Some days are easier than others. Some days I wake up and life is filled with sunshine and my husband is wonderful and my heart is content.
And then comes the day when the teenager is pregnant, the baby is being raised by a grandmother, and the mother who doesn’t want to be bothered aborts.
Those are the days when I pound my fists into my pillow, when I cry out the unending question into the dark red walls of my bedroom, “Why, God? Why does she get babies? Why?”
It’s agony. This screaming monster inside that claws to control my thoughts, my voice, my actions.
Why does the one who misuses your gift, get it? Why does the one who would treasure it, not? What part of that makes sense in your all-knowing mind? I can’t resist pointing. I can’t resist speaking into the shadow that seems to be consuming my heart. “What about her, God?”
And the phrase brings to mind another person who spoke similar words. His name was Peter. Rock. He was often short-tempered and rash. He probably spoke rapid-fire questions and wondered what was wrong with God’s all-knowing mind. Especially when Jesus told him about the death that would come to him. A death where Peter would stretch out his hands and be led where he did not want to go. And afterward, Peter saw another disciple—the one that Jesus loved— and he said, “Wait, what about him?”
And Jesus said, “What’s that to you? You must follow me.”
My heart slows. My questions stop. Jesus answered Peter that day, but he also answered me.
[clickToTweet tweet=”‘But why does SHE get babies?’ #infertility ” quote=”‘But why does SHE get babies?’ I asked.” theme=”style7″]
“What’s that to you? You must follow me,” He answered.
I must get up, take up my cross, and serve Him. I must give glory and honor to God. What is it to me, who receives the gift of children? It is not my call, not my right, not my business.
Peter was the one who died a criminal’s death, though innocent. Whose wife was martyred as well. Peter had to give up and give up and give up. When he pointed and questioned, Jesus answered him straight. What’s that to you? You follow Me.
And I’m the girl who loves God and wants to serve Him. And so far? I cannot bear a child. I’ve been asked to give up and give up and give up. And when I point and question, Jesus answers me straight. What’s that to you? You follow Me.
The answer echoes around me. It closes in and leaves me quiet and humble. It turns out that I’m not God and I don’t get to pick, and low and behold, it’s not even my business.
My business is simple: To follow Him.
And your question, friend? Jesus answers yours as well.
Why does she get a husband who actually works at their marriage? Why does she have a husband who is faithful? Why does she get a husband at all?
Why does she get a job that she loves? Why does she get to stay home? Why does she have extra spending money?
Why does she have extended family that helps her? Why does she have a mother who cares?
Why does she have good health? Why… Why…
“What’s that to you?” He says, “You follow Me.”