Would You Rather?

I'm pretty sure we've all played it. Sitting at a restaurant, waiting on food to come or desperate for entertainment on a long car ride.

We've all answered that infamous question: "Would you rather...?"

Some are simple and easy, "Would you rather go on vacation to the beach or the mountains?"

And some are just downright disgusting. "Would you rather eat 100 hissing cockroaches or chew 25 dirty fingernails?" (Yep, I live with middle school boys...)

Yes, I can think of many times when I was faced with that infamous decision. And yet, it's never really all that hard to answer, right? They're merely a form of entertainment, but no one ever really takes it all that seriously, do they? I mean, let's face it, most likely I'll never be required to eat 100 hissing cockroaches or fingernails and I'll most likely never have to decide between bungee jumping from the Eiffel Tower or the Golden Gate Bridge.

But what about the more real life "Would You Rather?" questions?

What about the ones that live within our hearts...?

No, that's not right, I think it's actually more like "Wouldn't You Rather...?"

Its almost an afterthought, or a subconscious question that weighs down our soul when life goes awry. Like when you don't get into the college you've been working toward. Or when the boy or girl that you like doesn't return your feelings. Maybe that raise at work isn't as much as you were counting on it to be. It's definitely present when the doctor's diagnosis isn't good and there's not much hope of physical recovery.

 It's in those moments that I find myself asking, "God, Wouldn't you rather...? Lord, wouldn't you rather heal him from all of this, make his body well? Or wouldn't you rather me get to go to the college I've worked to get into for all these years? God, wouldn't you rather let that boy (or girl) share my affections so we can be married and live happily ever after... for You? (sometimes throwing in a little religion seems to make the desire seem more justifiable..)

... but the deeper question isn't circumstantial. The deeper question I find myself asking is this:

"Wouldn't you rather do it MY way, God? Wouldn't you rather do it like this, the way that I think is best?"

I can think of many moments in life that I have wrestled with this. Wrestled with why God wouldn't just let me have what I want, especially when those desires are a seemingly good thing. The salvation of a lost friend, a new job, a godly husband, a precious child.

Each time, I find myself asking, "Wouldn't it just be better THIS way God...?"

And each time, I am revealing the depravity of my own heart.

I reveal the lack of trust that I have in God's plans, in His unlimited wisdom and power.

Matthew Henry writes in his book The Quest for Meekness and Quietness the attitude of a heart that is surrendered to God's sovereignty,

     "Let Him do what He will, for He will do what is best; and therefore if God should refer the matter to me, says the meek and quiet soul, being well assured that He knows what is good for me better than I do for myself, I would refer it to Him again."

How wonderful it would be to live this way, to have this attitude every time life throws me a curveball, every time something happens that seems unfair or wrong. It's hard.

Very Hard. 

Even this week, I have been reminded that each time a new difficulty arises, whether its as simple as an unexpected leaky roof or as monumental as the loss of a close family member, I am left with the choice...

"Would you rather trust God? Or live in bitterness that it didn't go your way?"

"Would you rather learn how to love God more and grow in this difficulty? Or be angry that He didn't give you what you wanted?"

Ultimately, as I look back over my brief life, I can say with confidence, that I would rather have His plan. Even through the hardest, messiest, most heart-wrenchingly painful plans, He has been faithful to reveal some of the most beautiful results and has grown my trust and love for Him in some of the deepest ways, as I walk in surrender and faith to Him.

My prayer is that each time we're faced with things we'd rather not have to go through, be it a small inconvenience or a life-changing reality, that we would preach to our hearts the words of David from Psalm 56:

                                 "... This I know, that God is for me. 
                                         In God whose word I praise,
                                      in the Lord, whose word I praise,
                                    in God I trust; I shall not be afraid."

Sharing

One of the greatest blessings that we have received in the wake of the loss of our two precious daughters is sharing with others.

Sharing is such an amazing thing. It goes against our nature, doesn't it? Our nature wants to hoard, to keep our things to ourselves. We do it with stuff, sure. I remember those teenage days when my little sister wanted to borrow everything in my closet, and how I desperately pleaded with my parents to intervene. As a mother, I do it with furniture and carpet that I don't want ruined, desperately pleading for little boys to leave their muddy things outside.

