer: Is my child in heaven? The Bible says, “Faith cometh by hearing and hearing by the word of God” (Rom. 10:17); “Hear and your soul shall live” (Isa. 55:3). The parent might reason: “But my child never heard the gospel. He or she never had the capacity to hear the word and exercise faith. Is it not just wishful thinking therefore to say my child is in heaven?” What comforts does the Word of God give to parents concerning the salvation of their child?

A first comfort to remember is that our children are conceived in sin. At first glance, this seems entirely paradoxical. How is this any comfort? Well, every comfort in the Word of God is based in truth. It is no comfort to say, “Your child is in heaven because they are innocent; they never committed any sin.” This is not true and so is no real comfort. Remember David; he was a child of the covenant, born in the tribe of Judah, born in the very line from which Christ would come, the man after God’s own heart, the sweet psalmist of Israel, and yet he confesses in Psalm 51:5, “Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.” Before we receive any gospel comfort, we must acknowledge this hard, hard truth: even our unborn children deserve everlasting death.

A second comfort is to remember the sovereignty of God. Because you believe your child is guilty of sin and deserves to die, and yet will never actually hear and respond to the gospel, you might well ask, How then can they be saved? But remember that, because God is sovereign, He works “when, and where, and how He pleases” (WCF 10:3). The great proof text for this is John 3:8: “The wind bloweth where it [wishes], and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” This truth reminds us that while God’s ordinary way of saving sinners is through using the means of grace, yet He is able to save sinners without these means as well. In the case of elect infants therefore, God works regeneration “by the immediate agency of the Holy Spirit on their souls.”1

A third comfort is to remember that salvation is by grace. Salvation does not depend on our effort or performance. No one is even saved because God realized they would believe. It is just as impossible for a sinner to believe God by his own strength and effort in his 40s or 50s as it is for a baby in the womb. But here is the great gospel truth that applies equally to elect infants as to the whole election of grace: “[God] hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began” (2 Tim. 1:9). The principle of salvation by grace alone is one of the most wonderful and undervalued doctrines in the whole Bible, and it is of immense comfort to grieving parents. God does not save us because of our good works; He saves us by the free gift of grace alone in Christ alone.

A fourth comfort to remember is that God is the covenant God. God’s covenant arrangement provides for the children of believers. His covenant promise is that “I will establish my covenant between me and thee and thy seed after thee in their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after thee” (Gen. 17:7). Of course, children of believing parents must be born again (John 3:3, 7). But we have already seen that God is able to work regeneration in the womb. When you take this truth alongside God’s covenantal commitment to be a God to believers and to their children after them, we find the strongest encouragement to believe that when the ordinary means of grace are denied to these children, God will work in an extraordinary and immediate way to save these children.

A fifth comfort is to remember the conception of Jesus Christ. The early church father Irenaeus said that Jesus Christ passed through every stage that He might sanctify sinners of every stage. Jesus needed no regeneration, but He is still the one who comes to sing to His heavenly Father, “I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother’s belly” (Ps. 22:10). No matter the age or the stage of life we are considering, it can still be said of Jesus, “Therefore, in all things He had to be made like his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people” (Heb. 2:17). We can say even of our precious children who die in the womb, “These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God and to the Lamb. And in their mouth was found no guile: for they are without fault before the throne of God” (Rev. 14:4b–5).

When we combine all these comforting biblical truths, we conclude that the children of believers are not without God. In the case of children of believers, it must be true that before death intrudes into this child’s tender life, our faithful covenant God first interposes the precious blood of Jesus Christ, which washes the child’s sins away as far as the east is distant from the west (Ps. 103:12) and clothes him or her with the perfect righteousness of the Holy Child Jesus. Then, in a wave of sanctifying grace that makes the child perfect in holiness, his or her soul immediately passes into glory, and the little body, still united to Christ, rests in the grave until the resurrection (WSC 37). “Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes” (Rev. 7:15–17).

