Swirling Brain, Adoption Heart

As we get within hopefully a couple months of meeting our boy, there's a lot swirling in my brain. I've been asked a lot of questions by family, friends, and even strangers. I've been reading a lot about other's adoption journeys and see the things they are being asked. There are two lines of questioning that really stick out to me as most common:

1. Why aren't you adopting locally (city, state, nationally)?

2. Isn't it just so great that you are rescuing (saving, buying) this baby no one wanted?

And both of these questions, or related ones to them, leave me dumbfounded. So much so that I often think of a good response hours or even days later. So, here are my thoughts:

Simply put, we are adopting from China because our son was born in China. We didn't make a value judgment and decide that Chinese children are more desirable, needy, or deserving than American children. Every child needs a loving family to be a part of. We didn't go with the easiest, or least expensive way to adopt. Any way that a child comes to your family is a labor of love. We didn't decide to only consider a child with special needs, or a boy. We left ourselves open to many options when we started on this road again. We don't think international adoption is better or worse than domestic adoption. Each has their own risks and benefits.

We looked at the file of one little boy, and knew in our hearts he wasn't just a boy, but rather he was our boy. And we started running as hard and fast as we could to get him home.

If someday another child joins our family through birth or adoption, they will honor us with their life through any way God sees fit to bring them home.

Our David is so wanted by us. He is not an unwanted child. He is a boy who has a Momma, Daddy, and brother who want so desperately for him to come home that it physically hurts sometimes. He has family and friends praying for him every day, wanting him in their lives. 

Further, he possibly was wanted by his First Mama, but she was unable to remain his parent. We don't know what led to him becoming an orphan: poverty, illness (his or hers), death. Whatever the reasons, they are tragic, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he wasn't wanted by her. 

I don't really think we are rescuing or saving him. I think that was done by the strangers who found him and told the authorities. In his almost 4 years of life, countless people have nurtured him, provided medical care to him, taught him, loved him, laughed with him, and maybe even cried with him. They walked with him through surgery and recovery. They helped him grow into the sweet, independent boy that he is.

And let's be clear, we are not buying a child. That's human trafficking. It is evil. No one has the right to own another human being.

We are paying governmental and private entities in both the United States and China, for the processing of paperwork, verification that we are safe people, training to become better parents, and care of our child. There are a lot of people to talk to, a lot of papers to process, a lot of steps to take, each one with a fee attached and a reason for existing. It's not a scam, although those do exist. It's not shady, although sometimes it's confusing and cultural differences can make it hard. It's not easy, and it shouldn't be. I'm thankful for every frustrating step of this process because it makes me so much more sure that other kiddos are being kept as safe as possible from people who might have nefarious intentions.

I know that I have asked some silly questions of adoptive families, and said some pretty asanine things. But I've grown a lot, mostly by hearing other's hearts. So here is my heart, and my swirly brain, all written down, to help other's grow in understanding the "why?" You're welcome on this journey with us, we can't do it alone. 

Operation Bring David Home

So much in my world has changed in the year and half since my last post. I've given birth to a beautiful baby boy. It was a hard 60 hours of fighting to bring him into the world, but so worth every second. Sweet Rees is wild, adventurous and fearless (except about vacuums, those are terrifying.) He's also super snuggly, and friendly, gives everyone hugs and cries when he has to leave anyone. He plays hard and loves big. He is sunshine and a tornado, at the same time, all the time.

And now we're in process of adopting David from China. What?! Adopting? Didn't we already try that once? Don't we have a baby so we don't have to adopt anymore? Oh my, the crazy questions we have fielded since we told the world we were running hard after our son who just so happens to be on the other side of the world. So here is the story of adoption in our family:

We talked about adopting before we were even married. We wanted bio kids, but we also thought it would be awesome to have adopted kids too. We agreed that local adoption was the way to go. We had our family plan all worked out. So a mere two months after we go married we started trying to get pregnant. 6 years later is when God finally brought our miracle boy into my womb. 6 years of hope, disappointment, questioning, and learning much about the goodness and graciousness of God.

In the midst of that we were asked to consider adopting a beautiful 12 year old girl. We said yes! It started as "get your house ready, she'll be home in less than a week." Then it became "her extended birth family has taken her away, she's in danger." Then later "are you still interested? We know she's almost 14 now, but we can get her home soon." Finally there was the fateful "we wish there was more we could have done." Her birthday is 2 days before our wedding anniversary, and my grief comes right up to the surface for days/weeks before and after. She was mine for a time. She is God's always.

I thought that was it. I was done discussing adoption. My heart hurt too much, I couldn't even dream of going through that again.

Then I was subpoenaed. A student had confided in me, I had fought for her to be protected and years later was required to give account of what I knew. I sat in the waiting room with kids who may not have had one safe person in their world. I came home to my boy in the arms of a dear friend who had spent the entire time I was gone praying for my son and snuggling him. That night I told J I was ready to talk about adopting again. We have a whole community of safe people in our son's life. We have so many people who have wept and rejoiced with us on this journey and love our son not just because of who he is but because of all that he represent in being our first born. There are millions of kids who need one safe person, we have safe people in spades! J looked at me with the sweetest smile and said, "I've been waiting for you to come back around!" What patient, long-suffering love.

Then a few months later I saw a boy on Show Hope's Facebook page. He was beautiful. Three months younger than Rees. I loved him instantly. For a week I said nothing. Then I showed his story to J. And he loved him too. We contacted Show Hope, who suggested we contact an adoption agency they have contact with. We added our names to his "interest list." We went on a date to fill out a "medical conditions checklist," which was us looking up medical conditions we had never heard of, for hours on end, and then deciding if we felt equipped to provide a good home to a child with said medical conditions. Most emotional date ever. We told them that we were willing to wait to hear about this boy. His file hadn't been received from China yet, and we were ok with taking it slow and waiting to see what happened.

And then a job change became available for J. It was a better choice long term for him physically, but a difficult adjustment for us as it meant less income. I decided it wasn't a good time to pursue adoption. We just needed to take ourselves off of that boy's list. But I was sleep deprived, and life got busy, and God had other plans, so never actually did it.

Then the call came. I assumed it was family from Colorado calling, but it was the voice of a kind woman I had never spoken to before. She wanted to know if we would consider adopting an amazing 3 year old boy. I wanted to say that we had other plans, but what came out of my mouth was a request for more information, pictures, his story.  Once we looked at what they sent us, and did some research on his medical needs, we requested updated information. And while we waited for a response, we both individually came to the same realization, we knew he was ours. 

But he wasn't local. We had had an opportunity to adopt some "local" kids and we just knew we had to say no. And this would mess up birth order.  We had it all planned out with this other boy who was younger than Rees, but not by much. And we don't have the money for a quick Starbucks once a month, how on earth could we pay agency fees, and orphanage fees, and home study fees, etc.?

God's ways are not our ways. God's thoughts are not our thoughts.

We have until January to get our dossier to China. My personal goal is November.  I want him to have the best chance at not having another birthday away from his family. I want my boy home. Rees needs an older brother. I need an older son. And we all hope that by some great miracle a younger brother can some day come home too. We have not forgotten the boy who stole our hearts with a smile and started us back on this crazy journey.

And we wait, and fight hard, and run after our David. He is ours. And he is so worth every second.

Enough

Two days ago we had an inevitable meeting with our adoption agency. Inevitable in that we spent months praying that this was not the meeting we were going to have. Inevitable in that the lady we met with seemed to have already reached the same conclusion we had, but just wasn't interested in making the first move. This meeting marked the end of our adoption process for our daughter.

