Forgiving God
In August, I was at a radio station interview preparing to speak about something I battled privately in 2018- miscarriage. I will never forget that experience, I remember it like it was yesterday. It was my 10-week appointment and my son was with us. He was wearing a black and white “Big Brother” t-shirt. As I laid on the exam table watching Superman help our son with his tablet, the sonographer interrupted. “I’m sorry dear,” she said softly, “I don’t see a heartbeat.” Stunned by her words, I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I didn’t understand because I was looking at the image of a baby on the screen. And though it wasn’t audible, we’d seen the rhythm of the heartbeat at the confirmation appointment weeks prior.
When the Doctor came to speak with us, she explained that the pregnancy had only progressed about 6-8 weeks. That made me feel worse. I was ashamed. How could I not know that I had a miscarriage? Where was my intuition? Where was my discernment? I’ve seen other people and things in my dreams, why didn’t God show me this? I’d been walking around for weeks with an expired pregnancy. I felt like a freak. Why hadn’t my body responded accordingly?
Hours after learning about the miscarriage, I had a procedure to remove the pregnancy. After the procedure, I felt fine. However, later that night, I had several allergic reactions to the medication prescribed to help me pass any remains of the pregnancy. Then, I started having what felt like contractions every few minutes. I spent most of the night laying in my mother’s lap in pain until we returned to the doctor’s office the next day. The feeling of being in labor but leaving without a baby to take home was another dagger to my heart.
Since it had been over a year since the miscarriage, I thought I was spiritually mature and emotionally strong enough to discuss it publicly. As I began the interview and described my experience, I admitted that having a miscarriage was the first time I’d ever been truly angry with God. And I wasn’t afraid to let Him know. Until then, I’d always imagined that admitting such a thing was the fastest route to hell or would cause me to immediately burst into flames. But, I didn’t care. My experience was physically traumatic as it was emotionally and mentally. So, I didn’t speak to God for a while. I didn’t have anything to say to Him except, “Why?” I didn’t understand the point of allowing me to become pregnant, allowing Superman and I to get excited, sharing our news with family, close friends and a few coworkers only to be heartbroken in the end. It was a cruel joke and I couldn’t understand what I’d done to deserve such disappointment. If I’d done anything to deserve it, why not punish me alone? Why punish my family as well? Why let us hope? Why let us dream?
As the interview continued, I told the host that after weeks of not speaking to God, I realized I couldn’t continue. I knew too much about Him to ignore Him any longer. Despite the heartbreak and grief I felt, I couldn’t deny His goodness. And though I didn’t want to admit it, He’d been faithful during that time. So, I decided it was time to forgive God.
The moment I said those words on air, I regretted them. Yet, I couldn’t take them back. I’d said it and the people in the studio had heard. After the interview ended, I was still shaken by my audacity. I felt betrayed by my transparent nature to confess such a thing but liberated that I’d expressed my true feelings. Still, how dare I claim the need to forgive God after all He’s done for me? Why would He care how I felt toward Him? He’s God whether I love Him or not. As I continued to scold myself, the Holy Spirit broke through and spoke to me. “I’m big enough to handle your anger,” He reminded. While religion condemned me for being honest, my relationship with Him assured me that He would never leave nor forsake me. The truth is, He knew how I felt before I even said it because He knows my heart. So, I can always tell Him how I feel, without fear, and trust that He’ll stay.
Still, I had to forgive Him to move forward because my life depends on a healthy, progressive relationship with Him. So, how did I do it? Two things: I searched for His heart and I fed on His faithfulness. If He loves me, why would He allow me to experience such pain? If His plans for me are hope and a future, why was the pregnancy unsuccessful? Then I remembered, if I’m in a relationship with a God who knows the number of hairs on my head, certainly He’s aware of what’s happening in my body at the point of conception. And if something went wrong during that process, He would protect me; by any means necessary. That’s His heart. Who knows what occurred at conception but God? Who knows the quality of life me and my child would’ve had if the pregnancy had progressed but God? So, I have to trust that the God of my past, my present and my future, knows what’s best for me. I have to trust that He allowed it for my good. I have to trust that His love for my unborn child is just as great as His love for me so this wasn’t malicious. Instead, it was a good Father loving, protecting and caring for both of His children. That’s His faithfulness. And so, although it hurts and I’m left with the memories, I forgive God for what He allowed and I trust that even this will work for my good.
Similar to a natural relationship, you know you’ve forgiven the other person when a similar situation occurs and your trust is tested again. If you’ve forgiven, you respond differently, if or when it happens again. Well, my forgiveness and trust was put to the test again. In September, the day after my birthday, I found out that I’d miscarried again. I couldn’t believe it, the worst had happened again.
This time, instead of giving my time and energy to anger and resentment, I’m seeking God for healing from the inside out. No, it wasn’t the news I wanted to hear, again. Yet, I trust Him. Like Job, the enemy is counting on me to curse God and die. So, I’m allowing “…the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding…guard [my] heart and mind…” This is not bigger than God’s promise. I’m not committed to what I see or feel, I’m committed to what God said.