“Is Zion ever going to come back home?”
These innocent words, uttered by my young son, brought a cascade of dreams into sharp focus. What might it have been like to witness the sparkle in your eyes, or hear the music of your laughter? I imagined you, exuberantly singing hymns, your voice carrying the family signature, fooling others into believing you were one of your older siblings. I saw your little legs pedaling our timeworn red tricycle down the block, disappearing out of sight just as quickly.
This heartfelt question of my son breathed life back into dreams that seemed long lost. Our grief was as real as it could get, yet all we were left with was the empty space where we should have been. Yet, through this pain of miscarriage, we discovered something – or rather, someone. We were drawn closer to our greatest comfort, Jesus, who beckoned us to approach Him, not just as a beacon of hope at the end of a dark tunnel, but as an ever-glowing light amid our deepest despair.
Step Closer to Your Freedom
The author of Hebrews encourages us to, “Let us… with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). When we’re rocked by the loss of miscarriage, we can be left feeling needy, desperate, and confused about the path ahead. Yet, God invites us to find solace at His throne: extending freedom to approach, mercy to heal, and grace to fortify us for the journey forward.
- Draw closer in freedom In Christ, we are free to approach God as we truly are, in our rawest emotions. Whether we are silent or vocal, tearful or numb, enraged or stilled, He invites us to bring our full humanity to His throne, including the spectrum of our miscarriage lamentations. As Matthew Henry beautifully puts it, we can have “a humble freedom and boldness, with a liberty of spirit and a liberty of speech”.
- Draw closer to mercy In the aftermath of a miscarriage, it can be hard to separate sorrow from sin. Lingering guilt, self-blame, and other negative emotions may haunt us. Yet, God’s throne is a place of mercy, where we can receive forgiveness and solace, irrespective of our state of mind.
- Draw closer to discovering grace There were moments, sitting on the edge of our bed, when I could only feel His embrace, and all I could do was sing. The most profound grace I discovered in these times of need was the growing realization of the magnificent sufficiency of Christ in sorrow.
The Power of Grieving Together
Miscarriage is often a silent sorrow, profoundly personal and deeply sad. It remains unspoken, even though many have gone through it and others are ready to stand with you in your grief. During such times, we can find comfort in the grace that arrives through human connection – in shared sadness, embraces, prayers, meals, and flowers.
This grace also gives us the strength to journey with others through their grief. Our eldest daughter penned a touching story about the day when Jesus brings our children to heaven, where they meet Zion and are given the chance to remain with him forever.
Everyone grieves differently, and it’s okay to grieve as you need to. By drawing near to the Lord, we can grow in our understanding of how to grieve with hope. Our grief can be transformed into worship when we understand our need isn’t for time to stop but for the King to march us onward.
“No, my dear, Zion isn’t coming back home. But one day, we’ll go home to him.”
As I embraced my son, my heart heavy with a fresh wave of grief, I realized the power of drawing near to God. Whether we have few words or many, we are recipients of His mercy and grace, emboldened to trust our King and walk together, with others both large and small, toward our eternal home.
Miscarriage isn’t the end. As Elisabeth Elliot once said, “Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God’s story never ends with ashes.” Whether your journey after a miscarriage brings a new child into your arms or an era of quiet strength, the loved ones we’ve had to let go for a while will be found once more. One day, we will behold the babies we never held and gaze upon the Lord who watched over them all.