Comfort in “Coincidences”: A Story of the Incomparable Goodness of God - From Diana
Comfort in “Coincidences”: A Story of the Incomparable Goodness of God - From Diana
Recently, I shared that my husband Ben and I were experiencing a sudden, devastating storm, and I said that I was planning to devote a future blog to it. At the time of that writing, I had just begun miscarrying our second child and, frankly, hadn’t yet processed the loss on any level.
I had no idea what the theme of that future blog would be. Faith in God’s sovereignty and goodness? The ages-old battle between carnal doubt and spiritual hope? Sympathy and strength from the family of God? I wasn’t ready to put my thoughts on paper, as my mind was devoid of anything but grief, grief, and more grief. One beautiful, bright Sunday morning I had plainly seen two lines on a pregnancy test (a few tests, actually…), and four days later I was mourning the loss of a life I was already in love with and imagining welcoming into the world in nine short months.
Now, one week since the storm commenced, I know which direction to write in, because God has led me straight to it through multiple “coincidences” that simultaneously silenced, shook, and solaced me.
On the evening of October 15th, which was day the loss began, I was out walking our giant schnauzer and gazing up at the stars as I prayed. “Lord, please,” I whispered, “please give me a sign that our child is with you.”
I knew in my heart that the baby, despite his or her tiny size, was in God’s presence, but my hurting soul was yearning for something tangible to grab onto, something physical to behold with my tear-stung eyes.
After my dad passed away in 2009, I occasionally saw – as woo-woo as this sounds – giant orbs of light hovering low in the night sky over my family’s hay meadow. Just hours before my dad died, we had talked at length about the Perseid meteor shower that would soon be in full swing, and he had shown me his new book called Cosmos, which was filled with mindboggling photographs of celestial exotica. The orbs I saw were, in my mind, God’s way of communicating to me that my astronomy-loving father was very much alive, enjoying the majesty of the heavens from the ultimate vantage point.
As I was having my coffee the morning of the 16th, Ben sent me an Instagram post featuring an article titled “We Need to Talk More Openly and Compassionately About Miscarriage.” But that article wasn’t what he wanted me to see, but rather, this caption:
“October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. If your heart has been shattered by a miscarriage or infant loss, please know you are never alone” (emphasis mine).
Immediately, my spirit recognized the message as the answer to my recent prayer for a sign. The realization that the date of our loss is the date when millions of women remember their own heartaches not only confirmed to me that God indeed draws near to the brokenhearted and stores our tears in his bottle, but that I’m not alone in my sadness.[1]Quite the contrary, it’s estimated that one in four recognized pregnancies result in miscarriage, which means there are countless women around the world who have wept as I have wept, hurt as I have hurt, prayed as I have prayed…for comfort, for strength, for signs and sweet assurance.
The devil would have us believe that no one knows our pain or can relate to what we’re going through, but that’s absolutely a lie, one that’s been applauded and perpetuated by the powers of darkness for millennia because the feeling of isolation, of pitiable exceptionality, convinces us that it would be foolish and futile to seek support from others. According to Satan’s scheme, the longer we remain cooped up with the weight of our sorrow and emptiness, and scores of questions, the better his chances of plunging us into a mire of soul-dimming despair. The moment we reach out for a hand to hold onto, an ear to speak into, or a heart to connect with, healing can begin.
The next evening, Ben and I stayed up a little later than usual to finish watching something on YouTube, and when it was over, I mindlessly began scrolling through the home screen. After a few seconds, a video immediately caught my eye, and Ben and I knew sleep would have to be postponed a while longer.
The video, from evangelist and author Perry Stone, was titled “The Unborn in Heaven.” Ever since I was introduced to Perry’s teachings back in 2009, the Lord has used him to encourage me tremendously, and this video was no exception.[2]In this message, Perry talks about his unborn daughter who died at seven weeks.