We got an email several months ago that should have told us to just give up, run for the hills, stop hoping. Yet, we decided to not make any hasty decisions, to pray before leaping, to let our tempers settle. We waited. And prayed. And knew in our hearts that it was time to walk away. The hanging on of hope was just crushing our hearts. We are broken, and angry, and becoming more so every day. Our daughter has slipped through our hands and we are looking into the abyss hoping we can reach her and pull her back. It is time to stop grasping at the whistling wind of false hope.

Finality lingers in my empty hands.

I keep finding myself standing somewhere, staring into nothing. I'm emptying the dishwasher, then just stop, like someone hit pause on my life, and then eventually I blink and have to look around to remind myself what I was doing. I have no idea how long I stand frozen in time, I'm just lost for a time, then I come back to reality.

There is a depth of loss in my heart that is inexpressible. Sometimes it is just a still pool within me that I avoid looking at because seeing the aching of my soul reflected in it is too much to bear. Sometimes it is tsunami waves covering me with no hope of making the surface before I drown.

I know that my anchor is the hope, the truth, that God is faithful. I know that just as I feel the depths covering me over that he brings me once again to the surface with his breath of life. I know that as my heart starts to harden to stone, he warms it with the light of his truth to get it moving again. I know that my standing before him doesn't change, even when I'm broken on the floor crying.

Questions sit in corners, waiting to be addressed. We stare each other down and agree to let things rest for now. I can't think about the future, I'm having a hard enough time remembering to shower, or eat, or kiss my husband.

Oh my sweet husband. The strongest, kindest man I've ever known, weeping in my arms. As much as my heart aches, it aches so much more because his heart aches. If I could, I would bear the weight of grief for both of us, just so I would never have to clear tears from his perfect face again. I know I couldn't make it through this alone, but I also know I couldn't do this with anyone else. My heart is so intertwined with his that words don't even need to be said. I see the tears quiver on the edge of his eyelashes and I know it all.

And then I am reminded that God loves me infinitely more than all of that. And he is near, indwellingly near, to my broken heart. And that is enough.

LOVE

We got a call about a month ago that sent our emotions reeling. Our daughter is alive, safe, and there is again potential for her to come home. All we had to do is say "yes." And even though I know that she is still my daughter, I was scared. I feel like we've been on a roller coaster for over a year, and I just didn't know if my heart could take one more major climb with the potential for another major drop. I was afraid to hope.

But I know that she is mine. Is there potential to have our hearts broken further? Yep. Even if she does come home there is no promise of reciprocated love. There isn't even a promise that she will be stable enough for us to be able to provide the best care for her. She could be a huge ball of emotion, and hurt, and fear, and regression, and chaos. But I look at her picture and my heart aches with love that is overwhelmingly inexpressible. She is mine. I love her. I may be scared of what me loving her looks like, but that doesn't make my love for her go away.

With shaking hearts and quiet voices we said that we were in. With good reason, people tried to talk us out of this. But she is ours, whatever the cost of comfort, reputation, heartache, security, peace. She is ours, forever and ever.

Then a month passed with conflicting impressions of what we should do. And communication is spotty at best. And we live attached to our phones and computers, waiting to hear anything. Expecting to travel any day. Hoping to travel before her birthday. Knowing it was becoming less likely with each day that ticked by. I try not to be angry with my husband when he looks practically at things and tells me it's a pretty slim chance that we will have her home before her 14th birthday.

Hope feels foolish. It's stepping out into a cloud filled sky trusting that a thin piece of fabric and a couple cords will keep you from being destroyed by gravity.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick... - Prov 13:12

My heart is sick from hoping. I hope that she will come home soon. I hope for a call that it's time to make travel plans. I hope for favor with random bureaucrats who have the ability to tell us we aren't her parents. I hope that decision isn't made arbitrarily. I hope for her heart to be healed. I hope for the chance to be a good mom. I hope to some day tell her how much my heart has ached for her. I hope for a day when she will know I am her momma just as surely as I know she is my baby.

On the good days, my faith is shaky. I know all the right answers, but I hurt, and I doubt, and waves of fear threaten to cover me completely. I know that I love her, not because I chose to but because that's what God made me for. I know that I hope for her to come home not because it's easy, but because God made my heart for this. I now know why God made me with this intense, insane love that just splashes out uncontrollably sometimes. How else could I look at a picture of a beautiful girl and know that she is mine and love her with every ounce of my heart? I know now why I hope for extraordinary, impossible things that others think are foolish. How else could I hope for my daughter to come home with just the slightest bit of shift in that direction? Even as I want to give up on this impossible dream, I cry out for more hope for a miracle. I beg for more faith that God is working out his plan, to give me a future AND hope.

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. - 1 Corinthians 13:13

It's a Psalm 23 Kind of Day

Grief is a hard thing to define. If you've never experienced it you don't get it. People around you grieve at the loss of a loved one, or are broken over infertility, or their marriage has ended: you name it, people are grieving. But if you have never had the aching of your soul as a result of loss you will never get it. You may think that people need to move on. You may be concerned that they have severe mental illness. You may even think that quoting Bible verses (out of context and not from experience) is the answer because then at least you're saying something, and it's from the Bible so it must be good.

Grief can look a lot like depression, anger, anxiety, selfishness, bitterness. And it can turn into those things and more if it's avoided. It is a place of great loneliness, longing for something you will never have. It is a wilderness that tests your faith, that changes the facets of your soul, that adds depth to everything you thought you knew, and takes away a lot of your preconceived notions. It can at times feel like a vast emptiness, and at other times leave you so full of emotion that you are without words to express the weight of your heart. It comes gushing forth, often at inconvenient or embarrassing times. It can lie dormant for a long time, just waiting for your guard to be down so that it can pounce again on the rubble of your heart.

Everything in me cries out, "This is not how it's supposed to be!" While sometimes it feels like the cry of a petulant child seeking a selfish sense of justice, it often is from a heart that knows it was not made to deal with this. I don't know how to deal with the loss of my daughter. Nothing in my previous experience prepared me for loving a child I have never met. Nothing on Earth can explain why my heart chose to love this specific child; why she is ever with me. It doesn't make sense! I know in my heart that she is mine, yet there is no moment in time when I can say, "That's it! That's when she became mine. That's when I knew." She has always been mine, and will always be, even though she may never know it.

But it's exhausting to deal with a broken heart. There is a deep weariness of soul that comes with grief. Most days I get out of bed and trudge through the waist-deep mud of heartache as if it's normal. Some days it is neck-deep or higher and there is a sense of heart drowning. These are the days when I desperately cry out to God for mercy. Come save me! Rescue me from this deep ocean of brokenness!

And God is ever faithful. He brings the healing salve of his Word to my wounded soul. He gives my husband the words to speak life in the desert. He causes others to carry the burden for a while so that I can rest. He reminds me to take refuge in him, to trust him, to let him lead me as the Good Shepherd of my wandering heart. He is always kind, and gentle with the broken pieces of my heart.

May there be a day when I can proclaim with the Psalmist - Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Oh sweet Lord, let it be so!

9 Months

In adoption terms, 9 months is not that long. In waiting for a child to join your family, it seems to be absolutely normal. In waiting for your heart to be fully broken, it's a lifetime.

