My husband and I live in a small English basement in Washington D.C. Our 700 square feet of space holds lots of laughter, tears, home cooked meals, deep conversations, light hearted teasing, and a front row seat to one another’s lives as we both grow closer together and closer to the Lord. Recently, it’s held something else. The cries of a newborn baby upstairs.
Our landlords recently welcome home a baby boy. The little one was born just a few weeks after my book Longing for Motherhood
If I’ve learned anything in my years of barrenness, it’s that I can use these moments to press into my Father. Years ago, I would have been frustrated that my home wasn’t the sanctuary I longed for – that my home was filled with noises that reminded me of what I don’t have – a baby.
Inside my Bible, I have a sticky note with a Spurgeon quote scribbled on the yellow paper. “I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.” In my suffering, I’m learning that it’s okay to grieve my unfulfilled desires, but the safest place to grieve them is in the arms of the Rock of Ages.
The baby that cries upstairs is an invitation to press into God in my pain
The baby that cries upstairs is an invitation to pour my heart out in prayer.
The baby that cries upstairs is teaching me how to rejoice with those that rejoice, while taking the unfulfilled desires to my Father.
The baby that cries upstairs is a reminder that the world isn’t as it should be.
The baby that cries upstairs causes my heart to long for the day when there will be no more pain or sorrow.
We all have sorrows that stain our heart. Right before his death, Jesus guaranteed that we’d experience trials and tribulation. (John 16:33) In the very next breath, He promised his presence. He reminded us that He had overcome the world, and He’ll never leave His children. In the moments of our lives when the waves threaten to undo us, use them as an opportunity experientially know the love of God.
The good news is that we’re never abandoned in our pain. Christ bore the abandonment we deserved on the cross. Because of His death and resurrection, we’ll never be alone, even in our darkest hour.
“In the sorrows of affliction, tell your secrets to the Friend who sticks closer than a brother. Trust all your concerns to Him who can never be taken from you, who will never leave you, and who will never let you leave Him. “I am with you always” is enough for my soul to live upon no matter who forsakes me.” –Charles Spurgeon
I’m learning to long for my Deliverer more than I long for deliverance. Each cry pushes me into the presence of God, and creates an invitation for me to commune with God. Sometimes, it’s with cries of my own, other times it’s requests that the Lord shows me more of Himself in these moments. May we press into God in our pain. He’ll always be there for us!
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