A Lost Coin and Grace Sufficient
Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. - Luke 15:8-9
I have no idea how many times I have read or heard preached the parable of the lost coin. In the last year, I can recall a sermon at a meeting, contrasting the lost sheep (wandered away), the lost coin (lost through no action on it's part), and the prodigal son (willfully left). It was a great sermon about the links that God goes to for his children. Recently though I read some thoughts that gave me a little bit different point of view.
I have before read that the coin a drachma, which isn't worth all that much. I have the argument that she must have been a poor woman, she had 10 of these coins, and so even though it wasn't worth much it was 1/10 of what she had (in contrast to 1/100 sheep or 1/2 sons). Even so, I've wondered about it. After all, even if it was a vast sum of money in her life, money can be earned again. I've wondered if this coin has more significance than just a coin.
Have you ever noticed where a number of historical pictures of Hebrew woman show them with a headband of coins. After doing some digging in different commentaries, and trying to comb through some historical material on Jewish marriage customs, I found that perhaps the thoughts in my book answered my question about if the coin had a great significance to the women in the story. Apparently when a woman was betrothed in Judea in that time, they would wear a headband with 10 silver coins from their father sewn into it. It would be part of her dowry, and it would be an outward symbol (much like our engagement ring and wedding band) that she was no longer available, that she was married. The author wrote, "it would be considered a calamity for her to lose one of those coins." Then she asked us to imagine our response to lose a wedding band or treasured piece of jewelry.*
Now I imagine that most of us could easily picture the panic and stress of losing something with more than just monetary value, but immense personal value. My mind immediately went to Abigail's bracelet. And the real reason that I'm blogging today.
After we lost Abigail, I was crushed. I couldn't function. There is no feeling to compare to the devastation of walking out of the maternity wing of the hospital without your baby. To sit down to check out at the financial office, and hear them say, "No baby, I guess it was a false alarm." The insane emptiness of having no baby, to hold. Wanting to pull them close, arms aching, and having a square hard memory box, no squishy baby. The day that we went home, Gary needed me to pack up everything that we needed for the drive down to Florida, to bury Abigail, and I just couldn't think what things we needed, then when I'd think of something I'd walk into the next room, only to not have a clue what I'd gone in there for. Grief is a lot more than just missing someone, it makes your brain fog up, it makes everything really difficult, it makes you feel like everything, from the air around you to a mental decision, weighs a literal physical ton. And in the case of a miscarriage or stillbirth, you also have this feeling of nothingness. You have nothing to share, no proof that your child was here. Are you going crazy, was this pregnancy just a figment of your imagination, only you "really know" that they were a real live actual person.
I couldn't bring myself to take off my hospital bracelet. It had Elizabeth Cunningham and Baby Cunningham on it. It was physical proof that I had a baby. That she was mine, and she was real. The ink started to run inside it, from showers and baths and hand washing and I cried because it too, my physical proof, was falling apart. I knew I wanted a bracelet for her. I needed one. Gary told me to pick out what I wanted. I got on Etsy, and I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at bracelets for mothers, for memory keepsakes, for stillbirths, and finally settled on one. I spent alot of time thinking about just what I wanted it to say. I spent alot of time thinking about the metal. I messaged the seller and over a week, and several messages, we worked out a design and a price. It was $100 not so much in the grand scheme of things, not so much compared with all the jewelry in the world. But still I hemmed and hawed, we were still out of work, was it a frivolous use of the money we had been given to help us with the expenses of Abigail and unemployment. Gary told me to go ahead.
I wore that bracelet every day for over a year without taking it off for anything more than the length of time I was in the shower. I slept in it, I wore it everywhere. One morning in a rush of getting ready for Church at Gary's parents I didn't put it back on before we left. I panicked in the Church yard. I called back to Joan and she'd already left, but she'd go back if I needed her too. But, it would have made her miss the start of preaching, so crying I told her not to. The second Church was over, I went after it, I skipped lunch to go after it.
Another Church meeting weekend, a link in it broke, so we went by Michael's and picked up some more little loops to fix it. Gary had me wrap it all up together with the promise that he would get his pliers out when we got home, and bend it all back into place. Only when we got home, I couldn't find it. I tore the car apart. I went through every bag we had carried. I pulled the floor mats out. I moved the seats around. I took out the kids' car seats, even though there was no earthly way it had ended up back there. I pried off the cover to the electrical panel in the floorboard to see if it had gotten stuck in there. I cried and cried and cried over losing it, because it was like losing Abigail all over again. I finally decided that when we had stopped at the gas station on Sunday afternoon, while Gary was pumping gas, and I was cleaning all the trash out of the car, that I must have thrown it away. Gary ordered me a new one, and again I told him we should have spent the money on some other need. He disagreed. He's a good man. And about 6 months later, I found it. I was overjoyed.