We jumped into this adoption 9 months ago with naive notions about ourselves, about adoption, about God. We were fully submerged in expectation and paperwork and prayerful pursuit of our daughter from day one. It was not a gradual easing into the joy of a child, it was thrown in the deep end, all out, crazy love for the piece of our hearts we didn't even know was missing until we saw her sweet face. It was like we got a positive pregnancy test and decorated the nursery all in one weekend and then had another 9 months to await the arrival of our bundle of joy.

And now we will most likely never hear another word about her for the rest of our lives.

We are no longer the strong and stable people we believed ourselves to be. We are broken. Our hopes and dreams are dead and we don't even get to hold her one time to say goodbye. We cry way too easily, we hide out in our home hoping no one will notice our absence, we say inappropriate things when people ask us stupid questions. We smile and serve at church and come home and melt down. We are adrift in a storm.

Adoption is hard, ugly, messy business sometimes. No one really tells you this, and even if they do, you don't believe them. You see happy families around you in all their adoptive glory and have no box to fit people with broken hearts into. It's just beautiful, wonderful redemptive work. It's one of God's pictures, like marriage, and that automatically makes it amazing. But it is also the melding of broken lives together. Even when children join their forever families it is not sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows all day long. Just as marriage is harder than anyone could ever tell you, and soon to be married couples wouldn't listen anyway, adoption is harder than imaginable. And things break down. And adoptions sometimes fail. And there are more orphans in the world than anyone is capable of fathoming, so it seems absolutely unjust for adoptions to fail. A child needing a family, and a family needing a child, and yet bureaucracy, and culture, and sinful people get in the way of that perfect match.

And God is not in the business of making his people comfortable, happy, or fitting in with the people around them. God is in the business of conforming his people into the image of his Son. And sometimes (more often than not) God uses the hard, ugly, broken things of this world to break off our self-sufficiency, pride, and idolatry. He is not mean and vindictive. He is kind enough not to let us wallow in the slums of our ignorance and selfishness. He is working in our lives the good of sanctification by the heat and pressure of broken circumstances. He is holy God, the vestiges of my Adam-likeness are burned away in the heat of his glory. But burning hurts. It is difficult to cry out "my refuge, my fortress, my God, I trust you" while my entire self is a burning effigy of sin.

I spent 9 months waiting for my daughter to come home, but forgot often to pray that my heart would happily accept God's will. Now I struggle with bitterness. I spent 9 months being so productive because my home needed to be ready at any moment. Now I struggle with laziness. I spent 9 months sharing my heart with anyone who would listen. Now I have walled off my hurt so that no one will see how much I am broken by this. I spent 9 months caring about every girl who is being sold to meet the sick desires of sinful men. Now my daughter might be one of them. I spent 9 months thinking I have it all together, feeling so completely spiritual at my oblivious faith. Now I have almost nothing left.

Then out of nowhere this song wells up in my heart:

I am weak,
I am poor,
I am broken,
Lord, but I'm yours.
Hold me now!

The End

For those of you out there interested in our adoption journey but not on our email list, here is the final email.

Hello family and friends!

Thank you so much for your prayers and support through our adoption journey. It is with heavy hearts that we send this update, and it will probably be the last update we send. After months of prayer, consulting with our agency, and consulting with trusted friends who know a lot about adoption, we believe at this time that our daughter is not adoptable.

In our last official update we let you know that she had been asked to stay with her biological family as her mother is dying of cancer. We have not heard anything since then. Because we know she is with her family, our belief is that she will more than likely stay with her family. While we remain open to adopting her in the future if her situation changes, we have had to acknowledge that it is highly unlikely that we will ever hear anything again about our daughter.

Our hearts are broken at the loss of our daughter. We knew there were risks involved in pursuing this adoption, as there are in almost all adoptions, but we chose to love this girl. For us, she will always be ours in our hearts, and we will not cease to pray for her. We pray that she is safe, loved, and cared for. We pray for healing and reconciliation in her family. We pray most importantly that she will hear the gospel of Jesus Christ and come to believe in him for salvation, redemption, and spiritual adoption. Will you join us please in praying for this one precious life?

As for us, we don't know what our next step will be. We are hoping to spend some time pressing more into God, caring more for each other's hearts, and ministering always to "our kids" at church. Thank you all again for your partnerships in our journey.  Your thoughts, prayers, and kind words have been such an encouragement to us.

Love!

Danielle and JJ

Grace for purging

Back again with Marla talking about Jen Hatmaker's book 7: this week is Possessions. But before I go into what thoughts I had while reading this chapter I want to talk about Marla. Marla is a brave woman. Who else would host a read-along about such a conscience challenging book and willingly take on open and honest discussion about things that are challenging Western church culture like consumerism? And who else would do it with such grace and reckless obedience to the work God is doing in her heart? I'm convinced only my friend Marla would. I love her brave heart, I love that she doesn't think she has all the answers, and I love that she is so kind, forgiving, and apologetic when the iron sharpening iron hurts. I'm thankful she didn't give up hosting this read-along after last weeks explosion of discussion about clothes, 'cause I think this is all good stuff for the Western church to realize that consumerism is a cultural thing, not a God mandated thing. And now I'm stepping on toes...

I was just thinking the other day how cool it is to read a book about the journey God has had you on for years. I didn't realize that God was taking me through some forced fasting, I just thought he was trying to make my head explode! Every chapter so far has resonated in my heart not because Jen Hatmaker is so eloquent (although I love her writing,) and not because I feel really convicted by what is covered, but because this is confirmation that the journey my heart has been on over the last few years is good and right for me. I cried when I read about Jen speaking at a women's conference and all those ladies giving away their possessions, it reminded me of the church in the NT that Paul had to tell them to stop giving 'cause it was too much sacrifice for them. I cried in hope for those women, and in joy that God has brought me to a place where that seems good, not crazy.

When my husband and I married 4.5 years ago we combined two adult lives and households into one house. We moved into our house 6 months later and put everything in one bedroom and said we would unpack 1 box a night until that room was cleared out. 3 years after that almost every box in that room was opened, dug through because we were looking for something, and then thrown back in with more stuff piled in on top. It was floor to ceiling waste, and it just made my heart sad, but I didn't want to tackle it all by myself, and besides not all of that junk was mine. Sometimes I step back and marvel at the childish attitude I have in our marriage, it's all mine unless something has to be done about it and then it's not mine at all.

Then we started talking adoption, and quickly we started talking adoption of a particular girl. I laid awake in bed at night thinking of her sleeping on a mat on the floor while I laid in my comfy bed that I constantly complained about. I looked at labels on things I wanted to buy and often saw the name of the country she lives in. I thought of her beautiful face with sweat pouring down it while she made all of that junk that I didn't even appreciate and just piled in the room of waste. Her delicate hands struggling to get a seam just right on a shirt I wore once and didn't like how it fit so I gave it away. She is in a safe place and not doing hard labor, but many children in her country are not, and now I have a face to put to that ugliness. The daughters and sons of that country are slaves to the daughters and sons of this country, and we all turned a blind eye because we want to keep up with the proverbial Joneses more than we want to care about the quality of life of strangers on the other side of the planet.

So as we prepared our house for imminent arrival (which still has not happened 6+ months later, but at the time we thought it would be within the next few days,) we started to analyze every thing in the room of waste. We dug out every corner of our house, looked it over and decided if what we had was really worth keeping. There was urgency to the purging. We wanted nothing to stay if it would distract in any way from our loving our daughter. About half of our possessions went out the door in a weekend because we wanted our hearts and lives to be uncluttered. We wanted our daughter to walk in our house overwhelmed by love, not stuff.