In conclusion, all the doctrines of covenant love and grace combine to give the strongest encouragement for believing parents to believe that their children who die in infancy are saved by grace in Christ. This is a most marvelous exhibition of the redeeming covenant love and grace in Christ that saves sinners before they are conscious of existence. Believing parents who have lost precious children in the womb or in infancy can take great comfort and strong consolation. Indeed, as Vance Havner said, “When you know where something is, you haven’t lost it.”2 “In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul” (Ps. 94:19).

1. John Dick, Lectures on Theology (Philadelphia: Greenough, 1840), 3:265. 2. Quoted in Warren Wiersbe, Wiersbe’s Expository Outlines on the Old Testament (Wheaton, Ill.: Victor Books, 1993); 2 Sam. 12.

A Stunned and Grieving Nation

The Las Vegas shooting has left many of us in utter shock and horror and rightly so. “Pure evil” rightly describes what happened. Personally, I cannot bear watching more than a few minutes of the television reports about it. Even the few images I have seen race around in my mind with seemingly no landing space… The whole thing is just so horrible.

As far as I know, no one I knew personally was impacted. How those who have suffered such personal loss and now grieve over the loss of loved ones are coping just now – I can only imagine… even as I ask God to bring His comfort.

In such times, where can we go to “hang our thoughts” – what can we think on to even begin to wrap our minds around what happened and start to make sense of it all? Is that even possible?

As a pastor, I think this article is a good starting point I can point people to. I hope you find it helpful.

In the meantime, we pray, asking God for His comfort for all the friends and loved ones of the deceased. As a nation, we grieve… we so need God’s help just now.

Hid with Christ in God

Dr. James White speaks on the text of Colossians 3:1-4:

1 If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. 3 For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. 4 When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Letter to a Grieving Parent

Original article by Pastor John Piper found a grieving mother, who recently had given birth to a stillborn son, wrote to me asking for counsel and comfort. The team at Desiring God thought this letter might be helpful to some others, whether other mothers who have lost infants, parents who have lost young children, or perhaps even more broadly.

Dear _____,

This loss and sorrow is all so fresh. I hesitate to tread into the tender place and speak. But since you ask, I pray that God would help me say something helpful.

First, please know that I know I don’t know what it is like to give birth to a lifeless body. Only a small, sad band of mothers know that. I say “lifeless body” because, as you made clear, your son is not lifeless. He simply skipped earth. For now. But in the new heavens and the new earth, he will know the best of earth and all the joys earth can give without any of its sorrows.

I do not know what age — what level of maturity and development — he will have in that day. I don’t know what level of maturity and development I will have. Will the 25-year-old or the 35- or the 45- or the 55-year-old John Piper be the risen one? God knows what is optimal for the spiritual, glorified body. And so it will be for your son. But you will know him. God will see to that. And he you. And he will thank you for giving him life. He will thank you for enduring the loss that he might have the reward sooner.

God’s crucial word on grieving well is 1 Thessalonians 4:13: “We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” Yours is a grieving with hope. Theirs is a grieving without hope. That is the key difference. There is no talk of not grieving. That would be like suggesting to a woman who just lost her arm that she not cry, because it would be put back on in the resurrection. It hurts! That’s why we cry. It hurts.

And amputation is a good analogy. Because unlike a bullet wound, when the amputation heals, the arm is still gone. So the hurt of grief is different from the hurt of other wounds. There is the pain of the severing, and then the relentless pain of the gone-ness. The countless might-have-beens. Those too hurt. Each new remembered one is a new blow on the tender place where the arm was. So grieving is like and unlike other pain.

There is a paradox in the way God is honored through hope-filled grief. One might think that the only way he could be honored would be to cry less or get over the ache more quickly. That might show that your confidence is in the good that God is and the good that he does. Yes. It might. And some people are wired emotionally to experience God that way. I would not join those who say, “O they are just in denial.”

