Month: November 2015

The Archer’s Aim

Psalm 127:3-5

 “Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.
How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them…”

Children are indeed a gift, a blessing, a heritage from the Lord—like arrows in a quiver. But this analogy raises an important point: an arrow’s aim is only as true as the archer’s. Sometimes I’m not sure that I’m getting it right. I don’t always know what footwear is going to be appropriate. I occasionally forget to brush the kids’ teeth in the morning. I don’t always know which battles are worth fighting, and which I should let go. There are a lot of responsibilities and decisions to juggle as a parent—just to keep the kids fed, clothed, rested and safe.

More importantly, we as parents are responsible for aiming our children in the direction of truth, righteousness, and love. Their spiritual development rests largely in our hands. It isn’t something that we can pawn off on others—grandparents, Sunday school teachers, youth leaders, motivational speakers. And in order to point our children in toward the paths they ought to take, we must ourselves be moving in that same direction.

To be sure, none of us have—or will ever have—arrived at the destination of perfect holiness, godliness, or righteousness. The process of sanctification will end only on that day when we see the Father and are made whole in Him and in His presence. And until then, we will stumble and fall and fail. But our aim MUST be true. Our words and actions must reflect hearts tuned into God’s. Our kids need to see Jesus in us.

I pray that God would mold all of us into the kinds of parents, or archers, who will be able to aim our children toward a saving relationship with Jesus and a deep love for God and other people. In the meantime, I take comfort in this: There is a sinless archer, One who never misses His mark, and One who chose my kids (now and future) for me and me for them because He knows that we each need exactly what one another has to offer. And during this season of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for this truth.

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Jesus Said, “Love.”

There, but by the grace of God, go I.

I don’t know a lot about world news. Let’s be honest, I don’t know much about national or local news either. Ever since I switched to Outlook as my e-mail platform, and no longer regularly see the Yahoo! News postings, I’m pretty much in the dark. And yet, it didn’t escape my attention that last Friday, Paris fell victim to multiple terrorist attacks. I knew because the media coverage of events was nonstop. I knew because Facebook friends near and far changed their profile pictures in solidarity, and posted prayer requests and sympathy notes. My first inkling that something had happened was actually a status update from a friend in Paris, letting us all know that she and her family were safe. Praise God!

But then, a bit later, I saw a post that convicted me (https://newmatilda.com/2015/11/14/paris-attacks-highlight-western-vulnerability-and-our-selective-grief-and-outrage/). In this post, Chris Graham accused the Western world of selective outrage, stating that, “Meanwhile, in a brown part of the world, as the attacks began in Paris, Lebanon was just emerging from a National Day of Mourning, after 43 people were killed and 200 more were injured during a series of coordinated suicide bombings in Beirut.” He also highlighted an attack 11 months ago, in which “Boko Haram razed the town of Baja in Nigeria, killing more than 2,000 people.” He went on to tell about several other heinous crimes against humanity that received very little popular or media attention. And then he asked a poignant question: “How do we explain our indifference to the suffering of people we perceive as different, Lebanese, African, Hazara, Muslim…. Brown people?”

The sober answer is, “I don’t know.” But I know it’s wrong. Sure, France is an ally—a friend. Sure some of us have visited there, or have friends who live there. But are we justified in dismissing suffering just because it happens in a place we’ve never been before? Or in a war-torn country where it “happens every day”? You know, many of the people killed in these terrorist attacks in the non-Western world are innocent civilians, casualties of war. But even those who are not, even those whose hearts and actions are bent on malice, even those are among the fallen humanity that Jesus died to save. We should pray for redemption and salvation for ALL. And we should see and be heartbroken over ALL suffering. Period.

After all, “God so loved the WORLD, that He gave his only begotten son, that WHOSOEVER believes in Him shall not parish, but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

Dear Prospective Birth Mother

Dear Prospective Birth Mother,

For years, I’ve dreamed of one day adopting a baby. I’ve spent time praying for him or her—and that God would bring us just the right child and that we would be uniquely qualified, gifted, and equipped to care for him or her. I’ve prayed that we might be instrumental in helping them become everything that God has created them to be.

But for a while now, I’ve been thinking of and praying for you. No doubt you are in the midst of making some of the most difficult decisions that you’ve ever had to make—that you ever will have to make. The decision to entrust the life and care of your baby—your own flesh and blood—to a couple of virtual strangers must be both terrifying and heart-wrenching. At the same time as you experience those fears, questions, and uncertainties, though, you are probably overwhelmed with hope, dreaming of the many wonderful opportunities that your child may have as a result of this bravest of choices.

