The accelerator was slammed hard against the floor. With one hand I gripped the wheel and with the other I tightly clutched the hand of my tearful wife. Only moments before, she had bled significantly. Having buried our first born son only two months earlier, we thought that these frantic last few minutes foretold calamity. Our wearied souls which seemed to be only loosely held together by the glue of hope were now bracing for the smashing blow of a miscarriage. And as we raced toward the hospital amidst a flurry of cellphone activity, I looked at my sweet wife and said, “It seems we are cursed.”

I had sunk to this state as I examined the irony of our despair. I am a children’s pastor. I have even dedicated my ministry to “reaching the next generation for Christ.” Pictures of a little stick figure family were on my business cards and scattered all throughout my church’s children’s ministry. Yet, our home’s tranquil silence has never interrupted by the cry of an infant. My wife and I had no little ones to great us with a “Hi daddy” or “I love you mommy” when we walked in the door. Twice we had prayed specifically for children. And twice God had blessed us with babies in the womb. And now it seemed God would take both of our children prematurely. My heart was crushed by grief. I truly wondered if God knew how much I could handle (I Cor. 10:13).

But God had not failed me. Somewhere during the process of grieving for my firstborn son and celebrating the conception of my second child, I had made this new baby my hope. I had convinced myself that I could keep ministering to families because I would soon have a family. I could handle the despair of leaving a maternity ward without a baby because I had the promise of walking out with a baby strapped into a car seat. I could deal with the empty cradle because it would have a new occupant in about eight months.

By making the baby my hope, I had taken my eyes off of Christ. I had made a created thing my hope. Consequently, I could find only despair. The Psalmist warns: we are not to “trust in princes, in a son of man in whom there is no salvation” (Ps 146:3). No baby, youth, teenager, or grown child can give us joy everlasting. Because they are infected with a sin nature, they will die, they will make foolish choices, and they will leave us hurting, unfulfilled, and hopeless. But as I remembered later that night via the Holy Spirit, all believers still very much have hope!

As believers, we always have the good and loving comfort of our heavenly father! I felt cursed because I had left Christ. But God never left me, and he will never forsake any of his children (Deut. 31:6). When children die, or declare that they are not Christians, or brazenly reject the word of God to embrace sin, we should utter the words of Lamentations 3:19-24:

My soul continually remembers it
and is bowed down within me.
²¹But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:

²²The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
²³they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
²⁴“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”

Yes, we have grief. Yes, we join with the cries of “Come, Lord Jesus!” But we have hope. God’s love does not leave us in the midst of suffering. No, it encompasses us through scripture and the ministry of others. We can have hope because God’s character does not change with our circumstances. He is still good, merciful, compassionate, just, and long suffering even when we lose everything that is dear to our souls. God will uphold us through every trial. “Remember child of God, you are a sheep that can never lose its Shepherd, a child that can never lose its Father” (Spurgeon, p. 156).

Moreover as believers, we have the hope that everything including the death of a baby and the foolish actions a rebellious teenager are under his control. And all of these events are planned by God to benefit us, the people of God. Even the hardest most unwanted trial is for our benefit so that we may be perfect and complete. Romans 8:28 makes this truth every so clear. As Charles Spurgeon wrote, “This is the best promise of life” (p. 242) And no matter how many children we lose to death or to sin, we still know that we have an “inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.” As Spurgeon notes, “our highest, best, and most vital interests are beyond even the shadow of harm” (p. 216).

Now some might question if God really does use evil to accomplish his loving will. I simply direct you to the cross. Can we think of anything more horrific than killing the son of God? Yet, God used this most evil act to save you, me, and every believer. The wickedest act of all time accomplished the greatest good for humanity (I Peter 2:24). If God can use the vilest event in history for our good, he can and does use our specific sufferings for our good! We can join with Joseph declaring, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Gen 50:20).

That frantic night, I was not cursed. My idol was smashed by the realities of a cruel world, but God had remained true to his word. Several hours later because of God’s mercy and compassion, I repented of my false hope. Over the next three weeks, my wife and I made several frightful trips to our doctor’s office with no assurance of the baby’s survival. Thankfully by God’s grace, our second child appears to be healthy growing in the womb. But, this baby can never be our hope. Regardless of how long this baby lives and regardless of whether it becomes a corrupt politician or a revered saint, we will always have hope and joy because of who our God is.

“My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and righteousness!”

