It’s been three months since we transferred a little embryo to my uterus, hoping and praying and believing Jesus that He would give life to that baby.
I’ll be honest with you — the last three months have held some incredibly hard moments. I personally have been going through a lot of questions in my mind, most of which I already know the answers to, but my heart doesn’t understand.
What’s left for us?
It’s really difficult to be at a dead end. It’s really difficult to not have a timeline of when things will progress, and it’s really difficult to look back on how much time we have spent pursuing adoption so far, and how little we have to show for it.
It’s really difficult to have no plans in place; no industry professionals telling us they’re moving things forward on our behalf. To have no ‘next step’ to conquer, and nothing to hide our hope behind.
It’s really difficult to once again have to hang all we have on the hope we find when staring into the eyes of Jesus. The same Jesus that, in his infinite wisdom, chose this heartache for us.
My natural tendency is to not make eye contact when I am upset with someone. When I have been hurt, let down, or rejected, the last thing I want to do is make eye contact with the one who is in that mess with me. It’s not a conscious decision — if you think about it, you probably do it, too. That’s because eye contact creates intimacy. It breaks down the invisible walls we try to erect to protect ourselves from more pain. Eye contact invites the other person in, says to them, “I’m focused on you, ready to receive whatever you’re about to throw at me.”
I realized recently that I’ve been avoiding ‘eye contact’ with Jesus. I’ve been doing everything I can do to avert my eyes from His, because in that looking there is longing and intimacy. In that gaze is where I have to decide whether I am going to believe that what His word says is true; that there is ‘more’ for us. And I don’t want to do that, because ‘more’ is scary. More what? More heartache, more disappointment? More waiting? More promises? More empty rooms and womb and hearts?
But He calls me. And His Spirit draws me in.
And I’m reminded that we are told to look into His gaze — not to see a reflection of our brokenness, but to see His redemption working in our hearts; His example of endurance and faithfulness.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” — Hebrews 12:1-3
When we make eye contact with the living God, He pioneers and perfects new faith in our hearts. When we set our faces like flint towards Him, He fills us with faith for the impossible, because He has already accomplished the impossible in us.
That’s the ‘more’ He has waiting for me. More promises, more comfort, more hope. More of Himself.
So I will look to Him. I will make eye contact with Him. I won’t be perfect in my pursuit, but I will continue to fix my eyes on Him, because I cannot hide my faith behind tangible steps in this adoption process that make me feel good or give me temporary assurance.
When there is nothing tangible to hold onto, I won’t be caught looking somewhere else to find hope. I’ll be locked into His gaze, which transforms and strengthens me.
I will not grow weary and lose heart, because I’m fixed on Him.
(I made a quick ‘fix your eyes’ wallpaper for my phone, to serve as a constant reminder for myself. If you’d like to have it, too, you can download it here.)