But there is another way God is honored in our grieving. When we taste the loss so deeply because we loved so deeply and treasured God’s gift — and God in his gift — so passionately that the loss cuts the deeper and the longer, and yet in and through the depths and the lengths of sorrow we never let go of God, and feel him never letting go of us — in that longer sorrow he is also greatly honored, because the length of it reveals the magnitude of our sense of loss for which we do not forsake God. At every moment of the lengthening grief, we turn to him not away from him. And therefore the length of it is a way of showing him to be ever-present, enduringly sufficient.

So trust him deeply and let your heart be your guide whether you honor him one way or the other. Everyone is different. Beware of blaming your husband, or he you, for moving into or out of grief at different paces. It is so personal. And what you may find is that the one who seemed to recover more quickly will weep the more deeply in ten years. You just don’t know now, and it is good not to judge.

May God make your grieving a bittersweet experience of communion with Jesus. Matthew tells us that when Jesus heard that John the Baptist had been beheaded, “he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself” (Matthew 14:13). So he knows what it is to go with you there.

We do not have a High Priest who is unable to sympathize. He was tested in every way as we are — including loss.

Grace to you and peace.

Affectionately,

Pastor John

On the loss of a child…

I found this to be profoundly moving – by R C Sproul, Jr.

Life is liturgy. Habits are holy, I have noticed already, for the passing of my precious daughter Shannon has left me without my tempo. Because of her frailty four times each day Shannon had to be fed. Four times a day she had to be given her water and her medications. Those times come each day and I not only ache for her absence, but I grow dizzy, not knowing where to turn. Serving her was our rhythm, the ticking of our grandfather clock.

While all liturgies are holy, some are more holy than others. While all move us, only one takes us to our end, our destination. When we come to the Lord’s Table we are not merely stopping to remember and contemplate the suffering of Jesus for us. We are not just looking backward, but we are moving forward. We come to taste eternity, for at the table we draw near to Him; we feast with Him. It is not just a miracle in our midst, but puts us together right in the midst of The Miracle, God in the Flesh.

My Shannon, though her faith was obvious to all who knew her, was never able to verbally profess that faith. Because she could not speak she could not speak of her love and need for Jesus. Because she could not profess her faith she was not allowed to eat the bread and drink the wine. Though our Lord is delighted to work through means, to draw uncommonly near through common bread and common wine, He is not so constrained. He did not look to Shannon from a distance, and wish there was something He could do. He is mighty to overcome.

Which is why I added to The liturgy my Liturgy. Whenever and wherever we celebrated the Table of our Lord I kept Shannon close to me. Though she could not take the bread of life, I spoke to her the words of life. I would every time whisper two precious truths into her ear, “Shannon, Jesus is here sweetheart. And Jesus loves you.”

Four days ago as I write Shannon walked through the vale, and through the veil. Yesterday we laid her body to rest. Today, however, we will meet again. Today the Holy Spirit will lift me and my children up into the heavenly places, to the true and eternal Mount Zion, to the souls of just men, and moms and little girls made perfect. Today the church militant and the church triumphant will be one, and will feast together. Today He will draw us to Himself, and we will be one.

Today, for the first time, I will hear Shannon’s voice. At that table, at that feast, in the midst of that liturgy. I, profoundly disabled though I am, will be there. Jesus will feed me. And Shannon will whisper in my ear, “Jesus is here Daddy, and Jesus loves you.” Because He does. World without end. Amen.

Dealing with Grief

Justin Taylor writes:

I once asked Matt Chandler about the unhelpful things people said to him in his fight against cancer. He refused to give examples but explained, “I think people can get a little weirded out by pain, suffering, and death. They don’t know what to do so they end up saying things that are hurtful to people who have experienced loss.”

For those of us self-aware of the propensity for foot-in-mouth disease, we sometimes choose simply to ignore those who are hurting so that we don’t make things worse.

Jill Sullivan, who lost a 16-year-old daughter to a highly aggressive form of brain cancer, explains why it can be so hard to return to church after the death of a loved one. She writes:

Our churches are full of people who are hurting, many of whom have lost children or other loved ones. For me personally, returning to church was one of the most difficult things to do after my loss, and I’ve talked to many other bereaved parents who have expressed the same thing.