She still is not home, and it's looking more and more like she will never be. So should we just start re-amassing things to fill the whole in our hearts left by the daughter who never made it home? Should we just readjust back to "normal" and forget all about the dream of loving people more than we love our comfort and happiness? Perish the thought! Even as I pray for God to work miracles to get her home, and pray for my heart to heal if she doesn't come home, I pray that God would not allow us to fall back into "normal" but would continue to conform us from glory to glory. The awareness of this precious life half a world away caused my heart to be aware of millions of precious, marginalized, forgotten lives all around me. Even if she never makes it into my arms, she is part of the legacy God is building in my heart. He is tearing down what I want my kingdom to look like, and is building a glorious messy kingdom of grace that gets all up in the brokenness of lives and sets prisoners free, heals brokenhearted, and cares about the orphan and the widow in their affliction.

I pray that God continues to tear down my waste and mess. I pray that his kingdom would come, his will would be done, on Earth, and in my heart, as it is in Heaven.

13

Yesterday you turned 13. I made you cupcakes. And I cried, A LOT.

I thought of the 13 years you have lived. I thought of the many losses you have felt. I thought of all the times you have been betrayed, abandoned, used. I thought of the fact that I don't even know the tip of the iceberg of any of these things in your life. I tried to pray for you, but there weren't even words to ask God for blessing for you. I wanted to say so many things that I couldn't say any. I don't know if you were even aware it was your birthday, and I almost hope that you weren't. I hope in my heart that you are happy, at peace. I try to pray for confidence for you, that you will join our family soon, but I'm not even sure I have this same confidence. I pray and hope and dream of what it will be like when we are together, and at the same time cry at the thought of losing you before you're ever mine.

You are mine. You will always be mine. You are a huge piece of my heart, have been since the moment we said yes. I walk in your room and expect to see you. I look at the space next to me on the couch and know that that's where you belong. As we head into winter I have added blankets to your bed, I don't want you to be cold if you come home tomorrow and I forget you need more blankets. I hug girls your age at church and know that it's nothing compared to the hug of my daughter. My daughter. My smart, compassionate, sarcastic, beautiful daughter. You are mine. I couldn't stop loving you if I tried. I have in fact tried to pretend that I don't love you, but it doesn't work. To stop loving you would be like going blind. It would be the end of life as I know it. I know that I would go on, but every breath would ache. My heart is broken by the thought of you. No one just walks away from this kind of break, it will leave a mark for the rest of my life.

So, the only option in my heart is to hope against hope that you are coming home. I put all of my eggs in this basket, and I just have to trust that it was a good idea. I know that God works all things to the good of conforming his children to the image of Christ. I know that nothing is impossible with God. I know. I KNOW. Even though all the unknown is overwhelming, I cling to what I know. I know that I love you. I know that God is good. I know that God is in control. I know that you are mine.

Rest and reassurance

During our study tonight of imprecatory Psalms, God reassured my weary heart. We read several in our Community Group as an echo to the sermon from Sunday and to lead into discussion. As I read Psalm 9 aloud, I was reduced to weeping, and my amazing husband had to come to my rescue to finish the reading.

Here are a few verses that rocked my broken heart:

Salvation belongs to the LORD; your blessings be on your people! Ps 3:8

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. Ps 4:8

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you. For you bless the righteous, O LORD; you cover him with favor as with a shield. Ps 5:11-12

I will give to the LORD the thanks due to his righteousness, and I will sing praise to the name of the Lord, the Most High. Ps 7:17

And finally the one that brought me to tears in the presence of dear friends:

The LORD is a stronghold to the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek you. Ps 9:9-10

There have been moments in the last month that it has seemed like we are surrounded on all sides by evil that is conspiring against us. We are seeking to be faithful to what God has called us to in the church, we are fighting to love our daughter who is feeling further away every day, we are struggling to honor God in our marriage as we are tempted to get lazy. We are fighting in every aspect of our lives for righteousness, justice, mercy, and yet it seems the further into the battle we get the more we realize that evil in the world is much more pervasive, numerous, and crafty than we are prepared for. Our battle, indeed is not against flesh and blood, but humans are often used as mines in the dangerous fields we tread.

And yet, salvation belongs to God. We can lie down and rest because God sustains us. We are shielded by his righteousness. He is perfectly just, in ways we could never even comprehend. Though I am shaken, God will never be shaken, his throne is firmly planted.

By the mighty hand of God, for his glory, and for the good of conforming us to the image of Christ, righteousness will prevail. My daughter will come home. Our effort to teach gospel to teenagers will produce fruit. My marriage will survive. My friends will know that I love them. My city will feel the love of God.

And I will find rest in praising the one who made me, who redeemed me, who adopted me, who loves me, who leads me, who shelters me, who sustains me.

Let the forehead smacking commence

Read-along time!

James 4 is a remarkably good one for me this week. The funny thing is, the culmination of how my week has been, and how James 4 has wrecked me, came last night. I love God's timing!

James 4:10 knocked me over this week. J and I started a new class with our HS students last Saturday. This is the first class we have ever come up with curriculum for, taught, and felt responsible for the hearts of our students who attend the class. We have become good at being supporting role people, and actually think this is what God meant for our lives when we started to think about ministry. This is not supporting role, and as a result is way far out of our comfort zones. It is also a way for me to lose sight of humility.

Several of the kids actually thanked us for the class afterward, which surprised me. Kids aren't typically good at articulating appreciation. Parents sought us out on Sunday to thank us for pouring into their kids. I sincerely said to them that it is a honor to be doing what God has made us to do. I told them how much I LOVE loving on HS students and giving away truth to them. I smiled and thanked them for their kind words. You would think that I could get puffed up by the appreciation, but in fact I found an even sneakier way of not being humble.

The guy over J and I didn't say directly to me that he appreciated our hard work, that he thought we did a good job, or that he was thankful for our partnership in the ministry. That's where my pride bristled up in all it's ugly glory. He told J all of those things, but he didn't tell me. How dare he not come to me personally and express gratitude! I know J and I often say "We are the Borg, you tell one of us and it's the same as telling both of us,"  but dang it, I want my personal recognition. I started to complain to J about this yesterday and he asked if I had checked my email. "Of course I haven't, I'm too busy for that!" He proceeds to read off emails that the guy over us sent to J and I, and then to the rest of the ministry, about how much he appreciates us and thinks we did a good job. Did I receive this well? No, I complained further. Later when I thought about it God brought James 4:10 to mind. What we were teaching was not about us, but about God. Our ministry to the youth is not for our glory but for God's. Our very breath that we use to complain is a gift from God. Is it just me and Paul or does the Romans 7:24 moment wreck any other hearts?

Here's the other kicker for the week. When filling out 10,000 pages of paperwork for our adoption there was a little question of guardianship for our children in the unfortunate event of our deaths before our kids are adults. We didn't really pray about this question. We both just looked at it, started making a list of who would not go there, for various reasons, and narrowed it down to one family. We wrote that family in, and figured we would talk with them about it later. We love and trust this family, feel like we agree on the essentials of faith, and like their parenting style. It's a no-brainer. Check! Answered that question, move on. Now I don't think this is legally binding if we write up a will and name someone else, but I don't know, but we are seriously reconsidering the answer to that question.