Works Cited

Spurgeon, C. (1999). Beside Stil Waters: Words of Comfort for the Soul . Nashville: Thomas Nelson.

After quick scan of the Christmas tree, we all let out a sigh of relief and then began giggling. My younger siblings and I had once again found our favorite Christmas ornament stealthily hidden behind the dark green branches of our tree. With glee, we energetically returned the cardboard decoration, containing my older brother’s preschool class photo (a photo which had been snapped under protest) to the center of the tree. A few hours later, we would notice that our well-teased older brother had moved the ornament back to the dark side of the tree. Undaunted, we would once again take it upon ourselves to cheerfully return the pouty face picture to the front of the tree. As the years went by, we launched an unofficial Witkowski family tradition ornament hide and seek!

In the same way, many of us view Christmas as a time to play hide and seek with the undesirable pictures of life. We strive to jingle all the way through December. Everywhere we look, we see smiling children, happy families, and cheery movies. When we peek into church, we catch a view of nativity sets staffed by cute, little faces adorned in colorful bedding and drapes. We naturally conclude that Christmas is about being happy on earth. Seeking to comply with the Christmas way, we often spend several weeks each winter pretending that our lives are free from the consequences of the fall. We banish the images of a mother grieving the absence of her child, of an unemployed father unable to buy gifts for his children, and of a child distressed by the absence of a grandparent to the undecorated side of our trees. We try to hide the dark side of Christmas.

Though society may not see the sorrow sketched into our hearts, we have to admit that our sorrow returns often to the front of our minds. Regardless how hard we strive to greet people with an upbeat, “Merry Christmas,” we cannot will ourselves to happiness. As white lights begin to sparkle, we find ourselves alone in darkness.

But the good news of the Christmas story is that we are not called to the impossible task of wishing away our worries. Nor are we called to ride a one-horse-open-sleigh to other extreme of decorating our houses with grumpy pictures. We are called to overcome our despair through Christ.

Jesus came to earth to save his hurting people from the darkness. Jesus came so that the innocent, little babies Herod murdered could rest in the arms of God the Father (Mat 2:16-18). Jesus came so that the weeping voices that echoed long ago through the hills Bethlehem could have comfort. Jesus came, lived, died, and rose again to overcome the evil from without and the evil from within. Jesus came to give the sorrow laden people who believe on him hope and everlasting joy.

And as we celebrate Christ birth thousands of years later, we do not have to hide our sorrows in darkness, greeting everyone with one of Santa’s famous “Ho, Ho Ho!” Nor do we make our suffering the center of the holiday season, complaining Grinch-ly that everything happy is but, “noise, noise noise!” As Christians, we overcome the darkness of holiday depression with the truth of the gospel that appeared in the form of baby! As C.J. Mahaney writes, “Don’t listen to yourself; talk to yourself…expend your energies admiring, exploring, expositing, and extolling Jesus Christ” (Mahaney, 2002).

As we prepare to open presents, we can admit that we miss seeing grandma sitting in her favorite chair. We can reminisce about our spouse’s cheerful smile that accompanied every plate of scrumptious pancakes. And, we can shed tears for the baby who never saw its parent’s modest little tree. We can mourn the effects of sin that removed God’s blessings from our lives. But, we do not stop here.

We begin preaching to ourselves. We rejoice this Christmas because Jesus’s arrival points us to the gift of eternal life, a gift that far outweighs any amount of earthly suffering. We will once again see our loved ones in glory and know that one day all of this world’s injustice will be set aright. As we gaze at candy canes, we know that God’s mercy is new every morning, caring us through all of our struggles. We can trust God’s promise to never leave of forsake us. And as we sip hot cocoa, we can encourage one another with the assurance of Christ’s next coming. We look forward to the new heavens and new earth where the:

The voice of weeping shall no longer be heard in her,
Nor the voice of crying.

No more shall an infant from there live but a few days,
Nor an old man who has not fulfilled his days; (Isaiah 65:19a-20).

As we remember the one who was born manger, we can sing “With heart, and soul, and voice” because “Jesus Christ was born to save.”

This Christmas, we do not have to wish our suffering out of sight. Nor do we have to display it prominently for all to see. Rather, we admit that we suffer. Then, we embrace our savior who suffered and died to save his people. Because of Christ, we who are predisposed to haunt the darkest corners of the Christmas season may now joyful sing:

“Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel!”