Wrestle and Embrace

 Habakkuk. Did you know his name means "the embracer" or "the wrestler"? How fitting a name as I read through this book wrestling with the One I embrace and whom embraces me. About a month after the death of Abigail I decided to read, pray, and journal through each verse of Habakkuk. Chapter one verse one only held his name, but that in itself assured me it was okay to wrestle with what the Lord has allowed in our life. It's okay to wrestle and "beat the chest" of the one whom I embrace and holds me still. 

Today’s musings and prayers were from chapter 1. 

 

"How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, 'violence!' but you do not save? Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds." (verses 2-3) 

God didn't save my baby the way I wanted Him to. I've often wondered why He asked this of us. Why must we suffer the gross "injustice" of my three year old dying? In the past I have asked the Lord to enable me to suffer well. I don't think I meant or expected this degree of suffering. I only wanted Him to allow the portion I thought appropriate. Appropriate enough to be titled suffering and maybe cause a little discomfort, yet not so severe as to render me breathless with heartache.  

"I am raising up the Babylonians, that ruthless and impetuous people, who sweep across the whole earth to seize dwelling places not their own. They are a feared and dreaded people; they are a law to themselves and promote their own honor. Their horses are swifter than leopards, fiercer than wolves at dusk. Their cavalry gallops headlong; their horsemen come from afar. They fly like a vulture swooping to devour, they all come bent on violence." (verses 6-8)

Death rose up and ruthlessly swept across and ravaged our family claiming a child that was not its own. Death claimed a child that really was not my own either if I am completely honest, at least not fully or solely mine. My mommy flesh balks even at that. I don't want to acknowledge she was kept even more closely by another. Yet at the same time I couldn't survive this without the knowledge that she was, she is still. Death of my child has been the most feared and dreaded thing in my life. It was swift, fierce, and swooping to devour. It backed me into a corner like a starving wolf bearing teeth so close to my faith I smell its putrid breath. The anguish and sorrow rippling from her death threatens still to devour. 

"Their hordes advance like a desert wind and gather prisoners like sand. They deride kings and scoff at rulers. They laugh at all fortified cities; they build earthen ramps and capture them. Then they sweep past like the wind and go on-guilty men, whose own strength is their god." (verses 9-11) 

Death has seemingly mocked me, laughing at all the ways I've tried to protect my children. It scoffed at my efforts and my last moments with her. It swept past in a violent wind, gone on. Yet I'm left here in the carnage holding mementos and memories instead of my baby girl. 

"O Lord, are you not from everlasting? My God, my Holy One, will not die. O Lord, you have appointed them to execute judgement; O Rock, you have ordained them to punish. Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrong. Why then do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves? You have made men like fish in the sea, like sea creatures that have no ruler. The wicked foe pulls all of them up with hooks, he catches them in his net, he gathers them up in his dragnet; and so he rejoices and is glad. Therefore he sacrifices to his net and burns incense to his dragnet, for by his net he lives in luxury and enjoys the choices food. Is he to keep on emptying his net, destroying nations without mercy?" (verses 12-17)

Death swallows us all; catches us all in its net. But when you watch your child die? The enemy’s hook has pierced my flesh, my heart. And he mocks. He laughs thinking he has the last word. I know better, but that doesn’t keep my sorrowful heart from crying, “why, God?”. Suffering in itself does not surprise me. It’s biblical. But like Habakkuk, I wrestle with the gross pain and injustice of it all.  I’ve lived as a naive virgin to suffering and in one moment all innocence was stripped away. I'm hurt God would allow this suffering: ours and any on her part. As Abigail's mommy I struggle so deeply with thoughts of any suffering she endured. The thought of her suffering is more than I can bear. The Lord is helping me reframe those last moments for healing purposes, but I'd be lying if I said the pain and trauma were gone. I pray ALL THE TIME the blood of Jesus will wash away all trauma and deep darkness those thoughts bring. I pray for help taking captive all thoughts- including these most terrible ones. I pray for eternal perspective to soften the sharp pain. If you have a friend suffering the loss of a child I invite you to pray over that for them. I never would have known to pray this over the grieving mommies and daddies who have since entered my life had it not been for our experience.  

We talk about God's sovereignty, yet I don't know I fully appreciate nor understand it. That's ok. I can still trust it. My mind is finite. I accept the fact there are some things I am not able (nor eager) to grasp in this life. In His sovereignty He allowed my daughter to die. That's a fact. 

Could He have stopped it? Absolutely. Did He? Absolutely not. 

Is He still good, still sovereign? Absolutely. Do I understand why things happened the way they did? Absolutely not. Am I angry that Death stole something so precious from me? Absolutely.  

Can He use it? Absolutely. Will any purpose I see in this life make it feel "worth it" to me? I can't say that it will. At least not on this side of Heaven. And please, I gently and humbly beg you not to tell a parent who has buried their baby to “consider it pure joy”. Just don’t, please. (That’s an entirely separate subject for a future blog.) I can tell you I wish so very much He would have used some other way- ANYTHING else- to accomplish whatever purposes this will accomplish.  Yet, I trust He can and will use it. My Abigail's three years, two months, and sixteen days hold more purpose than I can fully comprehend. I will also tell you I pray for small glimpses into how He is using her life for His eternal glory simply to encourage my broken heart. He doesn't have to show me those glimpses, this I know. But I still ask for them. I'm human, and He knows it. After all, He made me this way. I am confident He loves and carries both myself and my sweet Abigail.  One day, I won't struggle with this. One day there won't even be a question of whether or not any of this was worth it all. I long for that day. Until then I'm here praying through Habakkuk.

"I Surrender All" is a song of its own and a line in "The Cause of Christ." I was listening to this yesterday and asked a friend "Do I?  Will I surrender my child, my children? Like REALLY surrender them?”

 I'll continue to wrestle with the One who embraces me, I'm sure. But I'll seek to wrestle with an open fist, surrendering as much as I fully can. And where I can't, He meets me there. He's met me here. He holds me even in this and I trust Him to carry me into all the tomorrows.