The Newborn God

 I've been slowly making my way through Psalms through the last year. It's not a long book, but it was still hard for me to read very much of at a time. All that praise! All that rejoicing! Or, in different chapters, all that angst about enemies! But mostly, all that praise!

It's not, of course, that I don't believe we should praise God. But sometimes it seemed like a little too much at once, I have to admit.

At times I imagined a conversation with someone who didn't believe in God, imagined trying to convince them why they should worship God.

"It's in our human nature to worship something. After all, we worship sports and politics. May as well worship God."

"So clearly I already have the worship fix I need from those," the imaginary friend would respond.

"But God has done so many wonderful things for you!"

"Like what? I don't believe in sin, don't believe God does anything to change the weather, and don't believe God cares for me."

"Well, as soon as you start worshiping, you'll start realizing how much God has done for you!"

"Oh, so worship is like one of those things you find at the flea market that you don't realize you need until you buy it."

By then I had been lying in bed too long, so the imaginary discussion ended. All I could think of was, "You don't know you want to hold a newborn til you start holding one!"

Speaking of newborns, in a slightly different timeline, I could be having one in about a month. But I'm not.

And the strangest thing has been how fine I've been with it. I didn't cry at all when there was no heartbeat. I cheerfully chatted with Matthew's teacher when we were picking up his homework folder just a few hours after the fetus's tissues were surgically extracted from my uterus.

Perhaps some of it was related to the silly philosophy I came up with in May -- suffering is unnecessary. Back then maybe I defined suffering as trials. Trials are unnecessary, I reasoned, because we will still learn and grow without trials in heaven. Hence, trials are unnecessary now!

Well, what I knew before May and figured out pretty quickly after May was this: whether or not they're necessary, trials are inevitable. But I still maintain that suffering is not inevitable. When I would see my friends and family calmly handle situations that would have me in a panic, I began to realize that reactions were not inevitable. Thought patterns were not inevitable. And I didn't have to make myself suffer.

And so when we first saw the cystic hygroma on the ultrasound, while I waited for the results from the screening, I said, "I'm not going to be mad at God no matter what happens." And I never was. I had a miscarriage seven years ago where I was incredibly mad at God, but this time that just wasn't part of the experience. It seemed very clear to me that the chromsomal abnormality had created a body for her that did exactly what it was supposed to -- to stop working during the second trimester. And if things had gone exactly as they were supposed to, why would I be mad about that?

In a way it was almost paradoxical -- the fate of the pregnancy was completely up to God, yet I found myself expecting almost nothing from God. Of course I prayed for good outcomes, but by the end what I prayed for most was to have love for a baby that was making life very scary and complicated. God gave me that love, and that was enough. That was the day I stopped crying.

In some ways this pregnancy was a microcosm of so many events the past two years. I think we have all had to rely more on God and yet expect less. Cause and effect, obedience and blessings, covenants and promises all seem muddier than they used to be. I still pray for miracles, still pray for good health, still pray for precipitation, but all I know for certain is that God will help me forgive and love.

So why worship a God like this, a God that lets wildfires happen where there should be snowstorms, a God that lets so many kids suffer from abuse, a God that lets viruses mutate and fetuses drown in their own bodies?

Because this is the same God that openly acknowledges the absurdity of it all. This is the God who says, "You don't have to worship me for all the wonders of the earth, because sometimes those wonders are catastrophes. You don't have to worship me for fear that I will punish you otherwise, because I know that is not real worship. But come and see me at the manger. Come and hold a newborn. Breathe in the scent of new life, of new hope. Let yourself expect nothing from the newborn, yet find yourself wanting to never leave."

For me, that is one of the greatest gifts of Christmas. We see God at His most vulnerable, and we are drawn to Him there. We expect nothing and hope for everything.

Little wonder that the Psalmist could write,

 I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.

 Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.