Looking back, we answered that question a lot in the same vein of James 4:13-17. We didn't really consider what God's will for this would be. We made our plans, without seriously considering what tomorrow could bring. This may make us sound like awful potential adoptive parents, but let me explain. When filling out seriously whole trees worth of information about your life, sometimes it gets late into the night and you answer a little too gut instinct and little less God's will. It's not an excuse, but a serious "why did we say that? Oh right it was midnight and our brains were fried." Now, I'm not even sure we're whole-heartedly reconsidering, but we definitely are asking God how we should proceed. Here's why we're finally asking that question. The husband of this family wrote a blog post about the Christian's response to poverty, social justice, and the kingdom of God. We have been aware that we differ with him on some theological issues, but until now that didn't really make us uncomfortable. Last night we were uncomfortable.

We are now and not yet people. We understand that some think we are WAY off base in our thinking that consummation of redemption is future and we are also working in the kingdom even now. We hope that every day we are taking steps to usher in the kingdom of God, putting hands and feet to "Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." We understand that it can be an eschatological mine-field to talk about the final consummation of Christ taking his bride, while also talking about how the bride is to live now. We get it. But we choose to care for the poor, to welcome the orphans into our hearts and lives, to love on widows, and to proclaim liberty to the captives. We feel it is beholden upon us as Christians to be the body of Christ, and these things are natural functions of the body.

There is a lot of debate lately about the theological implications of poverty, orphan care, and wealth. My untrained, un-seminaried, illogical answer to the argument is this: Mercy ministry is kingdom work! This flies directly in opposition to my dear brother whom I would trust with the lives of my adopted kids. And so, I debate how to talk to this significantly more Bible educated brother about how passionately I feel that God has called us to bring his kingdom even now. And I debate if I should ask him and his beautiful wife, whom I love so much, to care for my kids if they are orphaned again by their adopted family. I don't know how you tell an adopted kid that their adoption is not part of the kingdom coming, but I fear that might be the way they see it. And I smack myself in the forehead for thinking "today I will do this, and tomorrow this is what will happen, and it will be great!" without thinking "God what do you want?"

Call to prayer

This is an edited version of  an email we sent to close friends and family. Some folks read here, but have not received that email, so if you fall into that category, here you go!

Hey friends and family!

We are sorry for the complete lack of communication lately about our adoption, but those of you who know anything about adoption know that this is how it is sometimes. We do not have any updates per se, and so we have not emailed with updates. Here is what has transpired in the last few weeks.

• We have received a few more pictures of our daughter, she is still beautiful, and our hearts are still in love with her sweet face.
• Her advocate, our sole source of information, has had some major family crises happen in the last few weeks, and has really had to focus on her life, which has, with good reason, pushed us to the background for a bit.
• We are still waiting for the US government to get things taken care of, and if you watch the news at all you know that there are so many other big things on plates of government officials right now, our little family isn't very significant to them.
• We still don't know if when to expect to travel.

As you can see, not much has changed. But, our hearts have changed in a big way. J and I talked the other night about where we are at, and both of us feel like it's time to really fight for our daughter. Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do tangibly to fight for her. Basically what we are being told is to stay out of the way and let the professionals do what they do. So how do we fight for our daughter from the sidelines? This is what God says to us:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. -- Eph 6:10-12

This is where our fight is. We feel that the delays, and the silence, and the chaos in the advocate's life, and the struggle in our hearts are not necessarily things from God, but some are attacks of the spiritual forces of evil. Our enemy does not like adoption. It is a beautiful real life picture of the power of God to redeem lives, and it brings great glory to God when his people hear his call in adoption. (James 1:27) I don't say that to make myself feel special, I say it because it is true. Just as marriage is constantly attacked because it is the image of God and his church, adoption is attacked because it is the image of our inheritance in the kingdom of God. So we are entering into spiritual battle for our daughter, and it will be a long and hard fight that will continue for the rest of her life.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because we need your help. Many of you have sweetly reminded us on dozens of occasions that you are praying for us. For that we are so grateful. Many more of you are praying even though we don't know specifically of it. If there are any of you who feel a heart burden for our daughter, or for us, it is time for you to stand against the schemes of the devil. Our God is great and mighty, and has called us as his people to fight for justice to reign on the earth. We are hands and feet delivering justice by caring for the poor, the orphans, and the widows, but we are also soldiers fighting in the epic battle against evil that threatens to destroy hearts and lives. We will not back down, we will not surrender, for the LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. (Psalm 46)

Dear friends, please pray. Pray against the schemes of the devil that would try to stop God's plan of redemption for our daughter. Pray for saving faith to blossom in her heart. Pray against the whispers of discouragement planted in our minds like flaming darts. Pray for joy in our hearts as we face this trial and are tempted to despair. Pray against the attacks coming on the lives of people involved in facilitating our adoption. Pray for their hearts to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. Pray against delays in the government. Pray for wisdom for our governmental leaders in regard to our nation, our family, and our daughter. Pray. Even when you don't hear from us for a while, pray. Even when you wonder what God is doing in our lives by calling us to this, pray. Even when you get tired of hearing us ask for prayer and want to do something practical, pray. Please pray.

Thank you all for standing with us in the first line of defense for our daughter!

Love!

D & J

Wisdom, With a Dash of Meekness

Here I go on another read-along with my sweet sister Marla. Yet again, God is timely in his placing of these read-alongs on my life. So, where am I, and why is a study of James so needed in my life? Have a sit, and let's talk...

My sweet husband and I received a call about a month ago about a girl who needed a family to adopt her, and based on what we had previously told my friend who works at a placing agency, our hearts were longing for just this girl. Well, honestly when we got the call, our hearts were not longing for this girl, and we felt very unready to say yes, but in theory this is the kind of kid we were thinking of when we talked about adoption. After several hours apart, praying while going about our day, we convened in the kitchen for a talk about the girl that God had placed in our hearts through one little phone call. As we each voiced our concerns, the other one would say "But God..." and then that concern seemed so invalid. This "But God" has been rolling around in my brain for about 6 months, so it's no surprise that God used those two simple words to warm my heart of clay to his intentions.

We expected her home any day now, and she is still not. We are in the midst of limbo, and it is the ugly, sticky, grey kind of gut-wrenching, faith-mocking, heart-breaking waiting that our hearts are unable to comprehend. There are days where I feel like I can't pray because my prayers feel too bitter to express. There are many days where James 1:2-4 are just a reminder of how little I trust God to give me the gift of children. How can I count it as joy when my heart yearns for the unseen? At what point will my faith be tested enough to produce steadfastness? When will my lacking of my daughter, the piece of my heart I didn't even know existed a month ago, be taken away and my joy fulfilled? Oh my soul, cling to your God!

But God has reminded me this week to ask for wisdom. There is so much I don't know, and may never know about my daughter, but I have to make decisions on her behalf before she is "officially" mine. Those decisions do not have to be made out of the combined pea-brain power of my brain and my husbands. I can ask my Father for wisdom, and he will give graciously to me without mocking me for my need. And God reminds me to hurry up and listen, be quiet, and slow my roll. (James 1:19 Dani Standard Version or DSV.)

Then I start to read the verses about bridling my tongue, and there is a big gulp that resounds in the chasms of my heart. My tongue gets away from me often, mostly because I take pride in it being unbridled. I am not good at all about shutting my mouth. The "be still and quiet" passages of the Bible are ones that I LOVE quoting to others, especially the horde of teenagers God has blessed me with, but really don't like to hear them for myself. There are rare times when I say things and then take a step back and say "Whoa! That was awesome!" More often though, I step back and say "Ugh! How does that meanness (ugliness, selfishness, etc.) come out of a heart that God has recreated?" How can I pray on the phone with a sweet girl who is struggling with loneliness, and then turn around and be sarcastic to my husband? And what do I do about it?