But we are not limited to our desire to hold tightly to our things. This tendency runs deep... and as much as we like to cling to our stuff, we do it even more so with our hurts, with our pain, with our struggles. Often, we try to keep them all to ourselves, seeking to protect our the most precious parts of our hearts from vulnerability, from the possibility of pain or rejection.

But as with all things selfish, hoarding brings bondage. Bondage to opinions, to fear, to insecurity. But sharing, giving your things, your stories, your very self away, actually brings you freedom. I shouldn't be surprised, because it was Jesus himself who told us that we are more blessed if we give.

We have proven the truth of those words as we have experienced the beautiful freedom in sharing with others. There have been two ways in particular that we have experienced this...

The first way is that we have been able to share, or tell others, about our life, about what we have been through and about how good God has been to us in the midst of the painful suffering of this world.

The other way is that we have been able to share in the stories of others as they open their hearts and divulge some of the most painful seasons of their own lives.

Both have been equally as meaningful and have granted me deep, deep encouragement.

A few weeks ago, we were approached to share with the body of believers at Bethany Baptist Church. They had been going through a series on "Real Faith" and we were asked if we would be willing to share about how we had grown and persevered in faith despite the suffering we have experienced.

I can honestly and sincerely speak for both Craig and I when  I say that we felt like very unworthy candidates, with very little meaningful insight to offer. We are simply flawed, sinful followers of Christ, to whom God has mercifully seen fit to grant a special measure of faith, comfort, and peace.

But my desire to testify to His mercy and speak of my sweet girls prevailed, so we agreed to open our hearts and lives to others and share.

Several friends and family members have requested a copy, so I am simply attaching a link where you can go to listen to the service. I am forewarning you- it is pretty long! But I hope that if you do listen, God will generously allow His Truth to pour forth from our story and encourage you that no matter how difficult this life may be, take heart- for He has overcome!

Bethany Baptist- March 20, 2016

 

A Letter to Haddie

My Dear Haddie,

I can hardly believe its been a week. A whole week since you left my body, and left this world for eternity. I miss you so very much little one.

Your daddy and I have been doing alright since you left. Our days have been a mixture of tears and smiles. Our hearts ache with the emptiness that your absence has left, with the future that will never be. In those moments of sadness and longing, we weep, not so unlike our Savior at the death of Lazarus. But, there is joy too. A smile comes to our face as we reflect upon our brief time with you, seeing you at our doctor's visits, feeling your kicks and hiccups, wondering whether you and Loran know each other in Heaven. 

Even though it is hard to keep going without you, time waits for no one. And yet, we are  not alone... so many have been so good to us. Text messages and phone calls, visits and meals have all served to strengthen our hearts as others come alongside to bear our heart ache with us. Even Jesus, as He prepared for His time on the cross, took His beloved disciples with Him to pray. And we too have found comfort in the company, the prayers, the words of kindness and encouragement of the family of Christ. 

And we have each other. Your Daddy is amazing- the best there ever was. His love for God is evident in the way he loves you. But also in how he loves your mommy so deeply, so patiently, so gently. He takes care of me- even doing the laundry! He really is my best friend, listening as I pour out my heart, praying over us, reading me the Psalms. We've even gone for several long walks the last few days, since the weather has been so beautiful, so perfect. I'm so thankful I have him.

Your big brothers have also been quite helpful in keeping our hearts light. They are so silly and full of energy! They are quite athletic and talented at soccer, so we get to watch them play, which we really enjoy!

We've begun several projects to help us work through missing you and remembering you. I am printing off some pictures to make a small album. I have been trying to talk your dad into building a kind of hope chest to put some of your things in...  but it doesn't look promising. He doesn't think he can do it, but I have faith in him! We've also been picking out places in the yard to put the different plants that people have given us as a way to remember you. Though your little life was brief, it has had a deep impact on us, on our faith, on our hearts, and we want to have these small reminders of our love for you and of God's goodness to us in all of life's circumstances.

I won't lie, its been tough being your mommy. Any time you love deeply, the capacity for pain and loss is all the more present. And I have loved you deeply. But I want you to know I count it a blessing- that God chose me to carry you, to love your little life, to treasure each moment of it. Maybe one day, maybe today, you will know how much I do love you and do miss you. How much I look forward to a day when I will join you, and Loran, and all the saints gone before, in worshipping the Lord for all eternity. 

