Tag Archives: Job 13

Best of 2023 #4: A Spiritual Stake in the Ground

A Spiritual Stake in the Ground (CaD Job 13) Wayfarer

“Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him”
Job 13:15 (NIV)

In my head and heart are a number of things I would like to write about in greater length than a blog post. Perhaps a book, an essay, or an article. I have several thoughts that have long begged for me to unpack them in a larger way. Among them is a man-to-man perspective on walking with your wife on the path of infertility.

I came to the infertility journey in the middle-innings of life. We are a blended family. Our daughters are from my first marriage. Wendy had never been married, and our desire was to have children together. We tried for years and did everything medical science knows how to do in order to bring a child into this world together.

I observed and learned many things during this stretch of our journey together. To this point in life, it is the toughest stretch of the journey I have experienced. Infertility is particularly strange because it is so intensely personal. No one talks about it, even close friends, because they don’t know what to say. Because it is so intensely personal, you aren’t sure what to say, nor are you even sure you want to do so.

Since we have spoken about it publicly, we will occasionally learn of a younger couple dealing with it. In a few cases, we will make ourselves available to talk to them. That pretty much never happens. When you’re in the depths of trying to conceive, you don’t want to talk to the couple who were never successful. You don’t want to entertain such a notion. If you talk to anyone, you’d pick one of the couples that were finally successful. But even then, you feel a little resentful of all the couples who finally conceived when you’ve got a years-long streak of failure piling up. It’s hard.

Like Job, infertility leads to the heart of the “why” question with God. Why is it that the homeless crack addict conceives when she turns a trick for drugs, but we don’t? Why does that thirteen year old girl conceive when she has sex for the first time, but we don’t? Why is it that seemingly everyone has a cheery “when we finally gave up and talked adoption we got pregnant that month” story, when every month brings us closer to the reality that for some reason God’s answer to us is a perpetual “No” ? Are you punishing us for our sins? What wrong have we committed that we should suffer this fate?

For men, who aren’t the best at navigating common emotions in the shallow end of the relationship pool, it’s particularly difficult to keep one’s head above water and not drown in the deep end of emotions where infertility naturally leads.

In today’s chapter, Job continues his discourse with this three friends, whom he angrily turns on. He bemoans their combined arguments of “suffering is the consequence of sin, so you must have done something sinful to deserve this.” And then, in the depths of his suffering and despair Job says something amazing in it’s faith and hope:

“Though [God] slay me, yet will I hope in him;
    I will surely defend my ways to his face.
Indeed, this will turn out for my deliverance,
    for no godless person would dare come before him!
Listen carefully to what I say;
    let my words ring in your ears.
Now that I have prepared my case,
    I know I will be vindicated.
Can anyone bring charges against me?
    If so, I will be silent and die.”

While Job writhes in the agony of his physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering; While he searches the depths of the eternal mystery for a simple “Why” from a seemingly silent God, he places a spiritual stake in the ground. He will hope. He will believe that he will be delivered. He will trust that he will be vindicated.

“Though He slay me, yet will I hope in him,” are words that Wendy is fond of quoting. She understands them at depth that would be lost on many.

In the quiet this morning, I am thankful to be on the other side of the infertility journey. I also grieve, even in this moment as I type these words, the loss that comes with Wendy and I never having a child together. I am also grateful for the good things that have flourished in our lives on the other side of the journey. Wendy and I have, together, placed our stakes in the ground:

Though He slay me, yet will I hope in him.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

A Spiritual Stake in the Ground

A Spiritual Stake in the Ground (CaD Job 13) Wayfarer

“Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him”
Job 13:15 (NIV)

In my head and heart are a number of things I would like to write about in greater length than a blog post. Perhaps a book, an essay, or an article. I have several thoughts that have long begged for me to unpack them in a larger way. Among them is a man-to-man perspective on walking with your wife on the path of infertility.

I came to the infertility journey in the middle-innings of life. We are a blended family. Our daughters are from my first marriage. Wendy had never been married, and our desire was to have children together. We tried for years and did everything medical science knows how to do in order to bring a child into this world together.

I observed and learned many things during this stretch of our journey together. To this point in life, it is the toughest stretch of the journey I have experienced. Infertility is particularly strange because it is so intensely personal. No one talks about it, even close friends, because they don’t know what to say. Because it is so intensely personal, you aren’t sure what to say, nor are you even sure you want to do so.

