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Inspirational Articles by Lygia Lovelace

 

A Sacrifice of Praise

 


“Lord, did you decide to take away my morning sickness, or is there a problem?” I asked each morning. I felt a sense of foreboding in my spirit, and soon began to pray fervently that God would bring the morning sickness. I longed for that feeling of nausea and exhaustion.

 

Finally, I forced myself to see the doctor. He confirmed that there indeed was a problem. “We can wait it out, if you want…but really you ought to go ahead and end this pregnancy.” he advised.

 

I assured him that I would wait to see what God would do, and then I left his office. Tears blurred my eyes and I could barely find the door. I tried to call Ken, but my cell phone wouldn’t work.

 

I fought my way to the bathroom down the hall and locked myself in a stall. Thankfully, no one was there. I threw myself to the floor in a storm of tears. Even though the doctor had not told me it was completely hopeless, I still knew in my spirit that this baby would not survive. No words even came to mind as I cried.

 

As I drove home alone, my mind still searched for something to pray.

 

Nothing came! I knew the Spirit was interceding for me (Romans 8:26-27), but I still wanted to say something to the Father, my Father. All I could think of were Job’s words: The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised (Job 1:21).

 

Each time I repeated that verse, God filled me with His strength. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.

 

Though my heart was broken, His Spirit was teaching me to praise Him—in the midst of my despair. I didn’t even want to praise Him. But the words kept coming.

 

After awhile, I pulled up in front of the house. By this time, I had given the news to Ken, and he had told our older children. My firstborn son, my precious twelve-year-old Bracken, came bursting out of the door.

 

I quickly wiped my face. I wanted to be strong! I didn’t want him to see me crying.

 

He was crying. He grabbed me in a hug and whispered through his tears, “Romans 8:28, Mom, remember? Romans 8:28!”

 

I remembered. It was just a few verses away from the ones I had been thinking of—about how the Sprit was interceding for me.

 

He began to repeat the verse. I repeated it with him, in my mind. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

 

The next few weeks were full of prayers and trips to the doctor for sonograms. There was still no change and seemingly no life inside my womb.

 

“You can still work a miracle, Father, You know You can! Breathe life into this little one! Please, God! Don’t forsake us! We want this baby!” I constantly interceded for my little one. I looked up verse after verse on prayer, and I prayed in Jesus’ name.

 

You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it. John 14:14

 

I claimed this verse for my baby. Still there was no change. The doctor gently recommended that we do something, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted God to do something.

 

Finally, after several more weeks, my body let go and miscarried. I felt like all of my hopes and dreams, and even joy left along with the evidence of my pregnancy. It was God’s decision. It seemed so final.

 

And I didn’t like it.

 

I spent the next few weeks in bed. Because of this difficult pregnancy, I also lost an ovary. The doctor said it would be possible for me to become pregnant again, but not easily. And at my age, he said, I was at greater risk of losing more babies.

While in bed, I brooded before the Lord. “Your promises must not be true!” I complained. “After all, I prayed for this baby in Your Name! Why didn’t You let the baby live? Why didn’t You work a miracle? You healed Jonah… why not this baby?”

 

My listlessness and depression concerned my family. Bracken was particularly attentive to my sorrow. Though he didn’t know what to say that would make me feel better, he wanted to help. I woke up one afternoon to his playing violin in our bedroom, near where I had been napping. He was playing hymns and practicing his violin songs—something he knew I loved listening to.

 

He wanted to be sure I heard.

 

As I lay there listening, my eyes fell upon a book…His book…God’s Word…the Bible. Slowly I picked it up. I knew I should have been reading all along. As I opened the cover, God began his anointing oil of healing, to my soul…

 

I wish I could give you a lot of easy answers. I wish I could tell you exactly why God chose not to let this baby live on earth. I wish I could explain why babies die and mothers miscarry. I wish I could even tell you that I understand everything about praying. But I can’t, and I don’t.

 

What I can tell you is that God is a loving, sovereign God, who cried with me throughout the short life, and then death of my baby. I know that He eagerly and gently took that little miracle in His arms when it was time.

 

I also know that I don’t get everything that I ask for, and that I must just trust Him in those times. Praying in Jesus’ name doesn’t mean I’ll get what I want if I speak those specific words. It means that I am willing to submit to His best, His sovereignty, and His decision. It’s an act of obedience on my part, and it takes a huge step of faith to receive His decision joyfully.

 

I have also learned what it means to truly give that sacrifice of praise.

 

Though I must admit I don’t always do it, I have learned what it means to praise Him, even when I don’t feel like it. It is my privilege to offer this sacrifice to Him. He deserves everything I have to offer. As I continue to grow in Him, I pray that more and more I will praise Him, in every circumstance of my life.


Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—
the fruit of lips that confess his name.

Hebrews 13:15

 

 

 



Copyright © 2011. Faith Matters by Lygia Lovelace. All rights reserved. KenLovelaceMinistries.com




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