You know, when God's children go astray, he searches for them like that, except he doesn't give up on us. He seeks to restore fellowship with us, in the same way that woman lit a candle swept out the entire house to catch a glimpse of a missing coin, in the same way I about tore apart our car to find Abigail's bracelet. You know sometimes I think sometimes we are guilty of thinking about things intellectually and not letting the full impact of the truth of the gospel really resonate with us. To really feel it, not just think about it. Sometimes I think we are too slow to share our story with others. To share what great things he has done for us.
You know, when God's children go astray, he searches for them like that, except he doesn't give up on us. He seeks to restore fellowship with us, in the same way that woman lit a candle swept out the entire house to catch a glimpse of a missing coin, in the same way I about tore apart our car to find Abigail's bracelet. You know sometimes I think sometimes we are guilty of thinking about things intellectually and not letting the full impact of the truth of the gospel really resonate with us. To really feel it, not just think about it. Sometimes I think we are too slow to share our story with others. To share what great things he has done for us.
I still think about Abigail all the time, but I don't talk about her that much. I feel like people don't want to hear about her, that it's too sad. That I should be "over it" whatever that's suppose to mean. People want to read funny stories about the kids, or see cute pictures. They want to hear about how things are going well, not about the struggles we have in our own minds, or the uncertainties and stresses of daily life. They certainly don't want to think about dead babies and what that must feel like.
The truth though is that we can't share what great things God has done for us, if we don't talk about the ugly parts of life. The verse that we love so much, that has been "our" verse since before the kids where born, has some how become the theme of our life. I have joked with Gary that maybe we should have picked a different verse. It's the verse that is in the tag line of our blog. However, the part you see there, as pretty as it is, is only the last half of the sentence. The reason that we love verse 18 is really because of verse 17.
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation. - Habakkuk 3:17-18
No matter what is going on, we are to find joy in God, because he saved us. It's easy to have joy when we have a good job, and we have a cute healthy baby. It's more of a spiritual work out to retain joy when you've buried your baby. Verse 18 is so powerful because of everything the writer is enduring in verse 17. The Apostle Paul put it another way in a verse that is etched on Abigail's bracelet.
And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. -II Corinthians 12:9-10
In the last several months I've been angry with God, wanting to know why he didn't step in and save Abigail. I've been hit all over again, that this won't end. There's no magic point, when all of a sudden I get her back, and get to say, thank goodness that's over. There is a 2 year old shadow child here, that isn't here. I've not wanted to find joy of thankfulness in this. And don't get me wrong, I'm still not "thankful" for the experience. If I had the option to have her here, I would take it. I didn't want this "character building experience," this isn't the story I wanted. I want all my children, not just four of them. But I'm trying to learn like Paul, that I can have pleasure in this distress for Christ's sake, because in this He is glorified. I can be pleased not that I lost a child and that this chapter of life will never come to an end, but pleased that in this He is glorified. The fact that we continue. The fact that our marriage didn't fall apart, when so many do after child loss. The fact that we have a rainbow baby, when many don't. The fact that the anxiety doesn't keep me in the house, not allowing the kids to do anything. The fact that so many of the things that happen in the lives of a couple who have lost a child, haven't happened to us, is a living breathing testimony to the power of God. The fact that instead we have only grown as a couple. That instead we have bravely tried for another child, despite the anxiety. That we haven't done a 180 in our parenting, parenting out of fear. The fact that we still believe in a powerful, gracious God and still try to follow and serve Him. It all speaks to the power of God. People kept saying you are so strong, I couldn't do that. The truth is that you do it, or you die - whether that's literal, or you become such a shell it's as if you were dead. The truth is that when you keep going it's not because you are so strong. I mean, I just shared how impossible all of a sudden packing a suitcase was. It's the weakest, most pathetic I've ever felt. His strength is revealed to everyone around you, he appears strong (though he always was) BECAUSE your own weakness has been revealed to everyone around you.
*Priscilla Shirer in her book "Jonah: Navigating a Life Interrupted" quoting Warren W. Wiersbe's "The Bible Exposition Commentary"
0 random thoughts