Love,
Mommy

A Broken Prayer

Many of you have requested a copy of the poem that we read at the service we had for Haddie, so I decided to post it to my blog.

 Though it seems woefully insufficient, I want to thank those of you who have prayed for us, encouraged us, served us, made food for us, and just loved us. 

It means so much more than my words could ever convey.

A Broken Prayer

Sitting here, attempting to pray,

Yet so many things get in the way,

If my heart is honest, open and true,

I’m not quite sure I want to meet with You.

A grudge, a root has taken hold,

Towards you my Lord, my God of old.

You, the sovereign of all things,

Who has chosen, upon me, this cup to bring

Who could have mercifully allowed it to pass,

Could’ve granted us the joy of life at last.

Instead again its sorrow we await-

A beautiful life, to so swiftly abate.

And we, left here, to weep, to mourn,

“Why again to us have you given this thorn?”

A weight, a burden beyond heavy to bear,

A grief so deep, none able to share.

My selfish mind envies, covets, compares,

The happy good of others to mine so unfair.

How can we faithfully walk through these days?

When our life is filled with abundant loss and pain?

My heart cries again,"Take this cup away!"

And yet I know that mine isn’t Your way.

My way seeks comfort- a life of happiness and ease,

But You, oh Father, are willing to sacrifice these.

For holiness of heart, a hope that draws me to thee,

For a glory far greater, for a good I’ve yet to see.

Yes, you’ve proven it over, time and again,

That your greatest blessings aren’t of this land.

Your desires for those you call you own,

Isn’t the fullness of an earthly home.

You love your children too much to give

Only happy pleasures and worldly thrills.

Better’s the unshakeable peace and steadfast hope that will last

Beyond a time when this tent has passed.

But these greatest gifts come as we walk through the fire,

For only then can you refine our heart’s true desires.

Though it should be You, God, who is worthy alone,

A love for this world, for its idols is shown.

For this cause you’ve bestowed on the saints come before,

Great suffering and trials to stir a hunger for more,

That they may supremely love you, not people or things of this world,

And fix their eyes, their lives upon your heavenly shore.

So as I struggle, and wrestle, so deeply within,

To love my baby girl until her brief life may end.

Please gently open my soul to accept your plan,

To trust all that comes forth from your faithful hand.

To bring my broken heart to the place where your Son,

Was given for me, so unworthy a one.

To rest in the knowledge that the greatest loss ever felt,

Was the one YOU suffered to redeem the precious people you beheld. 

Desperate

The whole of God's Word is simply an act of mercy toward us. 

The Law of God mercifully points to our sin, allows those who are His children to see their utter depravity, for only then are they able to confess it, to seek redemption from it.

The Prophets of God mercifully give us hope, confidence in a Sovereign God who had planned a redemption from sin for His people- a Savior.

The Gospel of God fulfills each promise of God in the form of Christ, who bears the sin of those whom He has chosen to call His own, that they might have eternal life with Him.

Yes God has been so very gracious, so merciful in the grand plan revealed in His Word.

And many people know this in theory, having been raised with a broad understanding of the Word of God and its design. 

Yet, I find that there are few people, few "Christians" even who are willing to dig deeper, to read, to study, seek answers from the Word of God themselves- apart from someone telling them what it says.

I myself, not so many years ago, was one of those people.

A believer in Christ? Yes.

Hungry to know God, to seek an understanding of who He was in His very Word? No.

I wasn't desperate enough.

But God has mercifully made me desperate.

If I look back at my life, it is easy to see how many times He has made me desperate:

A heartbroken 17 year old girl.

A lonely camp counselor far from home.

A confused adolescent without a career plan for the future.

A recent graduate with no job prospects.

A foreigner trying to fit into a completely unknown culture.

An excited young woman learning, adjusting to the role of wife and stepmother.

A new mother planning a funeral for her unborn child.

Yes, many times in life, God has made me desperate- Desperate for answers, for comfort, for guidance.

Desperate for things only He can give; desperate for Him.

You see, when I think back on each of those times, what I recall most is not the events themselves that stripped me, that broke me. But rather, I remember the way that brokenness left me seeking more, and how God used that brokenness to draw me to Himself.

It was during those times in life that shallow devotionals and a motivating Sunday message weren't enough to keep my faith alive. 

I needed more- I needed God. 