Of course, the other burden that falls on you, a responsibility that no mother should have to bear, is CHOOSING which couple of strangers will be the best fit for your child. That is a choice that I can’t even fathom—and again, you show immeasurable courage by undertaking that responsibility. A couple of women come to mind whose stories you may find encouraging. In Exodus 2:1-10, we find the story of Moses’ mother—who placed her baby boy in a basket in a river, in hopes that he would be adopted by one of Pharaoh’s daughters. As a result of this act, Moses was used mightily by God—as an instrument of His emancipation. In another story, in 1 Samuel 2, Hannah—a woman who had long struggled with infertility, pleaded with God for a child, vowing to in turn return that child to the service of the Lord. And that is just what she did; she entrusted him to Eli the priest. Again, her son became a powerful instrument for God’s purposes.

Neither mother knew their children’s adoptive parents well. But they did know God—and they trusted in His faithfulness to care for their beloved children. And through challenges and trials that those mothers would never have wished upon their sons, God carried them safely home and into eternal rest.

Still, your decision weighs heavily upon you. It’s unsettling, to be sure. So let me leave you with a couple of verses that I believe God has given me to share with you:

  • “If anyone lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” (James 1:5; NIV)
  • “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” (Isaiah 26:3; NLT)
  • “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!” (Matthew 7:11)

I hope these verses bring you hope and peace. Know that you remain in my thoughts and prayers, and that you have my deepest respect and admiration. Be strong in spirit, but humble before the Lord—and He will surely guide you, now and for all of your days.

With Love,

Brooklynn

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The Love of the Father

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God’s heart is most certainly beyond our ability to comprehend this side of heaven. But I love how He offers glimpses into Himself through our experiences. You become a parent and all of a sudden begin to understand God’s love for His only begotten son. You see a beautiful sunset in Hawaii (as we hope to soon)—or out your back door at home in Waco—and you see a faint portrait of God’s creativity and artistry. You commit the unforgivable sin and begin to see the depths of God’s mercy. You battle with a strong-willed child who is just like you, and you start to get a picture of the patience that God shows you daily. A stranger shows you ridiculous kindness, and in so doing reflects the kindness of one who is infinitely greater. You make a sacrifice that seems impossible and you finally have just an inkling of the sacrifice made by our savior.

But in spite of my experiences, the glimpses He’s given me, there is (at least) one thing I still don’t quite understand. I don’t quite get God’s love for ME. I get sacrificial love, unconditional love even. I (sort of) get God’s love for Jesus, his OWN son. But fathom as I may, a just can’t fully grasp His love for me. After all, according to Scripture, I am a daughter of God only through His willingness to adopt me into His family.

Romans 8:15-17

For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.

Galatians 3:26

For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.

Galatians 4:7-9

Therefore you are no longer a slave, but a son; and if a son, then an heir through God.

God, of course, chooses the gifts He gives to whom. But what a blessing and gift to be chosen as an adoptive parent—to be given the unique ability to see your precious child and yourself through God’s eyes. If that’s you, don’t take it for granted. Treasure every moment!

Changing the Narrative

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Well, y’all, it’s November again, probably my favorite blogging month of the year. That’s because it’s Adoption Awareness Month. And that means I’ll be writing a month’s worth of blog entries on my thoughts, feelings, and prayers regarding adoption. Whether or not adoption turns out to be in God’s plan for OUR family, my hope is that these words will encourage others who have gone through, are going through, or are considering going through the process of adoption.

When I tell people I have a desire to adopt one day, one of the most common questions I’m asked is, “Why?” The truth is, I sometimes have difficulty answering the “why” question. Of course, I want to provide a good home to a child who might not otherwise have one. And of course, I love the life we’ve made and want to share our memories and experiences with another child—I mean, we are blessed to be a blessing, right? But thanks to one of my students this semester, I recently realized another dimension of that desire.

You see, we have two kids—a boy and a girl. That’s exactly what we wanted, exact birth order and everything. And yet, the possibility of adoption continues to cross our minds. And apparently, that’s pretty uncommon. I know that our local adoption agency says that the majority of adoptive parents have struggled with infertility. But evidently, according to the “research,” this trend is more widespread than one agency, one locale. In fact, research studying families comprised of both biological and adopted children is quite rare, simply because there are so few of such families out there.

One unintended consequence of this is that a stigma now exists, whereby adoption is seen by many as a “second choice” or even a “last resort.” And that’s not me talking, that’s the research. Now, please don’t misunderstand me. This is not the view among all adoptive parents. