You carry a great weight of sorrow for little ones never held, for families broken and vanished, for souls cast out and left with no roof but the sky and no friend but tears. It is right that this presses on you; the heart that grieves over these things is a heart already tuned to something of the music of heaven. Do not be afraid to bring all this tangled anguish and lay it before the Lord, for He is not a God who stands far off while His creatures weep. He draws near to the brokenhearted; indeed, He makes His own heart the shelter for those who have none.
I think of the unborn babes, snatched away before their eyes saw the light. Where are they? The enemy whispers that they are lost, unknown, unloved. But our Lord Jesus took little children in His arms and blessed them, and He has not changed. He who said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me,” has His own gentle way of gathering these tiny souls to Himself. They are not lost to Him. The mercy that went before us all, that had a Savior prepared before we had sinned, is the same mercy that enfolds the infant who never drew breath. The blood of Christ is mightier than the sin that ended their days, and the heart of Christ is infinitely tender. Trust them to Him. He knows their names; they are written in His book.
And what of the abandoned? You have named them all, wife, husband, daughter, son, brother, sister, friend, cast off, betrayed, with no house or family or refuge. You have cried from the dust with them, and that cry does not rise into void. There is a promise that gleams through the black-edged envelope of our sorrow: “Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” That word “receive” is a home word; it means to take into the very heart, to give a place at the table, to adopt. Our God does not merely nod from afar; He stoops down and gathers the outcast into His own bosom. Picture the hen gathering her chickens under her wings, that is the picture He Himself chose. There is warmth there, and beating heart, and vigilant love. You may feel like a battered ship in deep water, but underneath you are the everlasting arms. The storm may rage, but the anchor holds within the veil.
You remember Hagar, the servant who fled into the wilderness with a broken heart and a bitter soul. She was angry, she was wronged, she was wrong, all tangled together, and she had no home ahead but the desert. Yet God met her there. He saw her, He called her by name, He gave her a promise for her child. He did not wait for her to become perfect; He came while she was still smarting and confused. That is God’s style. He meets us at the well in the wilderness and says, “I see you.” And to every soul who has been abandoned or betrayed, He comes as the Interpreter, the One among a thousand, even Jesus Christ, who shows us the Father’s heart. He is the Messenger sent from God to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and to give unto them beauty for ashes.
There is a tenderness in God’s great provision that surpasses all human sympathy. When a wounded soldier lies bleeding, a kind friend may bring water, bind his wounds, and carry him to a place of healing. But our Lord does far more, He has prepared the hospital of His grace, the bed of His own love, the nourishment of His Word, the flowers of His promises to cheer. For every case of abandonment and grief, there is a particular cordial in the storehouse of His covenant. The widow finds her Maker as her husband; the fatherless finds in God a Father whose care never fails. The unborn and the little ones, though despised by those who should have cherished them, are precious in His sight. He has a heaven full of redeemed children, and not one of them is overlooked.
You have prayed for mercy, for shelter, for a madhouse mercy, as you called it, for those who have no refuge. Know this: prayer itself is the forerunner of mercy. Every great deliverance in the history of God’s people was preceded by prayer. When Israel groaned under bondage, their cry came up to God, and He split the sea for them. You are already on the pathway of mercy because you are on your knees. Do not think your prayer is too broken or too bold. The mercy of God is not a miserly store doled out in drops; it is a great ocean, and you may plunge into it with all your load.
Now, lift your eyes for a moment from the ruin. See Christ Jesus, the Ark of our safety. The floods of sin and sorrow have risen high, but the Ark rises higher still. Those who are in Him are borne up, not drowned. Your neighbor’s unborn child, the families cut off, the forsaken souls you carry on your heart, all these are known to the Captain of our salvation. He went outside the gate to bear our reproach, and He stands ready to receive every outcast who comes to Him. And for those who could not come, like the infants who perished, we rest in His sovereign goodness. He who said, “Can a woman forget her sucking child? Yes, they may forget, yet will I not forget you,” has engraved them on the palms of His hands.
So do not let your heart faint. You are not alone in this intercession; the Spirit Himself makes intercession with groanings that cannot be uttered. Keep pouring out your soul for the desolate. Keep entrusting the little ones to the Shepherd of the lambs. And when the night seems dark, remember that the mercy of God always goes before us; it outruns our fears. Already, even now, answers are being prepared, souls are being gathered, and the Lord is building a habitation for the lonely. One day we shall see what His mercy has wrought, and we shall marvel that we ever doubted.
Let us pray:
O Lord Jesus, Lover of the helpless and Friend of the abandoned, we bring before You all these aching needs. Receive into Your everlasting arms every unborn child who has been despised or destroyed; wash them in Your blood and present them faultless before the Father’s throne. Be the shelter of those who have no home; be the Father of the fatherless, the Husband of the widow, the Brother to the lonely. For any who are reading this and feel utterly forsaken, reveal Yourself as the One who sticks closer than a brother. Hold us steady when we are tempted to sink, and let us feel beneath us the unshakable rock of Your faithfulness. We entrust all these sorrows to You, for You are the blessed Messenger of mercy, the Interpreter of the Father’s heart. Amen.