It was a calm, crisp, and balmy Sunday morning in early January 2020, when I honed in on my husband’s words as they were delivered from the pulpit. I’m always attentive to his preaching, but this time my breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened a bit.
I glanced at my oldest son who gave me a knowing look and then back to my husband, Ben. I noticed that his sermon had turned from the direction of the congregation (though he always includes himself in his preaching) and it was as if he was preaching directly to himself…and me. No one else in the room mattered at that point.
Ben had started a sermon on the Israelites and on that particular Sunday he was preaching about their unwillingness to trust God to lead them through the process to conquer the land. That was the part that caught both of our attention. He later told me that I was right in my perception and that he was, indeed, preaching to himself.
Let me backup a bit. For a while, Ben and I had both felt God tugging at us individually that it was time to step down from the ministry where we were serving but we just weren’t sure. God had faithfully blessed, the church was at a very healthy point, our provisions were excellent and stepping down just didn’t make sense. Yet, God was calling us both to end our current ministry. We had talked about it periodically, pushing the thought aside with the question, “But what will we do? We do, after all, have seven (hungry) kids and a house payment.” We couldn’t just walk away. Or could we?
I knew at the moment my husband said the words, “The Israelites’ faith in God wasn’t big enough,” that we were about to begin one of the biggest faith walks of our entire life.
Needless to say we didn’t get much sleep that evening as we mulled over the thoughts and feelings we were both experiencing. Could God really be calling us to do the unimaginable? Was He asking us to resign? Were we about to walk away from monetary provisions and trust God to glorify Himself through us? (Spoiler alert: the answer is yes! But just hang on for a minute. I’ll get there!)
The very next morning I had an OB appointment for baby number eight. After our third miscarriage about nine months prior, our family was excited to welcome another bundle of joy into our home. I had all the tell-tale signs of morning sickness and things were progressing nicely! I had even thought about getting out my maternity clothes as names for this baby swirled around my head. Ben and I hopped in the car and drove the 45 minute drive along Lake Michigan to my doctor’s appointment, chattering about what was welling up in our hearts and the excitement and fear that we both admittedly had. What was God about to do with us?
It didn’t take long for us to find out that our lives were definitely about to change. Minutes later, we heard the classic, “I can’t quite find a heartbeat, but don’t worry, the baby is probably just in a funny position.” My heart sank. I was almost 14 weeks pregnant and both the doctor and I knew that it shouldn’t be hard to find. I looked at Ben as I lay on the table and pleaded with him silently to make it not be true. I knew there was nothing he could do, but doesn’t it seem like your husband can fix anything?
An emergency ultrasound confirmed that my doctor’s suspicions were right and the baby was indeed gone. I remember looking at Ben on our way out of the doctor’s office and feeling despair, confusion, and complete sorrow. What was God doing with us? What did He want from us?
To be continued next week…
