Theory vs. Practice

"Love without limits." "Love in spite of." "Love without getting anything in return." "Love like Jesus." Those phrases, read with inspiring music playing in my head, sound noble, like a worthy aspiration. And they are. But they are far easier to say than to do. To think about than to implement.

We have been fostering our son's sister for nine weeks now. We know that the goal of foster care is reunification with the birth family. We, intentional or not, received the impression that probably it would be a clear path to adopting little Miss S. We found out that isn't the case.

We don't know what will ultimately happen. In the world of foster care, it's early days. But. But. We had already built the future in our minds, and forgotten to hold loosely. We had prayed for so long for a sister for Z that we assumed an ending that hadn't yet been made clear. He has a sister, and they will be siblings forever. We just don't know if she will be living with us or not.

Almost all adoptions/foster situations are more complicated than they look. We want the best for S, and that may be living with her birth family. Children living with their birth families is what is supposed to happen. Foster care and adoption is not what is supposed to happen. They can be beautiful and redemptive and loving, but it is only reality because of sin. Sin always leads to sadness and heartbreak for someone.

We love S. We want her to stay in our family. We want her and Z to grow up together. If she must leave, we will be heartbroken. Her big brother loves his "Sissy" very much, and my heart quails and my eyes overflow imagining explaining to him (who won't be able to really understand anything but that she's gone) that his sister had to go away.

But. But. Children belong with biological parents if it is possible, and if it is a safe and loving environment. While I think I know what is best for S, I am not God. I don't know the future. I only know my feelings and my desires, and they are currently at war. I want S to stay with us. At the same time, as a Christian, one of the deepest desires of my heart is that God be glorified, and that I follow and obey the teachings of Jesus. The temptation is twofold: To wish ill will for our kids' birth parents and pursue what we want at any cost, or, maybe worse, to withhold our hearts from our daughter (which she will always be) to try to lessen the pain. Neither choice will glorify God.

Today in church we sang an older Mercy Me song, "God With Us". The chorus has the line, "All that is within me cries For You alone be glorified." My husband and I want that to be true for us. Yet that choice, so romantic and lofty, holds the potential for much pain. The next line is the only power that will sustain us in this journey: "Emmanuel, God with Us."

God's heart has felt its share of pain. He gave up His Son. We say that a lot, but the true import of it is beyond knowing. He has put this baby in our home, and in our hearts for a reason. We will trust that He will give us grace for whatever happens, and that, whether she stays for six months or for our lifetime, we will love her wholeheartedly. 

This obedient choice does not make us saints. Many of you reading this would choose the same. If we knew what we know now, would we change our minds? Would you? If told your child had a sibling who needed a safe and loving home? That maybe she would stay with you and with her big brother? How could we not? How can we not love her to the best of our ability? We have been loved so so much by the Lord and by His family. When the time comes to put our grand and romantic and real theories into action, we will do so, knowing that "I can do all things, through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)--and that God's strength is the only way, and that it will be enough.

Supposed To Be . . .

Today was supposed to be the day that we brought our son home. After seventeen months as a waiting family, we were matched with an expectant mom and all seemed well. The baby was born earlier in the week and today was supposed to be the start of a new chapter in our lives and the fulfillment of long-held hopes and dreams.

Instead, the bassinet was moved to the basement, the pack n play is folded and packed away, and all the other baby paraphernalia is hidden in drawers and closets. So close, again, but denied.

There's no one to blame, really. Just broken people, like each one of us, seeking love and acceptance and chasing a dream of family. We're just the collateral damage who were standing in the middle.

We saw him an hour after birth. Fed him his first bottle. Tried (unsuccessfully) to get his first burps. Watched the first bath and the weighing and the measuring. Held him. Rocked him. Cried tears of joy. Successfully burped him. Prayed over him. Then, in one phone call, it all changed.

We sobbed. We held him one last time, prayed, kissed him on the forehead, and wheeled him back. We said goodbye, trusting him to a God who sees the end from the beginning and loves us fiercely.

We are broken people too. This morning was the morning we were supposed to bring him home and we would be, officially, parents. Instead, we are full of tears, sorrow, and sadness.

We don't feel strong. We're trusting the Lord as best we can, trusting in the truth that He will work all of this for good (Romans 8: 28). But it's hard. And it hurts.  We are held up by God's grace and love and the love and support being shown to us by our friends and family, with whom we have been gifted beyond measure.