I NEED to receive with meekness the implanted Word, which is able to save my soul. The Word has become flesh and dwelt among us, more fully within those who have believed.  I need to receive Him in meekness. God in his mercy reminds me of 1 Peter 3:1-6, and then gently reminds my troubled heart that he is my good and perfect husband. Lord help me, I need a gentle and quiet spirit!

Pour out my heart

There's so much to do, and all I want to do is sit here and cry. I need to finish organizing and cleaning the guest bathroom, kitchen, laundry room, dining room, and guest bedroom. It probably wouldn't hurt to do a whole house vacuum and dust after I do all of that because of the sheer chaos that has been brought on my house lately, but I seriously doubt that my motivation will get me much farther than the kitchen.

With so much to do, why can I even contemplate sitting here and crying? Because I have lived with my phone attached to my person for the last 2 weeks, and the phone call I want hasn't come. Because my daughter isn't home, and my soul longs for that to not be true. Because it is so easy to look at all that we've accomplished and feel like none of it matters if my heart isn't in my arms. Because I go in her room a dozen times a day just thinking that I will open the door once and she will be there. Because I started out praying for a random girl, and now she is my daughter and I can't even tell her how much love God has put in my heart for her. Because miracle upon miracle has happened to get her home, and yet there is unfulfilled joy.

So, I have a good cry. And I read this promise:

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. - Ps 62:5-8

 And I take a deep breath. God I will pour out my heart before you while I clean my house today.

Letter to my Daughter

Dear Child of my Heart,

I have prayed for you longer than I have known you were alive. I have longed for the day to look into your eyes for the first time, even before I knew what color your eyes were. I have cried out to God to give me a daughter, and he gave me one from the beginning of time. You have been in my heart from the beginning, and will be until the end of my life. I love you.

I have tried to imagine how frightened you might be about becoming my daughter. I have prayed that you would know how much I love you before we even meet. I know it will be difficult for you to trust me, but I plan on spending the rest of my life earning the privilege of being someone your heart can trust.

It will be my honor to protect your heart with my life. My duty as your mother may at times look like something I have to do, but I assure you that the "have to" comes from the very compulsion of my heart to be what I was made for. I may not have held you in my arms right after giving birth to you, but that doesn't make me any less devoted to you.

I can't wait to learn who you are. I want to know your every dream, fear, happiness, and heartache. I want to encourage you in the things your are gifted at. I want to see your personality flourish. I'm already dreaming of the amazing woman you will grow into.

Most of all, I am excited to tell you about my Heavenly Father. I pray every day that you will come to a saving faith in the One who can bring lost souls out of darkness into his marvelous light. I pray that you let your heart be healed by his love. I hope for you to find ultimate protection, strength, love, encouragement, and peace in God.

I know at times you will think that I am too harsh, and sometimes you may be right. I know that I will fail you often, yet that doesn't dissuade me from trying to be a faithful mother to you. Please know that my best efforts, and my biggest failures, are all in the pursuit of loving you better and pointing you to my Savior who can love you best.

I will love you forever!

Mom

Is it foolishness or power?

My heart is heavy for a girl who is half a world away. This girl is not hypothetical, she has a name, and she is beautiful. For the sake of her heart, I will leave a lot or details out, but if you know us well you know who she is.

This girl is alone in a country that is not safe for girls to be alone. It is a miracle she has lasted this long, and as is the case for all orphans, it is questionable how long she can continue.  She needs a family to fight for her, she needs a family to love her, she needs a safe place to call home.

I received a call from a dear friend, whom I trust in these matters, asking me to pray about this girl. This friend pours out her heart and life for orphans, seeking to find homes for those who are alone. Her joy in what she does is evident in every conversation, and she takes it as a high calling to be able to care for orphans. My dear friend knows our hearts well enough to know what we are thinking and praying about as far as children in our family, and has been a wonderful encouragement along the way. She asked me if she could send this girl's information my way, and just asked me to pray about adoption. Somehow, even as my brain screamed "NO!" my mouth said "yes," very timidly. I was a little shocked by the words coming out of my mouth, but that's not a new experience for me!

By absolute providence, I walked outside and there was J, home from work on his lunch break. I told him about my conversation, and we both sat stunned, staring at each other, shaking our heads.  "We're not ready yet" is what both of us were thinking.

We have talked extensively about adoption over the last year. We initially looked into a certain area of the world, and felt like we were supposed to wait. Not that we were wrong, just that our timing, and our understanding of the situation was off. So then we started looking into foster care locally. We submitted our application and started the background check. A week later we get this phone call. This is not what we were expecting, but it is also exactly what our hearts were headed towards.

J went back to work, and when he got home that night we talked again, both with several hours of prayer under our belts. As we talked we came to one conclusion. This is where the rubber meets the road in our faith. This feels very much like a "Do you love me?" moment (John 21.)

We say that we want to care for the orphans, especially the older ones whom few are willing to care for. We say that we want to be a safe harbor for girls who would otherwise be destroyed by the broken world around them. We say that we know that God has a plan for our lives that involves loving those who are hard to love. We say that we are Christians.

What is comes down to is do we trust God?

Do we trust that his plans for us are good, and that those plans are for the expressed purpose of conforming us into the image of Christ, who for the joy set before him endured the cross? Do we trust God that he is good? Do we trust that the safety of a girl we don't know might be more important to the kingdom of heaven than the safety of our family? Do we trust that God knows every aspect of this girl's life, even though we may never know all of it? Do we trust that, by God's grace, we can love her even if she never loves us? Do we trust that the message of redemption is more important than our lives? Do we trust that God is who he says he is, and that we are who he says we are?

Do we trust God?

And furthermore, are we willing to put our hearts, lives, money, reputations, and safety where our mouths are?

We are standing at a line that once crossed cannot be be uncrossed, and we are asking each other over and over, "how can we NOT?" Admittedly, I feel a little like Indiana Jones stepping out into the abyss only to find that there is a straight and narrow path there. There are a million reasons to say that this is not the path for us. There are a million excuses for why we should just walk away and let someone else worry about this girl. And anyone in our lives, if we explained our reasons logically or spiritually enough, would understand. Some might even give us a little pat on the back, as if we had narrowly escaped a close call and were to be thought of as lucky.

But God has one reason for us to step over the line, love. Love that has been richly lavished upon us, even while we were afar off, enemies and traitors with hatred in our hearts. God knows our many excuses, and yet still compels our hearts to love.

Today, I have found myself sobbing at the thought of a girl I know so little about. Scrolling through Facebook, sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office, driving down the road, folding laundry, every day life has become unsafe for my heart. And so I pray for her, and I think on 1 Corinthians 1:18 - For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Ummm... yes please, 'Cause I'm crazy

I met my hero last night.  OK, I guess I can't say that I "met" in that we didn't actually have a conversation, exchange names and phone numbers, and become BFFs.  But I met her nonetheless.  And I want to grow up to be her.  This is much bigger than my desire to grow up and be Audrey Hepburn one day, so yeah, this is big.

We went to an Orientation meeting for CYFD.  This is basically where they tell you what fostering and adopting in the state is like; good, bad, and ugly.  The director lady spoke first, and I started crying within 10 minutes.  Then a social worker, who works on the adoption side of things, spoke.  I loved that she said that she doesn't look for a kid for your family, she looks for a family for her kids.  LOVE.  Then there was my hero.

