Unless God. . .

Two weeks ago my husband and I had one of the hardest Thanksgivings ever. We had lost the son we were supposed to be adopting and were heartbroken ("Supposed to Be"). A few days later we went to church, wanting the support of our church family, but dreading the emotions. Over and over we were asked, "Is there any chance that you could see the baby again?" "Couldn't you guys be his foster care family, since you were going to adopt him anyway?" "Are you SURE it's all over?" Over and over we said, "No, not unless God intervenes." "No, they don't do things that way. Only if God does a miracle." "Yes, yes, it's all over. Everyone's told us that. There's no chance unless God does something miraculous."

Monday morning we were both supposed to go back to work. Sunday evening I decided not to so that I could accompany Paul to a doctor appointment. As I sat in the waiting room, we got a text from our adoption agency social worker to "Call me as soon as you can." We called, and she told us that the family services agency of the county in which the baby was born wanted to see if we would foster the baby while all of the details and logistics of figuring out where he would end up were sorted out. At that point we assumed it would just be for a few weeks. Of course we wanted to see the baby again, and give him a good start, but we also knew the even bigger heartbreak that could occur in a few weeks. We agreed to talk to the county to see exactly what they wanted.

The agency offered us to be kinship foster care providers for the baby. When we asked them how long they anticipated us having the baby, they said "Six months to a year, up to two years." Huh? It seems that the sorting out of all of this is going to take a while, and that, while the goal of foster care is always reunification with the birth family, there is the possibility that the child will become available for adoption.

It seemed abundantly clear to us that God had indeed intervened. We believe that He, miraculously and against all protocol, wanted us to have this baby back, at least for a while. So, while we intellectually have counted the cost of loving with no guarantee, we know that emotionally we risk heartache and tears--as do all parents. We don't know what God's plan is with this. It could be to give our little man the best start that we can, in a stable and loving environment. It could be to show the other people involved the love of Jesus. It could be to eventually adopt this little one who burrows deeper into our hearts every day. Regardless, when God works in such a big way, we really have no choice but to submit and trust Him that He will be enough for us, no matter what happens.

All I Need is a Miracle

Yikes! Over a month since my last post! Thankfully not an indication of whether God is at work in my life. . . Just an indication of school being in full swing and life getting a little bit crazy.

I've been thinking a little bit about miracles lately. I was talking to a friend about how I would, just once, like to see a "real" miracle. "Real" being defined as: earth-shattering, mind-boggling, Red Sea-parting, Lazarus rising-from-the-dead OFFICIAL miracle. Because. . . wouldn't that grow my faith? Wouldn't that inspire my passion? Wouldn't that increase my belief? Wouldn't it??

Since the Lord often delights in creating relationships between people who approach ideas from opposite sides of the fence, my friend was not buying into my premise. "I don't think you're thinking this through (knowing me, probably not)," he said. "Oh, don't THINK so hard, just imagine how cool it would be to see a REAL miracle. The Israelites got to see LOTS of miracles (not that it helped their faith all that much). I just want to see one," I said. "Do you really want to be in the position of the Israelites? They weren't out for a walk. The Egyptian soldiers were going to kill them if they didn't cross the Red Sea. The other side was just desert." Oh. Yeah. True enough. And that manna that fell from heaven. . . they had nothing else to eat. The alternative was starvation. And the day the sun stopped, well, slaughter was the other choice. Hmm.

Drat. Why is there always someone wise to make me think? Most of the miracles that leap to my mind from the Bible are a result of God acting when there was no alternative. All avenues and choices were exhausted. Then and only then God moved.

DO I really want to be in that place? The place in the battle of lacking any victory except for the Lord working? The spot at the feet of the crowd reaching for the hem of Jesus' garment to be healed? The seat outside the tomb when someone I love is dead? No doubt I will be brought to those places one way or another sooner than I wish, and I will see the Lord work, either in outward miracle or inward growth and acceptance, but maybe I shouldn't be so eager to "see a miracle" just because I think it would be cool.

In that crazy way the Lord has of bringing things up all at once, the chapter that I just read in "Forgotten God" by Francis Chan also mentions miracles--how God does them to make Himself and His glory know, and how we don't recognize the ones that are all around us.

At the end of the conversation with my friend, the Holy Spirit convicted me (what I like to refer to as a "kick in the behind") that I HAVE seen miracles. I have seen the Lord take my heart, which was hard, hard, HARD, and soften it with His love and grace. When I first began this walk of faith, I was frantic to have a real relationship with Jesus. I despaired of ever reaching that place. Yet, here I am. Not a wow-everyone-look-at-that parting of the waters, but a genuine work of God nonetheless. Those miracles I do want to recognize whenever I see them.

At Just the Right Time

There are moments that I rue the inspiration which named this blog (what WAS I thinking?). It seems that the current theme of my life is waiting. This morning I read the following passage from Acts 3 (verses 1-12):

Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!" And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.
While he clung to Peter and John, all the people, utterly astounded, ran together to them in the portico called Solomon’s. And when Peter saw it he addressed the people: "Men of Israel, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we have made him walk?

This beggar had been lame since birth, and in an instant (when all he was expecting was alms) was healed. How many years had the man been lame? From the time he was born until he was a man, so at least probably 16, 17 years. Years of sitting by the gate, begging. I wonder how many times he had asked God to heal him. Did he still have hope? Or had he given up and accepted his lot in life?

One of the hard things about waiting, which I come back to again and again, is contained within the uncertainty of it. If we know the length of the wait, we can hold on. Or, as with a woman in labor, if we know the happiness that comes at the end of the wait (and that it for sure will end), we can endure not knowing exactly how long it will take. When we are waiting for something that is not guaranteed (a new job, a mate, a pregnancy, healing) and has no set end, well, that's when we doubt and wonder and want to give up. We lose faith that God is paying attention, that He sees us, that He is, indeed, working it all for good.

The man is just laying at the gate. His friends and the whole neighborhood have seen him there for years. They know him. They know that he was born lame and that he can't walk. So when Peter and John, through the power of the Holy Spirit, heal him, there is no doubt. Unlike when we watch some TV show with people throwing away crutches or leaping from wheelchairs and cynically wonder if they were planted in the audience, this Jewish audience had no doubt. They had seen a miracle. The Lord was at work. The people are hanging on the words of Peter. Later, in Acts 4:4, we read:

But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand.

FIVE THOUSAND people believed in Jesus after seeing this man healed and hearing the words of Peter. Five thousand. The man had to wait for years and years for healing so that the miracle could happen at just the right moment in time and would lead to an overwhelming number of people coming to know Jesus. If I believed that my waiting had a purpose, maybe a much bigger purpose than I can imagine, would I wait more patiently? More graciously? More easily? Once again, it all comes down to faith to believe God's promises to me, and to being brave enough to hope in His goodness. As I type this, I'm reminded of a song by Addison Road (one of my new favorites): YouTube - Addison road - Hope Now (w/ lyrics)

It always DOES come down to faith, and hope in the character and goodness of God.