https://assets-cdn2.dropwave.io/086174f0-efbe-400f-a3e9-b91549a26ab7/media/Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memorial Service AD 2026.mp3

https://app.dropwave.io/show/our-savior-lynchburg/pregnancy-and-infant-loss-memorial-service-ad-2026

++ JESU JUVA ++

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Dearly Beloved, God has not forgotten you or your little ones.  We know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). But we still mourn. We still ask why. God did not create us to die. No one is supposed to die. Children shouldn’t die. They shouldn't die before they are born. They shouldn't die at all. But the fact that they do — the fact that anyone dies — is a reminder to us that this world is under the slavery of sin.

So we not only mourn this day for those we have lost, we mourn especially for our own sins — our actions, our failures, our inability to love our children as we ought. Not that this loss should be received as God’s punishment for our sin. But that we live in a world where death comes to all sinners. Where all of us who sin by thought, by word, by deed — we die. Where death comes to us all who are descended from our father Adam. Where all people have sinful hearts from the time of our conception.

Therefore, the death of these little ones — just like every death — preaches the need for a Savior. A Savior who will take the place of us sinners. The Savior that you have. Even as we live in the midst of death, Jesus Christ is our Savior from death. In this vale of tears, we still have death. These losses bring us pain. This pain will only be fully removed when sin and its wages are no more. Until then, we mourn those who are not with us — who are not as we are.

Yet how odd that is. We poor sinners — suffering under the weight of sin and its mortal effects — mourn these little ones. But they, absent from the body and present with Christ Himself, rejoice.  Why is it that we mourn them, when they are at peace? Should it not be the other way around? Should it not be that we should be the object of mourning — we who remain under the dark cloud and heavy veil of death? And even more: how strange it is to know that our little ones are at peace, and all is well with them, but we are yet full of sorrow. Even though these children didn’t know life in this world, God has brought them into a better world. Even so, we mourn because we are separated from them for a time.

King David knew this pain. His son died seven days after birth, the day before he’d have been circumcised and named. It’s the Old Testament equivalent of dying right before baptism. As he mourned his baby’s death, David said: “While the child was alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, ‘Who can tell whether the LORD will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me” (2 Samuel 12:22-23).

David found hope and comfort, just as you do, by confessing his trust in God’s mercy. We would like to have them with us, but we also anticipate the day, as David did, when we will be reunited with them. So do not mourn as those without hope. Mourning these little ones is a good work — an indication of your love for the loved ones not with you today.

We see this example also in our Lord Jesus. Even when He knew He would raise Lazarus from the grave, He wept. Because God knows this pain, you need not hide it. And Saint Paul bids us to weep with those who weep. This is a great Christian service to all who sorrow.

But even as we weep, we must also recognize that those for whom we weep are safely in the care and keeping of our dear Father in heaven. For those littlest ones, we may not even know whether they are sons or daughters. But our Lord knows. He knows everything about them, even if they yet have no hairs on their head to number.

That they are safe with Him is indeed good and comforting news. But it’s also a blow against my pride. For I am forced to admit that I’m not the one who gives all good to my children; God is. And I must continually learn — and relearn — to become as a little child before Him. To see that I live by faith alone, by the mercies of God alone. That by the death of these little ones, God is putting to death my pride. God graciously gives, and I am not to love the gift more than the Gift-Giver. I have received nothing from God by my own merit or worthiness, but everything depends upon the forgiveness of my sins in Christ.

According to the usual course of things, it seems that children belong to parents and to their families. “My son,” “my daughter,” “my brother,” “my sister,” “my baby.” But before we can speak of them as belonging to us, we must first speak of children as belong to God. He has created them. Yes, He used you parents to create children — and what a marvelous gift to participate in our Lord’s work of creation! But those children created by God through the marital union — those children are not ultimately yours. You and I do not create life; God does. God gives life and makes it holy. These little ones belong to God, so it is His right to give or to take as He sees fit.

The Lord gives children to parents, not primarily for the benefit of parents — although there is certainly a great benefit to us! But the Lord gives children to parents so that we can raise those them in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Jesus says that little ones belong to Him. That’s why we seek to Baptize them — to give them back to God. To save them from the original sin they have inherited from their human fathers, and from the actual sins they have committed since. Jesus invites little children to come to Him because all little children belong to Him. God the Father is their Creator. He has created them so He can also be their Father.

But these children had no opportunity to be Baptized. We don’t know why. God’s judgment is hidden from us. Where God has not told us what He does, we rest on what He has told us. Little babies are utterly passive. Just like the elderly at the end of their lives, little babies have no reason and can’t really understand words. That’s what Jesus means when He says, “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Their reason and will can put up no resistance to Jesus.

But God doesn’t tell us exactly how infants are given faith. Even though babies can’t really understand the words, the Bible gives examples of them receiving faith or responding in faith while still in the womb, in response to a spoken Word. We see Jesus imparting blessing and the kingdom of God to babies through His Word and His touch.

He gives them to us for a time, and then, when their life in this world is over, He intends to receive them unto Himself. So we must be confident that God is not angry with us. God Himself sends us these trials to strengthen our faith in Him. If the good Lord has led you, like precious gold, through this Refiner’s fire, you must be very precious to Him indeed. For God has permitted this calamity to befall you that you might turn to Him for comfort.

To endure this grief is to wear a crown of martyrdom. God has caused you to sacrifice your child. He has made you to be like Abraham of old. And you confess with Abraham that God is also able to raise up your children. And even as you feel your child's sickness in your own flesh and become as though unwell yourself, so also do you feel and bear their death as though it is your own. In this way also, you reflect Christ.

They lived for a very short time here. But a short life doesn’t mean it was in vain. Carrying a child in the womb even for a few weeks is not a waste. Yes, the life was short, but it was life given by God — and that’s what makes it valuable. Your baby is also God’s baby. Jesus loves these children — even more profoundly and deeply than we do. Yet, even now, in the midst of darkness and the sadness of the crosses we bear, He has brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.