This lady came to the meeting with 10 kids.  She opened by saying that the social worker is about to facilitate her 181st adoption because they are about to adopt their 2 year old.  Then she laughed and said her oldest child is 31, "so pray for me."  She and her husband have 3 bio kids, 4 adopted kids, and about to have one more.  And they have countless kids who have come in and out of their home through the foster system that you can tell are still part of her heart.  She said that she doesn't say "these are my bio kids, these are my adopted kids, and these are my foster kids."  And she doesn't answer questions.  She just says "these are my kids, and I love them.  Aren't they cute?"

We got in the car, and I told J I want to grow up and be her.  His response? "Yeah, me too."

So why did our hearts go to Thailand when we got serious about adoption, and now they are looking at our own city? NO IDEA.  Why did we say there's no way we could foster, and now it's a definite possibility?  NO IDEA.  Why did I ask for information about Thailand adoption from an international agency and they sent a whole packet without the specific information I asked for?  NO IDEA.

Actually, I do have an idea to all of those.  Because God is.  He is sovereign, faithful, merciful, good, just, and holy.  And because he wants us to be too.  I don't know what that all means, but I know it's because God is.

We were lost children who were found by him, and now he is calling us to find lost children.  And with much joy, and fear, and excitement, and worry, I say yes please.

At the impulse of Thy love

And we're back!  I know I shouldn't be surprised by spiritual attacks during times of growth, but wow, it's been a rough month!  So, here I am, continuing on with the Radical Read Along, and feeling that definite paradox of encouragement and conviction that comes when we hear what we've been needing to hear.

My husband called me the other day while he was at work and said he had heard something truly sad.  Thinking he was being sarcastic, I laughed and asked what it was that was disheartening.  He said that a friend of his had just confided in him that he only eats twice a day because he can't afford three meals.  Ouch, no longer laughing.  Upon further discussion, J realized the extent of the situation this friend is in.  He is so far in debt that he feels hopeless, he is behind on every payment, and is about to be without a place to live.  We haven't know this guy all that long, but he knows that we are Christians.  Maybe he told J these things just to get it off his chest, maybe he told him because he knows that we are praying folks, or maybe he told him because this young man is part of our mission.  J asked if I would be ok with this man living with us if he can't find another place to live.  He wasn't asking to get permission, because I don't call the shots around here, he was feeling convicted to help and wanted to know that I was on board.

My response, I truly believe, was the evidence of God working in my heart.  I was suprised by the words I said, as I said them.  "We can't be in his life, proclaiming to be Christians, and desiring to share the gospel with him if we aren't willing to share our home and our food.  He can stay as long as he needs to until he gets caught up.  Rent free.  Let's do this, let's love him."  Then I stopped because I was both excited and scared at hearing God working.

J knows me.  He knows that I like my space, I like things the way I do them, I don't like intruders in my space or time, and I have never been good with roommates.  It was a major adjustment to living with my husband and actually learning to be a civilized human being with him.  He knows that it would be hard on me to have anyone living with us, and both of us are asking God to work in our hearts willingness to see our house as His, not ours.  So he asked if I was sure.  After the gulp of selfishness finally went down and settled in my stomach I finally said that I was sure, then got off the phone an freaked out.

Then God reminded me of the miracle work that he has done in our lives in the last 3 years of marriage.  When we got married we had more in our combined debt than I was making in a year.  Within months of getting married we bought a house.  Thankfully God gave us wisdom in buying our house, but with the added mortgage we now had more debt than I would make in 7 years, not including interest.  And that is assuming that we would live off of my husband's income and take every penny I made and use it to pay off debt.  So we made a plan to get out of debt in 5 years.  We went to budgeting classes, read books, and started making adjustments to our lifestyles.  The place we were most convicted is that we were not giving to the church.  So, we started giving even though it felt counterintuitive to give when we didn't have extra.

Then about a year into marriage we felt God leading me to leave my job. Whether it was to get a different job or to stay home and actually care for my home and husband, that wasn't clear, but the need to leave was. Through much fear, hesitation, and disobedience, we finally realized that God did have a plan for us, that included future and hope, and that He wouldn't lead us where it was impossible to follow.  Even if it was hard, it wasn't impossible.  So, we were challenged to see the difference between what we needed and what we just wanted, and started eliminating luxuries.  For a while we lived off of mac & cheese because we just couldn't afford more than that. Theoretically we could afford it, but not if we wanted to be out of debt.  And every time we felt like we had made great strides in our finances, God convicted us about our giving, that it wasn't sacrificial.  We don't care for the oppressed, the needy, the orphan, the widow, or even the messengers of the gospel, as much as we care for comfort.  We should, but we don't.

We still have the mortgage, but the other debt is a third of what is was 3 years ago.  We must be geniuses, we should write a book about how smart we are to do so good!  Or, instead do we have a great God who has richly blessed us so that we can be a blessing to others?  Maybe it isn't a book of "How to Get Out of Debt with 10 Simple Steps," but it is a life of saying "We've been there, we know your hurt and shame, let us introduce you to a God who gives us all things that pertain to life and godliness, even financial wisdom."

And it is even one step further of seeing how far God has brought us, and looking for more ways to give up what we think we need for the sake of the desires of His heart.

This is giving sacrificially to help those in need.  This is getting out of debt not so that we can save for retirement, but so that we can pour our lives more freely into others.  This is letting young men in need live with us as a way of living the gospel good-Samaritan style, rather than just preaching to him as he becomes homeless.  This is taking everything extra that comes our way and saving it to pay the price of redemption for a life in need; living out the adoption that our Father has shown to us in the life of young girls desperate to be loved.  This is asking if He had called us to go, and asking seriously, ready to go if the answer is "yes."  This is giving so much time, resources, money, and love to the body of Christ that people think we are crazy.  This is giving to the point that church leaders ask us to stop giving because there is nothing left for ourselves.  Are we there yet?  Sadly, no.  Will we ever be?  Doubtful.

I know that our friend who gets 2 meals a day is not poor by the standards of the world population.  But I also know that by the standards of the lives around him, he is.  And we are called to him as much as we are called to the people who live on a dollar a day.  We are called, and if we don't answer that call then we may be counted among those who are cast out, surrounded by the ominous words "I never knew you."  David Platt puts it well:

if our lives do not reflect radical compassion for the poor, there is reason to wonder if Christ is really in us at all. (111)

God has placed within the earthen vessels of His children the unspeakable gift, the treasure of the light of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord.  How can those around us know the richness of that treasure if we aren't willing to pour it out any way we possibly can?

This is not home

Still on the Radical read along with Marla and friends, and I can honestly say that this week I am thankful for Marla's questions.  Most weeks there is something new God is working in my heart through the chapter, but this week it feels like something He has been working in my heart through the last year and a half and Chapter 5 was confirmation of conformation.  If this seems disjointed, it is because I'm following questions, not my own random stream of thought.

All that being said, the sermon this Sunday was on thankful praying.  Not "thank you God for the ten million things you give me that make me happy right now," but more the "thank you God for who you are, thank you for faith, thank you for love, thank you for hope, thank you for the Gospel of salvation, thank you for those who bring the Gospel to me."  This was a good one for me to hear.   Often I have my list of prayers that I lift up to God, my needs, other's needs, church needs, global needs, etc., but I forget to thank God.  People will speak praises during "prayer request time" and I don't write those down.  Oh how I fail to worship God rightly!  I am ungrateful by omission of thankfulness.  2 Timothy 3 has this intense list of what people who are not lovers of God look like, and at the end of the list God commands us through our brother Paul, "Avoid such people."  One of those characteristics nestled nicely in the list is ungratefulness.  Ouch.

