Choosing to Endure
As the doctor looked at my file, he glanced at my enlarged belly and muttered, “Do you realize how dangerous this pregnancy is for you? For the baby? Do you understand what it means that you want to carry this child to full term?”
I stole a glance at my protective husband and saw the look of panic I felt. Our first daughter was stillborn, and there had been three complete knots in her umbilical cord. The unforeseen trauma to her body in my womb wrecked unimaginable trauma on my own body. For far too long, we weren’t sure I would live. Now, two and a half years later, we sat with our high-risk OBGYN team, trying to will ourselves to hope our second baby could thrive despite my apparent physical issues.
“I understand that none of this makes sense. But I told the God of the universe to do with this pregnancy as he wills. I know this baby is dangerously fragile, but we have to give him a chance.” I took a deep breath, silently patted myself on the back for my bravado, and tried to ignore the deep concern on the lead doctor’s face. He accepted my little speech, but his concern sent my confidence for a tailspin.
Jesus? I prayed silently. You know my heart has limits, right? You know I love you but I’m scared? You know I want to cling to you but my hands get sweaty sometimes? I know my breaking point, Jehovah. Please tell me you know my breaking point, too. You break to remold. You don’t shatter to destroy, right? We’re obeying you, Lord. Please don’t make make us regret it.
Looking back on that hard season, I’m reminded why Christian endurance is so much different than the endurance we may hear about in our culture. By God’s mercy, we welcomed our premature son into the world, but our perspective on trusting Jesus within the hard times completely changed. Christian endurance calls us to admit weakness, inability, and even fear, then declare, “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Jesus. What will make his glory known?”
Endurance is uncomfortable. Faith is uncomfortable. But enduring while living in the shadow of Christ’s wings points the world to our creator in unexpected ways. Carry on, friends. We’ll meet at the finish line.