Making Sense of Tragedy

Yesterday, was the worst day of my life. It wasn't "almost the worst day" or "one of the worst days." It was the worst.

Most adoptions don't carry the risk that our adoption did. Most adoptions are open and shut before leaving the hospital. And while our adoption carried more risk, nothing could prepare us for handing over our baby.

The pain and the exhaustion and the sickness came in waves today. Memories of yesterday haunted us, and missing Nadia is almost more than we can bear. But, in all of this--yes, even this--we rejoice.

Sitting in church this morning, I was spent. I knew I needed to be at church and even--in some small way--wanted to be there, but there was a whole other part of me that wanted to curl up into bed and to spend the day alone. But, our obedience this morning was met with great reward.

This little gem from the book of Philippians: "Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and God’s provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted..."

A lot of time is spent in the new testament talking about "rejoicing" amidst trouble or heartache or persecution. And, to be honest, it hasn't always made sense to me. I could reserve it for the spiritually elite, the Paul the Apostles of the world. And there was part of me that didn't understand because I didn't feel like I had truly suffered. And, in light of many in the world, I still haven't, but I get this little excerpt from Philippians in a whole new way.

You see, there is plenty of space in the Bible that talks about how suffering produces Christ-like character. And there are plenty of places in society that laud suffering for a similar result: the classic "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger" argument. But, I am here to say that those reasons aren't enough for me in light of yesterday. I'm not saying that they aren't great by-products to suffering for me, but they weren't the sole purpose in yesterday.

Yesterday, was about the fact that God--in His amazing compassion--met us in the most dire of circumstances. It was about how God knows all about what giving up a child feels like. And that truth alone helps my suffering rise out of the ashes and gives it purpose.

Because if that verse in Philippians ended with the part about my deliverance, I still would have gathered solace. But, thankfully it doesn't end there. It goes on to tell me that with courage and boldness, Christ can be exalted, lifted high, and made known. And that helps me--even with the sadness--see my suffering as suffering with purpose.

Today, as tired as I am, I am thankful that we have a God who is not distant; instead, we have a God who draws near. I am thankful for a husband who has been a rock of strength and faith to me, a great dad to his kids. And, I'm thankful that my suffering isn't just about character building because I don't think I'd ever find enough strength or faith to rejoice in that.