Together Strong - Hope in Miscarriage
Together Strong
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (CSB)
“At least you weren’t that far along.”
When we were losing our first baby a well-intending loved one spoke these words to me. I hung up the phone feeling robbed of my grief and confused because this family member believed in life beginning at conception. After having experienced multiple miscarriages over the years, I have concluded that it’s really easy to hurt someone unintentionally in an effort to provide comfort. We have a primal desire to minimize what hurts the people we love, to make it more manageable for them. But we cannot make the loss of a child manageable. The platitudes we receive and silver linings we hear may cheer for a moment, but God’s comfort transforms for a lifetime.
God does not offer us a band-aid for our wounds, He heals them. Godly comfort anchors us to the Rock of Ages in the storm. His comfort is not a ticket out of suffering; rather, it is the strengthening of our faith right where we are. God does not dismiss our grief and longing, He comforts us “in all our affliction.” We cannot comfort someone from far away; we must come near. Friend, God has never left your side.
Can I tell you the single most impacting truth in my journey with the Lord and miscarriage? He sees me. It’s not a glance, it’s a gaze. It’s the kind of being seen that makes you see the person seeing you. He has an unbreakable gaze on me at all times.
- He sees you duck out of the conference room when a co-worker announces her pregnancy.
- He sees you decline the invite to a friend’s baby shower.
- He sees you making dinner for your family, knowing that there should be one more place to set at the table.
- He sees you during Sunday morning worship with your hands in your pockets, paralyzed by doubt.
- He sees you breaking down in the bathroom because you don’t want your other children to see.
- He sees you waiting.
- He sees your heart breaking.
His gaze is not apathetic. You are not a cruel form of entertainment for Him. God sees you with the fullness of His goodness resting on you. He sees you and, without breaking watch, He sees your child.
God is too kind to comfort us with anything less than Himself. He’s never going to minimize the pain of miscarriage; He’s going to maximize the power of His presence. The comfort for today is in our hope for tomorrow. Your pain today is not the end of your story. We know how the story ends. We know that death is being swallowed up in the victory of the cross. Death does not win.
The English word comfort derives from the Latin word comfortis, which means “together strong.” The comfort that God offers is not for mere consumption; it’s meant to be distributed. Godly comfort strengthens us, so we can strengthen others, not with platitudes and silver linings but with our testimony of His faithfulness. We have been fortified by the experience of God’s presence in our worst-case scenario, so we are quick to show up for others. We are armed with the experience of God’s patience in our doubts, so we aren’t afraid of their questions. We have tasted His goodness and seen His power and we know there’s nothing better.
Reflection:
“We speak best of God and His goodness when we speak from our own experience.” – Matthew Henry
Is God asking you to share your story? Write down the ways that you have experienced His character in your miscarriage.
Prayer:
Lord, my heart is broken. I am longing for this child that I have lost and grieving all of the dreams that I had for them. But I know that you are near. You stay close to the brokenhearted and crushed in spirit and I am feeling that way now. I know that you see me. Will you help me to see you? I need the comfort of your Word and the mercy of your presence. Strengthen my faith today so that I can be a comfort-bringer.



