There are some questions that are easy to ask until life makes them personal.

What comes next?

Those three words can carry excitement when we are beginning a new chapter. But they can carry unbearable weight when something we desperately wanted has just ended.

Recently, my best friend and his wife experienced their third miscarriage.

Three times there was hope.

Three times there were dreams.

Three times their hearts began making room for someone they already loved.

And three times they were forced to grieve a child they never had the opportunity to watch grow up.

When someone you love experiences that kind of loss, you discover how inadequate words can be. You want to say something that will make the pain disappear, but there are wounds for which there are no sentences powerful enough to remove the ache.

And after the tears, prayers, appointments, questions, and disappointment comes another question:

What comes next?

I have been thinking deeply about that question. I have wrestled with God about that question.

I cannot tell them exactly what comes next. None of us can see around the corner of God’s providence. I cannot promise that another pregnancy is coming. I cannot put a date on a miracle. I cannot explain why God allowed three pregnancies to begin and then permitted three precious lives to leave this earth before their parents could hold them.

But I believe I can say something with confidence.

Their story is not over.

Three Children Heaven Knows by Name

One of the ideas that has encouraged me comes from Randy Alcorn’s 50 Days of Heaven. Alcorn reminds us that Heaven is not an imaginary place Christians use to make ourselves feel better about death. Heaven is real. The resurrection is real. Eternal life is real.

That changes how I think about miscarriage.

Those three children are not simply three miscarriages.

They are three lives.

Three souls.

Three children known completely by the God who created them.

David wrote:

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
Psalm 139:13

Their earthly lives were incredibly brief, but brief does not mean meaningless.

Their parents did not get to watch them take their first steps, hear their first words, celebrate their birthdays, teach them to ride bicycles, or watch them grow into adulthood. But their Heavenly Father knows them perfectly.

Jesus said:

“I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.”
John 11:25

Christian hope does not deny death. It declares that death does not get the final word.

I believe those three precious children are safe in the presence of their Heavenly Father. Their parents’ arms may be empty today, but Heaven is not empty.

And one day, because of Jesus, separation will give way to reunion.

Grief and Faith Can Occupy the Same Heart

Sometimes Christians feel pressure to hurry through grief because we are supposed to have faith.

But faith does not mean pretending something did not hurt.

Jesus knew Lazarus was about to walk out of the tomb, yet John 11:35 tells us:

“Jesus wept.”

Jesus knew resurrection was coming, and He still cried.

That tells me something important. Grief and faith are not enemies. Tears do not mean we have stopped trusting God. Sorrow does not mean our faith is weak. Sometimes tears are simply the evidence that we loved deeply and lost something precious.

David understood this kind of grief. In 2 Samuel 12, while his child was sick, David fasted, prayed, and pleaded with God for the child’s life. He refused food and spent the night lying on the ground before the Lord. But when the child died, David got up, washed himself, changed his clothes, went into the house of the Lord, and worshiped.

His servants could not understand his response. David explained that while the child was alive, he prayed because he did not know whether God might be gracious and spare him. But after the child died, David said something that has brought comfort to grieving parents for generations:

“I will go to him, but he will not return to me” (2 Samuel 12:23).

David acknowledged the painful reality of what had happened, but he also held onto hope beyond what he could presently see. He did not deny his grief. He did not pretend the loss was insignificant. He simply recognized that death would not have the final word.

There is something deeply comforting about that picture. David could not bring his child back, but he believed there would come a day when he would go where his child had gone.

For anyone who has experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or the loss of a child, those words can carry tremendous hope. There are questions we may never be able to answer on this side of eternity. There are prayers we prayed with everything inside of us that did not unfold the way we desperately hoped they would. But Scripture gives us permission to grieve deeply while still trusting that God is good and eternity is real.

We can cry and still believe.

We can mourn and still worship.

We can miss someone desperately and still have hope.

Jesus wept even though resurrection was coming. David grieved even while believing he would one day see his child again.

Sometimes faith is not found in avoiding the tears. Sometimes faith is found in allowing the tears to fall while whispering, “God, I still trust You.”

Knowing there is a resurrection does not eliminate the pain of separation.

You can believe your child is with God and still desperately wish your child were with you.

You can trust God and cry.

You can worship and wonder why.

You can believe in miracles and still feel devastated by what happened.

You can have faith and still grieve.

Those things are not contradictions.

You Were Programmed for More Than This Moment

Another thought that has stayed with me is the idea that we are programmed for greatness.

Think about a computer. The hardware can be perfectly capable, but corrupted software can cause it to operate contrary to its design. In the same way, painful experiences can begin installing messages in our minds that God never wrote.

After repeated loss, those messages can sound like:

Maybe it will never happen.

Maybe something is wrong with us.

Maybe God has forgotten us.

Maybe everyone else’s prayers get answered except ours.

Maybe we should stop hoping.

Those thoughts are understandable, but they cannot be allowed to become the final authority over our future.

Pain is real, but pain is a terrible prophet.

Loss can tell you what happened yesterday. It cannot tell you what God will do tomorrow.

Scripture says:

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.”
Ephesians 2:10

Your identity is not “the couple who keeps losing babies.”

Your identity is not “infertile.”

Your identity is not “forgotten.”

Your identity is not determined by a diagnosis, test result, pregnancy announcement, empty nursery, or unanswered question.

You belong to God.

You are loved by God.

You are seen by God.

And there is still purpose written over your life.

Sooner Than Expected

One of the hardest parts of infertility and pregnancy loss is watching time pass.

Another month.

Another appointment.

Another negative test.

Another pregnancy announcement from someone else.

Another due date that should have been.

Another anniversary of a day you would rather forget.

Waiting can make us believe that because something has taken a long time, nothing is happening.