Years prior to the loss, he had a dream in which two little girls, one healthy, the other sickly, appeared to him. The healthy-looking girl told him her name was Amanda and that she was his daughter. When he asked who the other little girl was, she answered, “That’s my sister, Rochelle.” Perry and his wife later looked up the name Rochelle and learned it means “little stone,” an especially meaningful name considering the family surname! After having their firstborn, a son, which was followed by the loss of Rochelle a few years later, they had a healthy baby girl whom they naturally named Amanda, which means “worthy of love.”
But the story doesn’t end there. Before one of Perry’s preaching engagements in Griffin, Georgia, a local artist brought several of her drawings into the greenroom and told Perry she wanted to gift him with any one that he liked. When he spotted a piece featuring a little girl, he started to shake; it looked just like the girl he’d seen in his dream some twenty years earlier. The drawing hangs in his office as a reminder that “the soul and spirit of the little child that was miscarried is with the Lord.” Perry then quoted 2 Samuel 12:23 in which King David speaks of his deceased son who died as an infant:
“Can I bring him back again? I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me.”
Perry proceeded to tell the story of a stranger who wrote to him, knowing nothing of his daughter Rochelle. She had dreamed of going to heaven and, along with seeing her son, saw Rochelle who stated that she was Perry and Pam Stone’s daughter. She informed Perry that he had a child waiting for him in heaven, confirming his own unforgettable dream.
When I heard the words, “waiting for you in heaven,” the reality of the astounding promise of reunion struck me, and the tears that had been welling in my eyes cascaded down my cheeks. I smiled. I sniffled. I stuttered praises to God for yet another “coincidence” confirming that our little baby was safe in paradise, waiting to meet us the instant the good Lord calls us home.
Think of how powerless death actually is! Rather than rid us of our health, it introduces us to “riches eternal.” In exchange for poor health, death gives us a right to the Tree of Life that is for “the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2). Death might temporarily take our friends from us, but only to introduce us to that land in which there are no good-byes. – Erwin Lutzer
There have been other minor, yet no less impactful, events that have further comforted us and lifted our gazes to our Father’s face, but the two I’ve written about were the immediate answers to my desperate, childlike prayer, and I know I will never forget them, nor cease being thankful for them.
Acts 17:27 says God “is not far from any one of us,” and yet how often do we imagine that he is far away, hidden inside some unapproachable throne room, with infinitely more important things to do than concern himself with our trivial requests for signs and consolation. This is another satanic lie meant to keep us from asking the giver of all “good and perfect” gifts for silver linings and patches of blue amid the squalls and storms of life.
“The Lord is good” is a phrase most of us have heard repeated all our lives, and so unfortunately, it often sounds trite, rooted more in sentiment and tradition than truth. But it is the truth, and we cannot let the enemy rob us of the joy that comes when we embrace it by asking God for the things our souls desire.
Things like discernment for a difficult decision.
Wisdom for handling a draining, perhaps toxic, relationship.
Patience for parenting a rebellious child.
Discipline for regularly eating well and working out.
Comfort for the loss of a loved one, or an unborn baby.
Whatever the burden you are carrying, whatever the pain lodged deep in your heart, I urge you to give it to God and to ask him for a “coincidence,” for a supernatural glimpse of his goodness and the unparalleled conviction that he is with you always, “even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). And after you’ve asked, ask him for the sensitivity needed to perceive the gift, because if we are too immersed in the news, our to-do list, and other cares of this world, we will miss the mercies of heaven.
“As the route of your life path and your winks from God begin to emerge—like a rainbow out of the mists of your mind—you will be struck by the message of hope that it holds for you.” ― Squire Rushnell
[1][1]Psalm 34:18;
[2]The night my dad died, I had been talking to him at length about one of Perry Stone’s recent series on near-death and actual death experiences. In it, Perry’s guests shared their incredible experiences in paradise, and after hearing me recount all I’d heard, my dad said remarked, “I know heaven will be fantastic.” It was one of the last statements he made before entering heaven’s gate