Maybe there's a different son or daughter still to come. Maybe we will become parents in a way we can't imagine. Maybe the answer is "no" and we will fulfill another purpose.

Even if it was only for two days, we are thankful to have loved a precious, beautiful, baby boy, and we will never forget him. He will always be in our hearts and a part of our family.

Update to this story: Unless God. . .

That Whole Judging Thing

"What right do you have to judge me?" This phrase is often spoken (many times shouted) in the hopes of ending an argument. Pages and pages of text could be written discussing the different types of judgement Jesus speaks about in the Bible. A few days ago, I read an account in Luke 7:36-50 in which my own sometimes judgmental heart was exposed.

In summary, Jesus accepts an invitation to the home of a Pharisee, Simon. While Jesus was there, a woman of the village who was a known sinner (maybe a prostitute) anoints Jesus' feet with oil and wipes His feet with her hair. Simon is scandalized and thinks to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner." (Luke 7:39b) Jesus points out to Simon that this woman loves Jesus because she is, indeed, a sinner and has been forgiven much by Jesus. She has honored Jesus much more than Simon, who has not even fulfilled the rules of good etiquette for the time (given water to wash with, anointed Jesus' head with oil). Jesus commends the woman's faith and tells her to go in peace.

I have always before seen the Pharisee, Simon, as judging the woman and trying to provoke Jesus, and I think he is, indeed, doing that. However, what I noticed this time was that Simon was judging Jesus. He was looking at Jesus with the sole purpose of noticing what He was doing wrong and calling Him out on it. Simon, in essence, was seeing only Jesus' "sins". In contrast, when Jesus looked at the woman, He focused on her heart. He saw her heart of love and worship and welcomed her. Jesus knew she was a sinner. He was aware of her sin. But that was not what He chose to notice.

Often I am like the Pharisee. I notice all the things that someone is doing wrong. Sometimes what I notice is truly sin. Sometimes it's just not the way I would do things. Regardless, when I focus only on a person's sinful actions, I don't see their heart. I don't see the love or friendship they may be offering, or the brokenness that has brought them to that place.

The second point I noticed was far more chilling to me. Simon, in focusing only on the sins of Jesus and the woman completely missed not just the heart of the woman, but Jesus Himself. Simon wasn't seeing Jesus as He was. Simon was only finding fault to support his own opinion. I never want to be so focused on fault-finding that I miss Jesus. I want to see Him as clearly as possible, and, instead of judging much, to love much.

Reminding Myself of the Truth

As I am reading through Deuteronomy in this year's read-through-the-Bible journey, I've noticed how often the Israelites are reminded of their deliverance from Egypt. Over and and over the story is told. The first three chapters of Deuteronomy are devoted to retelling the Israelites' journey.  I started wondering why the people needed to hear the story so often. Granted, it had been 40 years since the actual event, but it would seem that plagues and the parting of the Red Sea and escape from captivity would be memorable enough that constant reminders would not be needed. And yet. . .

It seems that usually the people of Israel = me. I want to think that I would have remembered seeing God's power rescue me from slavery, that I wouldn't have made a golden calf within 40 days of Moses leaving, that I wouldn't have complained about having to eat manna and about how it was so much better in Egypt. And yet. . .

When I read in the Old Testament, which can be tricky and I by no means am any sort of expert, I try to think and pray about what the Lord wants for me to do with these thoughts now, in light of Jesus. God was reminding the Israelites over and over again of their rescue from slavery. What did He want them to know? I think He wanted them to remember that the He rescued them, by His hand, and without any help from them, and that He did it because He loved them:

And because he loved your fathers and chose their offspring after them and brought you out of Egypt with his own presence, by his great power,  driving out before you nations greater and mightier than you, to bring you in, to give you their land for an inheritance, as it is this day,  know therefore today, and lay it to your heart, that the Lord is God in heaven above and on the earth beneath; there is no other. (Deuteronomy 4:37-39)

He also reminded them of their sin and the consequences of it. Even with the visual presence of God in the cloud or the pillar of fire, the people wouldn't trust His timing or His ways.