But Scripture repeatedly shows God working where people cannot see Him.

Isaiah 60:22 contains a beautiful promise:

“When the time is right, I, the LORD, will make it happen.”
Isaiah 60:22 NLT

I love those words.

When the time is right.

Not when I understand it.

Not when I demand it.

Not when everyone else’s timeline says it should happen.

When God’s time is right.

There are moments throughout Scripture when years of waiting suddenly collided with God’s appointed moment.

Abraham and Sarah waited.

Hannah waited.

Elizabeth and Zechariah waited.

Joseph waited.

David waited.

Israel waited.

Then something changed.

What had seemed delayed suddenly arrived.

That is why I refuse to assume that today’s circumstances are the final chapter.

Sometimes God does something sooner than expected.

Sometimes He does something differently than expected.

Sometimes His answer unfolds in ways we could never have anticipated.

Faith leaves room for all three.

“He Settles the Childless Woman in Her Home”

There is another passage that feels especially tender when thinking about couples walking through infertility.

Psalm 113:9 says:

“He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the LORD.”

What a beautiful picture.

Some translations describe her as a joyful mother of children.

I would never use that verse as a formula that guarantees every woman struggling with infertility will eventually conceive. Scripture is not something we use to force God into our preferred outcome.

But I absolutely believe it reveals something about the heart of God.

He sees the woman longing to be a mother.

He sees the husband trying to remain strong while quietly carrying his own grief.

He sees the couple sitting in another doctor’s office.

He sees the pregnancy tests.

He sees the ultrasound room.

He sees the tears nobody else sees.

He sees the nursery that was imagined.

He knows every name that was considered.

And He sees the children who were loved before anyone else even knew they existed.

The God of Psalm 113 is the God who enters barren places and brings hope.

Stand on the Promises While You Wait

When circumstances are uncertain, we need something stronger than circumstances to stand upon.

Stand on Psalm 34:18:

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted.”

Stand on Psalm 147:3:

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Stand on Isaiah 41:10:

“Do not fear, for I am with you.”

Stand on Jeremiah 29:11:

God knows the plans He has for you, plans filled with hope and a future.

Stand on Romans 8:28:

God is working in all things for the good of those who love Him.

Stand on Psalm 27:14:

“Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart.”

Stand on Habakkuk 2:3:

Though the vision seems delayed, wait for it. God’s appointed time will come.

Stand on Lamentations 3:22-23:

His mercies are new every morning.

Stand on Proverbs 3:5-6:

Trust Him even when you cannot understand the path.

Stand on Philippians 4:6-7:

His peace can guard your heart and mind even before your circumstances change.

Stand on Romans 15:13:

The God of hope can fill you with joy and peace as you trust Him.

Stand on Psalm 126:5:

“Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.”

Stand on Joel 2:25:

God is able to redeem years that feel stolen.

Stand on Ephesians 3:20:

God is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine.

Stand on Hebrews 10:23:

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

And when you do not know what else to stand on, stand on this:

God is still good.

What Comes Next?

So, what comes next after a third miscarriage?

Grief comes next.

Healing comes next.

Some difficult days probably come next.

There may be doctors, tests, decisions, conversations, tears, and questions.

There may also be laughter again.

There will be grace.

There will be new mercies.

There will be moments when breathing does not hurt quite as much.

There will be days when hope begins quietly returning.

And somewhere beyond what we can currently see, God is still writing.

Maybe the next chapter arrives sooner than expected.

Maybe God opens a door nobody has considered.

Maybe the answer looks different from everything that has been imagined.

I do not know.

But this I know:

Three miscarriages do not mean three forgotten children.

Heaven knows them.

God knows them.

Their lives matter.

Their parents’ grief matters.

And because Jesus defeated death, their story did not end when their tiny hearts stopped beating.

For the couple reading this after miscarriage, infertility, failed treatments, or years of unanswered prayers, please hear me:

Do not allow yesterday’s disappointment to write tomorrow’s conclusion.

You are allowed to grieve.

You are allowed to ask questions.

You are allowed to have days when hope feels difficult.

But do not surrender your future to your pain.

Keep praying.

Keep believing.

Keep loving.

Keep living.

Keep trusting the God who sees farther than you can see.

You may not know what comes next, but you know Who is already there.

And sometimes the chapter we thought would never arrive comes sooner than expected.

Prayer:

Father, I pray today for my best friend and his wife, and for every man and woman carrying the heartbreak of miscarriage, infertility, or a dream that seems painfully delayed. Hold them close when words are insufficient. Remind them that You are near to the brokenhearted and that every tear matters to You.

Lord, thank You for the three precious children whose earthly lives were brief but whose existence is eternal. Thank You that they are known by You, loved by You, and safe in the presence of their Heavenly Father. Give their parents the hope of resurrection and reunion through Jesus Christ.

Guard their minds from believing that disappointment determines their destiny. Replace fear with faith, despair with hope, and condemnation with the assurance of Your love. Remind them that they are Your workmanship and that pain has not canceled Your purpose for their lives.

Father, we also bring the desire for children before You. You know that longing more deeply than anyone. We remember the words of Psalm 113, that You are the God who sees the childless woman and brings joy into barren places. We ask boldly for Your favor, Your provision, Your healing, Your direction, and Your perfect will.

Give wisdom to doctors. Give strength to marriages. Give peace during waiting. Give courage for whatever decisions lie ahead.

And when the waiting becomes exhausting, remind them that delay does not mean abandonment. You are still working when we cannot see You.

We trust You with what has happened.

We trust You with what is happening.

And somehow, by faith, we choose to trust You with what comes next.

May the next chapter reveal Your goodness in ways greater than anything we could currently imagine, and may hope rise again, perhaps even sooner than expected.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.