And so as a 17 year old girl, God gave me the greatest gift He could have ever given me: He made me desperate enough to stop trusting in what I had "always known", in church leaders, in religious books, in friends, etc. He gave me a hunger to seek Him myself- in His very own Word.

And He hasn't stopped since.

With each struggle, each new challenge that comes forth from His hand, I find myself in much the same place: hungry for more, hungry to understand, hungry for my deepest questions to be answered.

And that desperation, that hunger, drives me to the same place it has for almost 10 years now: the Bible.

So it was 4 weeks ago, when our second child, a little girl we have decided to name Haddie, was diagnosed Trisomy 18.

Two Babies.

Two Trisomies.

I won't go into all the details, but according to all known medical science and research, the odds of this occurring the first time was 0.2 %. The odds of it occurring again in any future pregnancy, though a little higher, were still only about 0.7 %

By all accounts, those are pretty good odds.

And yet, there Craig and I sat, living out what felt like the worst version of de ja vu one could imagine- hearing once again about all the abnormalities in our sweet baby's body, watching that tiny soul so "incompatible with life" wiggling around the screen, being given another "unfavorable" prognosis.

Again, God had made me desperate.

Again, I went to the only place I knew to go: His Word.

Now, I wish I could say to you that I went to all those beautiful passages of faith and trust and hope, and I did end up there- eventually.

But I didn't start there. 

The first passage I came upon that very evening was from the Psalms. The Psalms are such a beautiful, merciful part of God's Word. They are a perfect blend of the emotions of the human soul grounded in the Truth and Hope of the promises of God. They have many a time brought such comfort to my forlorn soul, have been a hiding place where I can echo the songs of saints from long ago in their heart cries before the Lord.

Psalm 77 was it. It was the one that so perfectly encompassed the questions, the pain in my heart. I could sense how deeply the psalmist hurt, how defeated and hopeless he must have felt as he wrote:

“You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

I consider the days of old,

the years long ago.

I said, ‘Let me remember my song in the night;

let me meditate in my heart.’

Then my spirit made a diligent search:

‘Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all time?

Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion?’”

-Psalm 77: 4-9

For weeks, all of those same questions ran through my mind as my understanding of God through the bible wrestled against years of wrong teaching combined with a natural inclination toward a divine-retribution gospel. 

I wanted to believe that God owes me a comfortable life, that He owes me the same blessings that He has given so many around me: a baby, a child, a life to love and train up in Him. I wanted to claim that I deserved it as much as any of them, wanted to ask how God could do this again when we have loved Him, been faithful to Him through so much. I had so many questions I wanted to put before God.

And like the psalmist, I did.

But the thing is, the Psalms almost never stop there. They never stop in the emotions, in the feelings of the heart. They turn back to the mind, to reason, to remembrance, to the Truth. In the same way, the psalmist in Psalm 77 continues:

“Then I said, “I will appeal to this,

to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds.

Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

You are the God who works wonders;

you have made known your might among the peoples.”

-Psalm 77:11-19

And like the psalmist, I did. I recalled the ways that God has been faithful, I studied His Word and was reminded of how it promises suffering, trials, difficulty in the life of His people to faithfully bring holiness and joy into the life of the believer and glory unto Himself.

So, though God has answered many of those questions in my remembrance, He has chosen not to reveal all of His answers, His purposes, to us. 

He has chosen to leave us in the best place possible: contentedly, peacefully, desperate for Him.
Desperately clinging to Him alone for comfort.
Desperately remembering all the ways that He has been faithful to us before.
Desperately trusting in Him for strength and grace to live out the life He has planned. 
And in our desperation He is working in us, to grow us, to make us more like Him. 
Please pray with us and for us that God would be glorified in our joys and our struggles, and for sweet little Haddie, that her life, no matter the duration, will be filled with love. 
Here is a picture of our sweet baby girl:

Sorrow Becoming Joy

Recently, Craig and I set out to read the Gospels a little differently than we had before. Craig suggested we try reading them more quickly, like you would a novel, hoping to see the story somewhat differently by viewing it as a whole. He was quite committed and finished them all quite quickly...

Me, not so much. In fact, I am finally finishing up John... a couple weeks late.