So, what do I need to be reminded of over and over and over? What truths do I forget as soon as I go to the next task? Unsurprisingly, the same thing as the Israelites. God came and rescued me from sin and death, and it was all Him, not me:

 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9)

 Sometimes I think it was me. And if it was me, I could have done it wrong, or messed it up, or failed. Or, I could get pleased with myself because of how great I was to choose God and do what He wants. That's when I need to be reminded of the second truth I tend to forget: I'm a sinner. I don't make golden calves, but I set up other idols in my heart. I worry and don't believe the promises of God in the Bible and I speak unkindly and I'm impatient and. . . the list goes on. Every day I need Jesus. Every day I need to be reminded of the truth of the gospel--that because of God's great love for me, I have Jesus and I am forgiven and made righteous only because of Him.

This morning I was praying about it again, and asking the Lord, "What do you want me to remember and never forget?" Unsurprisingly, really, was the answer, "I love you." Always, always, always, it's what I most easily forget and most vitally need to remember: That God loved me when I was yet a sinner and died to reconcile me to Himself (Romans 5:8), that God loves me as I remain a sinner in need of His grace, and that God will love me when I die (or He comes back) and I finally am no longer a sinner.

Me, you, all of us. . . God loves us wildly, and He wants us to know that. A few days ago, I was reminded of this song by Rich Mullins (one of my favorite, favorite artists): The Love of God

I hope that I, and you, will choose to remember (or, more accurately, let ourselves be reminded) daily the reckless, raging love of God that redeems and saves us.

Life, Zombies, and the Pursuit of Love

A blog? Oh, yeah, I have one. This being in love thing kinda takes up a lot of brain space. Speaking of love, many people know that I am, as unlikely as it may seem, a fan of the AMC show "The Walking Dead." Two words: Zombie apocalypse.

I was watching the most recent episode, "Claimed" (season 4, episode 11), a few days ago. Once again, all hell has broken loose. The safe haven the survivors had claimed was destroyed, and the makeshift family they had formed was disbanded. No one knows who's alive and who's dead. Various group of two or three are trying to figure out what to do next and where to go. 

Part of the fascination for me with this show involves imagining what I would do if something like this really happened. There are enemies everywhere, there is no hope in sight for a cure, and life consists of fighting zombies and trying to find enough food and water to survive. Even death holds no peace (spoiler alert) because once you die, you turn into a flesh-eating zombie. A question the characters wrestle with over and over is whether to keep fighting for survival or to just give up. What is the point? There is no safe place, no solution, no rest.

As the past few episodes have played out, I noticed that almost every character carries on because of the love they have for someone else. A father for his son. A little sister for a big sister. A husband for a wife. The one goal of the these characters is to find or protect their loved one. They don't rest, they risk death, they pursue even in the face of overwhelming odds. The following clip shows one character's (Beth's) determination to find her sister and others:

The Walking Dead - Sneak Peek: Episode 410: The Walking Dead: Inmates – AMC

The world we live in remains free of zombies, but, nonetheless, it is not safe. People hurt us. They leave. They die. Worse, we hurt other people. We leave. We die. We sin against God and others every single day. I wonder how Jesus sees our world? Do we look like survivors of a zombie apocalypse, wandering around in our rags, seeking family in a war zone? Jesus came to us in our mess to rescue us. More ardently than Glenn seeks Maggie (think Romeo and Juliet. Except older, dirtier, and much better with knives), Jesus seeks us. As we run after the loves we desire, He pursues us, knowing that only His love for us will save us from futility and death. 

That desire of the survivors of the zombie apocalypse to find their family? The passion and purpose that impels them to keep going though thirsty, hungry, and wounded? It reflects, but only dimly, the passionate pursuit of our Savior.

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost." (Luke 19:10)

Poetry, not Procedure

I have claimed Christianity for quite some time now--over twenty years. As anyone who knows me or has read this blog realizes, it has not been an easy journey for me. The "how" of it all has always frustrated me. Goal-driven by personality, reconciling the grace of God with the rules of behavior has been a continual struggle. In the parable of the prodigal son, I am the elder brother, hurt and angry at the grace shown to the other brother, the one who screwed up and now gets a party.  Even as I have tried to understand grace and love, so much of my own performance-driven nature paired with so much of my religious experience has caused me to miss the miracle.

I'm reading a book right now: "He Loves Me", by Wayne Jacobsen. Skeptical by nature, especially skeptical of anything that sounds too "lovey-dovey" about God, I approached it with some trepidation, despite a glowing recommendation from a dear friend. I'm a few chapters away from the end and. . . I feel like I might finally be getting it. I feel like the mystery and the poetry and the story of the love of God through Jesus have been given back to me.

