I Have Decided to Follow Jesus

Even as I begin, I am going back and forth on that title, because that song belongs to someone of great faith, one who gave all. This was not a flimsy line or song of human faith or will, or an emotional stirring of how easy it is to give our lives to Christ. What became India's first widespread Christian hymn was a martyr's last words in the 1880's. This man spoke the words of the song as his children, then his wife and after he finally proclaimed, "the cross before me, the world behind me", he was arrowed down as well, joining his family in martyrdom. The great persecutor, the chief of his tribe, upon witnessing Christ's work, spontaneously declared his faith in Jesus and the violent, bloodthirsty tribe was turned to Jesus Christ.

So, I pale in comparison. But Jesus shines bright in every situation. The last line of that man's life rang true to me a few days ago as I equated it to my own line of thinking: My fear behind me, my faith before me. Fear is of the world, and I have been experiencing my fair share of doubt and fear in the past few weeks. Faith is of the cross. The only way that I can say "my" faith is knowing that it really isn't mine at all. If it were, I would certainly be the most arrogant being on earth.

My faith is in Jesus Christ. It is not faith in my efforts, goodness, steadfastness or fortitude. My faith is in Jesus Christ, so I get to-- by His grace to us-- claim Him. His efforts, goodness and steadfastness and all that He accomplished on the cross of which we sing, they are all mine. "Amazing grace" just doesn't cut it, folks! But the praise and thanksgiving we can and should have is limited by our human state.

Accordingly, my faith should be immeasurable. Not there yet. I pray I keep inching closer. But that is my desire as I follow the Immeasurable.

Loss is hard. God's great love for "the least of these" has been pouring into me more and more over the past few months. Even during transfer, as we were told two embryos had not survived the thaw, I felt loss. Other mothers may know this feeling, but the week after transfer, I knew I was pregnant. Friday I knew it, by Saturday night-- though I didn't relent my hopefulness-- I knew I wasn't. Even if I never was actually pregnant, the loss of three lives is utter pain. At one point, I felt some sort of badge would help me identify with someone else so I could lessen the blow. The badge of miscarriage wasn't necessarily confirmed but no badge helps anyway. We are in our own journey and ultimately it is our own pain, which on some level is unrelatable.

On top of loss was bitter disagreement between Tim and I about our next step. I have never felt so distant from him, but I was thanking God for the reassurance that we would be all right, that we would come to agreement. Yet, in the meantime, it was literally gut-wrenching anguish.

Early on in grief and deciding to attempt another transfer, God gave me this:

There are still lives that need a chance. There are still conversations to have and blogs to write. There is still, more so, opportunity to show and experience faith with our kids-- and demonstrating the cost thereof. There is still more depth to engage in the ocean of God. There is still more trial to better show Gods glory in the triumph. There are still more hands to lift in surrender and praise. There is still more to know of God to make Him known.

As most of you know, we are planning embryo transfer in September. I am excited, elated and waiting to see what the Lord is going to do but fear crept in a few times. The fear is stepping onto the same path that could bring the same pain. Then God reminds me "Faith not fear. Fear behind me, faith before me."

The world behind me, the cross before me. No turning back, no turning back.