Part VII: The Bottom Line

I hate the phrase "the bottom line." It's cliched and overdone. And like most cliched, overdone lines, it's an easy shorthand to say what I want to. All of which has nothing to do with the actual post. Now for our feature presentation.

When I wrote my original post, I didn't expect to continue it in a blog-length ramble of thoughts. I'm glad I did it, though. Whether or not it's been helpful for all of you reading, the act of organizing my thoughts, putting them up for public review, and then taking in your thoughtful comments has clarified my thinking.

My conclusion is one of those really annoying ones that don't actually follow the question. (Jesus' favorite kind of answer, incidentally.) The question, if you recall, was "Can I, as a Christian desiring to honor and obey God, ever decide that I am done having children?"

The answer that I'm hearing after all these weeks (months, actually, since my last baby's birth) is: "Know God better."

It isn't a matter of figuring out the right thing to do, and doing it. I've lived much of my life trying to do that, and God always frustrates my attempt. This dilemma is more an opportunity for me to sit with God and talk over all these thoughts -- over and over and over -- and learn Who He is. Maybe He'll give me an answer one day, but I don't think He's really all that interested in knowing how well I score on my final exam. He'd rather I just get to know Him better.

I think He does let us make our own decisions, but we should always be willing to change if that's what He wants us to do. In other words, I can give away all my baby stuff in a year or two, but should be willing to go carseat shopping again if I need to.

I do feel more comfortable saying that I don't want to have any more children. I see more clearly how much of the Quiverfull philosophy is based on random Bible verses (including poetry) and underlying assumptions. I also realize that God hasn't patted me on the back and said, "Yes, I see your point. Okay, we'll work together, and you can be sure that you won't have any more children."

But I do think He has touched my hand and said, "I hear you. Come and know Me better."

-- SJ

Part V: Personal Choice

"Whether you have more children is between you, your husband, and God."

This statement makes me nervous.*

It seems too pat, too easy to say that the solution to this whole family-size debate is simply personal choice guided by the Holy Spirit. That could be used as an excuse for a whole lot of things. The Bible doesn't directly address family size or birth control, but neither does it directly address abortion, living together unmarried, using drugs, homeschooling, and whether to buy underwear at Victoria's Secret. How do you decide what is personal choice and what is Christian doctrine?

It would be nice if you really could find an answer to each and every question in the Bible. However, the Bible wasn't written to individuals, but to churches, cities, and nations. Taken in that light, it does seem to leave a lot up to personal choice.

In all honesty, I hate it when God leaves things up to personal choice. Too much leeway disturbs me. How do you know if you're right and they're wrong if God didn't lay it out for everybody to see it the same way? I admit this isn't a healthy way to think, but it's part and parcel with my struggles in the area of family size. I gravitate to the teachers who say that God did lay out definite rules for everything. I want to believe the Personal Choice camp, but feel safer in the RuleKeepers Camp.

The answer must lie somewhere in the middle. Obviously your own family is your own concern. But Christians are all part of the Body of Christ, so how and what we decide affects others. That's why it's difficult for me to come to a conclusion and state it confidently. I don't want to make myself unhappy needlessly. But I don't want to abuse God's grace by declaring that whatever I want to do is between God and me, and no one has the right or authority to question me.

A side note: Churches should have the authority to question why Christians do what they do. I've known churches who do that, and the people there were spiritually healthy. By and large, though, our churches are so splintered that there's not much of an authoritative voice in any matter beyond the Ten Commandments. I think this situation leaves far too much up to "personal choice." But then, I would think that, wouldn't I?

* Partly because I always change that sentence to "among" instead of "between," then decide that you and your husband are one entity and God is the other, so there are only two parties, so "between" is correct after all.

Part III: Regretfully Obedient

It seems like it's easier to "be done" if I could say it regretfully.

"I gave away all our baby stuff and I'm happy with our family, but you know, I don't think I'll ever stop wanting another baby."

"I wanted more children, but with my health the way it is, I decided not to risk it."

"The doctor recommended that because of the scar tissue after the last surgery, I avoid pregnancy again. I look at all those baby clothes in the stores and just sigh."

If I could sound regretful, I could imply that I've bent to God's will despite my own desires. But what if I don't feel regretful? What if I look at the baby toys in the house and think, "Almost done with these, finally!" What if I pack a diaper bag with a bottle, yogurt, spoon, bib, toys, extra outfit, and diapers just to go to church, and tell myself, "Just another year or so and I won't have to do this again!"

I don't really even have any complicating circumstances. Our finances are sufficient; my health is great; my pregnancies are so good I could market them; I'm still young; all my children are very healthy. I have had three c-sections, yes; but I've healed up well from each one, so there's no grave risk in having more.

If I'm satisfied with only four children... does God's Will ever coincide so neatly with My Will?

Yes, it does. It must. I certainly wasn't regretful when I married Darren, and I have no question about whether God led us together. On the other hand, it's pretty easy to decide what I want and then assume that God agrees with me. And the theology I grew up with says that God will let you do whatever you want until you get yourself into a big mess. Or, alternatively, He'll orchestrate events to "get your attention," like the woman I once heard who said that their daughter died in a house fire because "God wanted to get our attention."

With a God like that hovering above you, it's risky to decide that your desires fit in with His will. Best if you do the opposite of what you want to do, because then you can at least be sure you're not following your selfish desires.

Over the past several years, I've slowly come to a different understanding of God and how He works. He doesn't force our obedience with fear, but He also rarely lets His children persist in selfishness. The desires we cherish are often planted by Him in the first place. As someone in the comments mentioned, the real test doesn't seem to be "What do I want?" but "How do go about I getting it?"

What do I want? I want to be done with babies. I want my family to be complete so I can mentally move on. I want my mothering to have a definite end in sight. How will I get these things? If I don't have any more children. Is that God's Will as well as mine? I suppose that remains to be seen.

-- SJ