She offers some reasons why this might be the case:

•Families tend to sit together at church, and when your family is missing someone, their absence is particularly acute in the pew. Looking around and seeing other intact families worshiping beside you can also be very painful.
•The songs we sing in church can bring up very strong emotions. Songs about heaven can conjure up an almost unbearable longing in our hearts, and songs of praise can be difficult to sing when your heart is broken.
•There is an unspoken expectation at church that everyone is filled with the “joy of the Lord.” You know what I mean . . . we put on our best clothes and our Sunday School smiles and give the appearance that all is right in our world. A grieving parent may simply not have the emotional stamina to play that role.

She then asks, “So how do we as the body of Christ reach out to bereaved parents and give comfort without adding to their pain?”

Here are her suggestions for both those who are grieved and for those who can comfort:

•Be patient with them. Grief is a marathon, not a sprint, and it’s important to respect the fact that people need time to heal. The grieving parent may not be ready to resume regular church activities right away, whether that’s teaching Sunday School, singing in the choir, working in the nursery, or greeting at the door.
•Grief comes in waves. Don’t assume that a person is “over it” if you see them smiling or laughing, and don’t assume that a person is “not doing well” if you see them grieving outwardly.
•They may not be interested in small talk. Someone who has lost a child is grappling with deep spiritual issues and may not be interested in shallow conversation. Listen to them if they want to talk, and don’t feel that you need to answer all their questions. Remember how well it went over once Job’s friends started talking!
•Grieving people are vulnerable and often hyper-sensitive, and they may have been hurt by things that well-meaning people have said to them. Some of those things might include:
“I know what you’re going through. My grandmother died last year.”
Something along the lines of “God always picks His best flowers first” or “God must have needed another angel in heaven.”
“She’s in a better place.” (There’s nothing really wrong with that because it’s true…it’s just that the grieving person really wants their loved one here with them!)
“It’s a good thing you have another child.”
•They also may have been hurt by those who have intentionally avoided them or who have said nothing to them at all. So what should we say to a grieving mom or dad?
“I love you, and I’m praying for you.”

She writes, “That’s it? Could it be that simple? Yes, it really is. This statement, maybe accompanied by a warm hug, is all that’s needed to assure a bereaved parent of your care and concern.”

You can read her whole post here.

For those who are grieving, this workshop from Nancy Guthrie (at the TGC Women’s Conference) may prove instructive and edifying.

Jesus wept!

Far too often, we as Christians are influenced by the culture around us and not by the word of God. It is exactly this tendency that is in view when Romans 12:2 exhorts us, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind…”

Do grown men cry? Should they?

Well there was only one perfect expression of manhood who walked this planet. It was not John Wayne, Tom Cruise or some other Hollywood superstar. The most perfect man was Jesus Christ, fully man as well as fully God.

“Jesus wept” (John 11:35) is the shortest verse in the entire Bible – short on words but long in what it reveals. It is all the more remarkable because Jesus knew He was about to raise Lazarus from death. Why cry when within minutes, grief would be banished and He would get glory from such an outstanding miracle? Yet such was His love, such was His compassion both for Lazarus himself and for his family’s grief, that Jesus wept real sincere tears. There was nothing fake about them.

Acts 8:2 tells us that when Stephen was martyred the Church made “loud lamentation” over him. They were not scolded by God for their tears and told to be more spiritual or to act more “grown up”. The Scripture’s complete silence of scorn and ridicule for the Church’s tears speaks volumes to us.

Even when Jesus knew deliverance was right around the corner and was just about to bring it, He cried… He wept. The fact that you cry does not mean you do not trust God or His promises. It means you are truly human and you feel real pain. God has designed our tears to be release valves for the strain, stress and pain we all feel in this world. Your tears are precious to God. So much so, that He even makes the promise to you that He will one day wipe all tears from your eyes. Continue reading