Since we have spoken about it publicly, we will occasionally learn of a younger couple dealing with it. In a few cases, we will make ourselves available to talk to them. That pretty much never happens. When you’re in the depths of trying to conceive, you don’t want to talk to the couple who were never successful. You don’t want to entertain such a notion. If you talk to anyone, you’d pick one of the couples that were finally successful. But even then, you feel a little resentful of all the couples who finally conceived when you’ve got a years-long streak of failure piling up. It’s hard.

Like Job, infertility leads to the heart of the “why” question with God. Why is it that the homeless crack addict conceives when she turns a trick for drugs, but we don’t? Why does that thirteen year old girl conceive when she has sex for the first time, but we don’t? Why is it that seemingly everyone has a cheery “when we finally gave up and talked adoption we got pregnant that month” story, when every month brings us closer to the reality that for some reason God’s answer to us is a perpetual “No” ? Are you punishing us for our sins? What wrong have we committed that we should suffer this fate?

For men, who aren’t the best at navigating common emotions in the shallow end of the relationship pool, it’s particularly difficult to keep one’s head above water and not drown in the deep end of emotions where infertility naturally leads.

In today’s chapter, Job continues his discourse with this three friends, whom he angrily turns on. He bemoans their combined arguments of “suffering is the consequence of sin, so you must have done something sinful to deserve this.” And then, in the depths of his suffering and despair Job says something amazing in it’s faith and hope:

“Though [God] slay me, yet will I hope in him;
    I will surely defend my ways to his face.
Indeed, this will turn out for my deliverance,
    for no godless person would dare come before him!
Listen carefully to what I say;
    let my words ring in your ears.
Now that I have prepared my case,
    I know I will be vindicated.
Can anyone bring charges against me?
    If so, I will be silent and die.”

While Job writhes in the agony of his physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering; While he searches the depths of the eternal mystery for a simple “Why” from a seemingly silent God, he places a spiritual stake in the ground. He will hope. He will believe that he will be delivered. He will trust that he will be vindicated.

“Though He slay me, yet will I hope in him,” are words that Wendy is fond of quoting. She understands them at depth that would be lost on many.

In the quiet this morning, I am thankful to be on the other side of the infertility journey. I also grieve, even in this moment as I type these words, the loss that comes with Wendy and I never having a child together. I am also grateful for the good things that have flourished in our lives on the other side of the journey. Wendy and I have, together, placed our stakes in the ground:

Though He slay me, yet will I hope in him.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

The Crossroad of God’s Silence

source: shibanov via Flickr
source: shibanov via Flickr

Then summon me and I will answer,
    or let me speak, and you reply to me.
Job 13:22 (NIV)

This past Saturday night Wendy and I went to see a production of Rabbit Hole at Central College here in town. The play is an intimate look at a married couple struggling with the accidental death of their young son. It is a wonderfully written script, though certainly not an easy one to act or a comfortable one to watch. It is a continuation of the questions with which Job and his friends are grappling.

After the show Wendy and I spent some time unpacking our thoughts and feelings about the play. To be honest, it stirred some of the same deep questions and emotions Wendy and I struggle with in our journey of infertility. Like Job, like Rabbit Hole, our own experiences are simply a different facet of the same stone.

In this morning’s chapter, Job alludes to one thing Wendy and I have found incredibly difficult in our own journey, and which we saw allusion to on stage the other night. When you are walking through senseless suffering, you want an explanation from God.

Please God, simply reply to my questions. Sit down and explain to me ‘why.’ If I’ve done something to deserve this, I want to know what it is. If there is a reason for me to suffer this, then by all means lay it out for me so I can process it and move on.”

But, God remains silent.

I have found this intersection of my questions and God’s silence to be a crossroad. It is a crossroad which beckons me to choose. I can choose out, raise my middle finger to heaven, and walk away from God. I can choose in and press forward being assured of what I hope for based on evidence I do not yet see. It is a crossroad at which most all of us will stand at some point in our life journey. Despite the throng of people who have stood there before, those standing on either side, and those waiting their turn behind us, we each stand at the crossroad oblivious of the crowd. When we stand at this crossroad, we feel utterly alone.

I have equally found that this crossroad is not a one-and-done affair. No matter what I choose in the moment today, I find myself standing there again another day. When I choose out at the crossroad yesterday, then God leads me back to it. I have discovered again and again that God is big on second chances. If I chose in yesterday, then I will go to a play tonight that leads me back to the crossroad mulling over the same questions, feeling the same silence, faced with the same choice once again.

Today, I’m praying for all who find ourselves standing at the crossroad hearing God’s deafening silence. Despite our feelings to the contrary, we are not alone. We’re standing here together.

I’m choosing in.
Again.

You’re welcome to join me.