Making disciples is hard work.  It's scary to realize that the only way we can effectively make disciples is by letting people into our lives.  It would be so much easier to put people on the ten step road to Christian success and meet them on graduation day to celebrate.  The hardest part for me in discipling is being vulnerable and not getting instant results.  I want to tell them I've been where they are, and made it out only by the grace of God.  I want them to see in my life, through one conversation, the hope of glory.  But sometimes it takes days, weeks, years of faithfulness on my part to see even a sparkle of hope in the lives of those I'm discipling.  But then I'm reminded that it isn't my work, and it isn't my glory, and it isn't even my disciples.  It is Christ in me, the hope of glory.  Hopefully as people get more into my life they see more of Him and less of me.

My husband works with an two athiests, a Mormon, a Jehovah's Witness, a Muslim, two baby Christians, and a guy who told him he didn't want to come to Bible study because Bible studies just make him feel like more of a screw up than he already knows he is.  This is our mission field.  This is the beginning of all nations for us, and I fear we don't take it seriously enough.  We have them over for dinner, but we fail often to "fit the gospel into the conversation."  This is our lives, our hearts, our hope, and we just want them to see God in us, yet we don't show Him to them.  We are willing to reproduce the gospel to others who have already heard it, which is good (2 Pet 1:12,) but it is rare that we reproduce the gospel we have heard to those who haven't heard.  We desperately need to be more intentional in this, otherwise in our apathy we are accepting that hell is inevitable for those we love.

So how do I get out of the safety of the church?  I have no idea.  Seriously i have struggled with this for years.  I ran as hard as I could away from God, and when I turned around to see him running up the road to meet me I realized I was home.  Then, I lost all of my friends.  I had no one but my future husband.  I have slowly made friends in the church, and have started to feel safe and secure.  The home that I felt was not the church, it was God, but I have made the church home.  But this isn't what I'm called to.  But I don't have any friend outside of church.  I have the guys my husband works with, but it is sort of his mission rubbing off on me to make it our mission.  Is that ok? I don't know. Is that enough? I don't think so.  This is one that I struggle with over and over.  I don't know how to go.

Finally, God is doing great and mighty things in our little family as I work through this book.  My husband doesn't like sharing books, so he keeps saying he'll read it when I'm done, but I don't think God isn't willing to let my heart grow out further than my husband can lead it. How sweet it has been to see my husband learn things that I've learned and haven't even talked to him about.

In the last month or so I've found two things built into my marriage that are so sweet.  The first is that my husband is much more cheerful giver than I am.  God has blessed me with a man who is radical in his giving.  When we are discussing some sort of giving, I usually have a number in my head that fits in the budget.  In an effort to let him lead when I would much rather lead, I have asked him what he thinks instead of telling him my magic number.  Every time he is at least double what I was thinking.  And every time God is glorified through his faith.  God gave me a balance to my frugality.

I have also been blessed with a husband who is willing to hear where God is leading, even if God is leading to be still.  I am overly passionate about everything, so God gives me temperance in human form to help me to simmer rather than boiling over.  I have been boiling over about children since before we were married.  With the inevitability of getting one year older looming (6 months from now) I have felt a little more nervous, which is saying something.  But he just said be patient.  He knew it was not what I wanted to hear, but he also knew it was what I needed to hear.  He knew, because he was listening, that we needed to let God work on our hearts more.  And now, our hearts have been captured for adoption.  Not that we didn't think about it, but God needed to work out the sweet reality of our spiritual adoption first so that we were genuinely passionate about it, not just doing it as a means to an end.  Something I have longed for since I was in high school, now my husband is passionate about, and excited to be called to.  What a kind God we have who doesn't call one of us to a life that the other one is not passionate about!

Broken for His Glory

Since Chapter 4 of Radical seems like a breaking point of hearts, let me just rant a little about a few things that have been breaking my heart lately.

My mom went to Zimbabwe a few years ago with a medical team.  She came back with a boatload of heart breaking stories, but there is one that just breaks me over and over.  A mother was at the clinic with her son who was dying.  The doctors told her that he needed protein to live.  He was malnourished to the point of death.  Both she and her baby were surviving on a corn gruel that had little intrinsic value other than filling the emptiness of their stomachs for a time.  One egg a week could save him.  The mother wept, there was no way she could afford an egg.  Her son would die because the minimal protein from one egg was more than his mother could provide.

A friend who adopted two sweet babies from Ethiopia shared a heart wrenching story from their process.  In Ethiopian adoptions you have to make two trips to the country.  They were on their second trip for their daughter, the one where they get to take her home, and their first trip for their son, the one where they get to meet him and spend some time with him.  They spent a lot of time with both babies, just hanging out loving on their two children, but then their son had to be taken back to the orphanage.  That sweet boy had a taste of what family was, and then was being thrust back into "the system" until such time as the approval came for him to be with his family.  He started to scream as they dropped him off.  It was desperate, a sound his father has only heard a few times since, but the message was clear.  "Don't leave me, I need you!"

Finally, is the story that God is just splitting me wide open with.  There are girls all over the world who dread the day they turn 16.  That day is met not with the cutesy pageantry some American girls get, but with mourning.  This is the day that they are officially unadoptable.  They will spend the rest of their short lives as household servants at best, and sex slaves at worst.  These beautiful girls, with so much potential for greatness in the kingdom of God, will be used, abused, traded like property, neglected, and alone.  And those are just the girls who escaped slavery by a true miracle until they reach 16.  That doesn't account for the girls who were kidnapped or abandoned at 5 or younger to satisfy the sick desires of men corrupted by their fleshly desires.

After hearing those kinds of things, it is hard for me to feel legitimate in asking the question - Is there a such thing as too radical?  The Father saw that it was good to sacrifice His Son to redeem a people unto Himself, and I worry that people won't like me if I post too many church centered facebook status updates?!  I hesitate to feel like we should be adopting because it might be hard socially, and yet for the joy set before Him, Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame.  I hesitate to tell my family of the discussions my husband and I have been having lately about adoption, because I worry that they'll think we're just not trusting God enough to get pregnant.

I hear ladies in my Bible study complain that Americans don't like Christians, and I say something so awkward as "They crucified Jesus, and we're to be reflecting Him, so why would we think that the gospel would make us a whole lot of friends?"  But then I sit the rest of the time fuming in embarasment at saying such a controversial thing.  Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?!  And then God brings to mind Romans 1:16

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.

But I am ashamed.  I don't like being set apart, it's lonely.  I don't like proclaiming the gospel, it makes me sound like a crazy person.  I don't like being the weirdo who weeps over little girls in other countries.  Who am I kidding, I don't like being the weirdo who weeps over anything.  I like my sick twisted heart just the way it is, thank you very much, and I don't like God sanctifying it.  And most of all, I don't like not being the center of it.

It is all about God.  I asked a few weeks back what my life would be like if I truly let God break my heart for the things that break His.  His heart is for the redemption of people all over the world.  His heart breaks for the fatherless, both physically and spiritually.  His heart breaks for the neglected, abused, lost, and dying.  His heart breaks for the people tormented by their sin and the sin of those around them.  His heart breaks for his creation that is made in his image to reflect Him rightly.  His heart breaks for the babies starving to death in the arms of mothers who are unable to save them.  His heart breaks for the orphans who cry out for a family.  His heart breaks for the girls who have given up hope of being someone's daughter.

His heart breaks for all those who die with no hope.

How can I worry about being too radical in my faith?  The amount that I become broken into the image of Christ should be in direct proportion to the amount that I look different from the rest of the world.