I love to read. I love a good story. Words are like music to me. Before I became a believer, I had read a lot of books which pointed to God's love for me. Books about lost people being found. Stories about sacrificial love. The tales I love best are those where good wins and evil loses and the lovers unite and the endings are happy. There are people(many of whom I cannot give credit to by name) who believe that every good and worthwhile story is the story of God redeeming His bride, the Shepherd finding His sheep, the sacrifice of perfect love to save sinful people. Think of the stories you treasure. Why are they dear to you? For me, it's the idea that love will win. That someone would search until the lost are found. That there is love strong enough to defeat death.

I, too, believe that all redemptive tales are God whispering and calling to us. There is a mystery in faith, a poetry, something that we long for but can't understand. I owe much to the churches that I have belonged to since I became a Christian. I have learned much of love and acceptance and community that I could have discovered nowhere else. However, most of the teaching and theology that I have heard has, paired with my performance-oriented bias, tried very hard to remove the mystery and the poetry and even the love from the salvation story.

In many cases, salvation is explained like a legal transaction:  Man is sinful (true). Man can never enter heaven or a relationship with God because of sin (also true). God wants us to be in heaven and in relationship with Him (true again), so He sent Jesus to pay our consequence and rescue us from His punishment (kinda true but not the whole story). Jesus died, we believe, we go to heaven and can know God (again. . . kinda yes but falling so short of profound mystery of it all).

That rendering of my salvation leaves me cold. It always has, and I always felt guilty about that. I should be grateful for Jesus paying the price for my sin (and I am, though this analogy doesn't lead me there). But this reduction of my salvation to a legal procedure fails to stir my heart.

In this book, Jacobsen explains the cross in a way that restores to me the poetry, mystery, and love of it all. Jesus' sacrifice for me, for you, for all of us was not a mere legal transaction or fulfillment of the letter of the law. It was an act imagined by a loving and creative Father determined to restore the relationship that was forfeited by Adam and Eve. Jesus didn't just pay for our sin. He became sin (2 Corinthians 5:21: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."). He didn't do it just to balance some cosmic scale, but because He loved us and wanted us to be free from the power of sin so that we could live a life glorifying to God and a life united with God.

There is no performing that I can do to make God love me more. The Lord doesn't want my obedience done to earn His favor. I have His favor, wholly unearned:

But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit,  whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life (Titus 3:4-7)

 God doesn't want slaves or soldiers. He wants children and friends (John 15:15). As I learn to "live loved" by trusting and following the Lord's lead even as I don't understand, I will live the life that I am meant to live. Do I understand this completely? Nope. Am I excited to relate to God in the way that He meant for me to, the way, that, indeed, He sacrificed everything to make possible? Yes!

It's Not Us

Continuing in Deuteronomy, with Moses reminding the Israelites of who they are and Who God is. He is urging them not to imagine that the Lord is giving them the Promised Land because of their good deeds or merit (Deuteronomy 9:6):

Know, therefore, that the LORD your God is not giving you this good land to possess because of your righteousness, for you are a stubborn people.

Ouch. I guess God has no illusions about what lies beneath our service and sacrifice--I know that I myself, anyhow, underneath it all, pretty much want what I want and don't like it when I don't get it. I have moments of unselfishness and love because of the good God has put in me, but in my heart remains the tendency to choose what I want. Yet, I am redeemed and God has given me a new heart. . . That paradox, (which Paul apparently understood: Romans 7:19: For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.) makes this life frustrating sometimes. When I mess up, I am tempted to think that God is surprised or disappointed in me. However, God already knows the evil of my heart, and He didn't save me because of my righteousness and He doesn't love me because I am good.

Later on in Deuteronomy 10 (verses 14-16) Moses states it even more clearly:

Behold, to the LORD your God belong heaven and the heaven of heavens, the earth with all that is in it. Yet the LORD set his heart in love on your fathers and chose their offspring after them, you above all peoples, as you are this day. Circumcise therefore the foreskin of your heart, and be no longer stubborn

The Lord chose Israel, and us, because He wanted to. HE decided. Not me. He decided knowing full well the sin and stubbornness of our hearts. Knowing this should be motivation to submit our willful hearts to Him so that we can fully experience His fellowship, but that submission will not increase His love, only our awareness of it.