Now, I've read the book of John, studied it even, before. But the beauty of the Bible is how it can be the same text and yet strike my heart so differently at times depending on the season that I am in. Verses in a passage that I've quickly skimmed by before can stand out like a sore thumb later, as my experiences in life change and grow. Such was the case recently as I read in the book of John.

I was towards the end, in chapter 16. The picture here is a quite beautiful, intimate, yet somber, one. Jesus and His disciples are seated here, sharing their last evening together. He has washed their feet, served them the Passover supper. He is also fully aware of what is about to come. And so, He begins to teach, to pour out Truth to these beloved men He has walked with, eaten with, shared life with for the past three years.

The same men He is about to leave.

He gives them words of instruction, how to persevere through the trials they will soon face. He gives them words of encouragement, of hope at the coming of the Holy Spirit. He gives them words of assurance, that they can be confident as they abide in Him, the True Vine. His words are laced with love, peace, joy, and hope. But they are also laced with sadness, with sorrow.

And then He comes to share with them some of the hardest words, "A little while, and you will no longer see me..."

Huh? Come Again?

But He doesn't stop there: "... and again a little while, and you will see me."

They still didn't get it; the disciples were still confused.

So he goes further:

"Truly, truly I say to you, that you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; you will grieve, BUT your grief will be turned to joy."

Kind of ambiguous. He tells them that He is going to leave them, that they are going to be heartbroken, but that they will see him again, and their heartbreak become joyful. No specifics.

He does, however, offer a helpful analogy, just in case some of them still don't understand, don't grasp his message of hope:

"Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world."

Now, reading that a year ago, it meant very little to me. But now, having given birth to our beautiful baby Loran, I can completely understand. We gave birth naturally, without medicine, at the recommendation of our doctor in order to give us the best chance of meeting her. And I can tell you: the real deal hurts. Its excruciatingly painful. But the joy that you feel the moment you see your child in your arms, well, its makes it all pass away.

There is no comparison; the pain and suffering and the joy that comes are NOT equal.

The joy wins by a landslide.

And so it would be for the disciples. They would hurt, be devastated, be utterly broken as they watched their Savior, their Lord, their Friend, die a brutal, undeserved death.

BUT it doesn't end there.

Just as He promised, the joy came- He rose again! And what was a sorrowful event, became a joyful one, as they began to understand the necessity, the greater good that had come as a result.

So it has been with us. God has begun turning our sorrow into joy.

Though our story is no comparison to the triumph of the Cross, it has been beautiful to see how God's ability to bring light from darkness, beauty from ashes, good from evil, has proven true in our own lives.

The first few days and even first few months following Loran's passing were complete and utter sadness. We had peace, sure, but it hurt. Our hearts were devastated, crushed by the weight of deep, deep sorrow.

But slowly, over time God has transformed bits of that sorrow into joy.

Joy through Remembering. Remembering her moving around in the womb, remembering the sight of her face for the first time, holding her little hand. Remembering a hospital room filled with love and joy. Remembering the body of Christ pouring over us love and prayers. Remembering a peace that passed all understanding. But Joy also through Stories. Stories of how her life has impacted others. Stories of how others remember her. Stories of how her life helped others grow in their faith, in their love for the Lord. Stories of how others have been moved to give and do on her behalf. And our own Stories. Stories of how our own little family has been drawn closer, bonded so much deeper, become so much more open and loving, as we have walked through this together.

And so we have Joy. Not Happiness, not gladness that our daughter is gone. I miss her everyday.

But joy. Joy that God had bigger plans at work.

And we believe that one day, our sorrow will more fully become Joy, as we meet our Savior, and understand. And ALL of the sorrows of this Earthly life will pass away as we bow down before Him and Worship... maybe even alongside our sweet girl.

My deep, deep prayer is that if you are reading this, and you are experiencing any type of earthly sorrow that is beyond your control, that you would trust Him enough to ask Him to help you see how your sorrow can be made into joy as you glorify Him! Seek Him in His Word, Dwell on the Truth that is found there! Even as I write this, I am praying that God would continue to use our story to help bring His hope,  His Joy into your life.

And now, I would like to share another way that our family has been granted joy...

We are expecting a little brother or sister for Lincoln, Truit, and Loran in June of 2016!

Thank you, all of you, who have prayed and continue to pray for us. We are so blessed. 

God is SO Good.

Praying that you are reminded of the Joy of the Lord this Holiday Season!

Love,

The Hardemans