You Will Not Be Consumed
God’s Word is filled with rich promises for His children. How do these “precious and very great promises” inform and direct your grief? How does keeping your eyes fixed on these truths anchor your hope in the Lord? In this series, we write about how God, through the promises in His Word, comforts and strengthens us in our sorrow.
My eyes opened slowly as the nurse touched my arm to wake me. She smiled. “I’m so glad you slept well. I didn’t see the need to wake you,” she tenderly stated. I had slept solid all night, which was such a gift after riding the emotional rollercoaster of the few days prior. Her hand rubbed my arm as I blinked to see the sun peering through the hospital room windows.
Eight hours earlier I had said goodbye to my only son—birthed from my body, still and lifeless, yet perfectly formed. He was small and beautiful, his nose one of my favorite features. I would always remember that cute-as-a-button nose.
As my feet hit the ground to begin the process of dressing and prepping to leave Room 307, a room that would forever be etched in my memory, the heaviness of the last few days clouded over me. It was as if an invisible weight pushed forcefully on my shoulders with each step.
How am I going to do this, Lord?
How am I going to leave this hospital room empty-handed?
How am I going to resume this new life, life without my baby boy?
How long will this grief feel overwhelming? So heavy?
How . . .?
How . . .?
How . . .?
Several hours later, although I was barely listening, the nurse talked me through the discharge paperwork. Next came the ride of shame from Room 307 to the first floor exit where my husband had the car waiting for me. Eyes met mine as I was wheeled through the labor and delivery unit. No car seat. No diaper bag. No baby. People saw—and they knew—and immediately cast their glance aside, I imagine out of sadness and discomfort.
Weeks passed and real-life resumed. Casseroles stopped being delivered. Text messages from family and friends checking-in with me were no longer dinging on my phone. The heaviness would come and go, come and go, some days stronger than others.
I knew, deep down, that while I would never be the same, I had to move toward the Lord in my grief. If I believed His precious promises to be true in the good times, they were certainly true in times of sorrow and pain. I believed this at my core. God is good, all the time, not just when my circumstances align with my desires. God’s promises don’t change just because my circumstances do.
I had to remind my heart of His truth and the promise to keep me safe when I felt like going under. I had to give Him praise for the promise regardless of my feelings, so He could in return give me joy, regardless of my circumstances.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”
Isaiah 43:2
Isaiah 43:2, along with other promises in Scripture, became my go-to response when the heaviness would return. I would feel the weight and then lift up the promise.
Feel the weight and then lift up the promise.
Repeat daily. Repeat hourly. Repeat minute by minute, if needed. This small act of trust not only kept my eyes focused on the Father, but it continued to bring my heart back to truth when my head fed me lies. Lifting up the promise, that I would not be taken under in my grief—that regardless of how dark I felt I would not be consumed—kept hope alive in my heart.
Dear sisters, while you might feel lost and alone and like your heart has been ripped in shreds, God promises in His word that He will not leave you. He will not forsake you. Psalm 91:11-12 gifts us the promise that He will send His angels to protect and walk with you. He does not expect you to walk this road alone. Your circumstances feel like a blazing fire, indeed, but you, sweet sister, will not be consumed. You will not be taken under from this season of suffering. Hand-in-hand with God and His promises, you will make it to the other side.
Can I encourage you to search the Scripture for His promises? If even that feels too overwhelming, will you open up to Isaiah 43:2? Write it down or say it aloud. Repeat the Scriptures often or whenever your version of the heaviness sinks in. This practice will not erase the longing in your heart for your baby, but it will turn your heart toward His, and turning your heart continually toward the Lord’s brings an unstoppable strength in the sorrow. It did for me. I believe it can for you.
Let’s praise Him for His promises, regardless of our feelings. Let’s claim the joy, regardless of our circumstances.
Dear Jesus, thank You for the gift of Your Word. Thank You for Your holy Scripture. Thank You for breathing life into each and every verse, and for the promise that even in the pain, we will not be consumed. We will not be taken down. You are faithful and good, and we can trust You to exchange our sorrow for joy. Thank You for Your precious promises. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.
“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us to His own glory and excellence, by which He has granted to us His precious and very great promises.”
2 Peter 1:3-4a
- Brittnie
Hope Mom to Baby A and Chance Michael
Brittnie lives in Sugar Land, Texas and enjoys writing on her blog and other outlets, baking, lingering coffee dates, and soaking in moments with her family. She is a wife to Brandon and a mom to Clara, Camille, and Hope Mom to Baby A (Clara’s twin) and Chance. Psalm 62:1-2 is her go to verse when she needs quick encouragement. She is author of Desert Song, and you can visit with Brittnie at her personal blog, A Joy Renewed, where she shares her faith and family, and encourages her readers to claim joy despite circumstance.
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