As my tip toes touch the cold hardwood floors beneath me, I gently push myself back and forth with arms empty in this rocking chair. The songs of this barren woman fill the space between these four walls. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Thanksgiving prayers leave my lungs as praise echoes through the room. Promises of God begin to dance their way to my tongue as they give shape to the words that escape my soul. My unforgiving womb, so very bitter as it groans with groans too deep for words, aches to be filled with life. My whole being declares the “Abba” cry… In this rocking chair there is just me, my barren songs, my empty arms, and the promises of the Father surrounding me. Tonight, I succumb to the grief of the childless woman. However, the One who bore my grief, my sorrows, and my sin, holds me fast to Himself. The guilt I feel as Satan’s lies had bound my mind and heart to the lie that this empty womb is my fault, begins to melt with the mascara that was generously applied this morning. I assume that is all guilt is: self-applied darkness in the morning, worn throughout the day, but easily melts away with the healing flow of steady tears. Even if I were a hundred times worse than I am, my sins would be no match for His mercy. Guilt is no match for His mercy. For now, I feel deep sorrow. Yet, it will not compare to the eternal weight of glory this barrenness is producing in me. And if I make it through this night of tears and sorrow, it will only be because of Christ. My King, who bears me up.
The lies cease. The battle won.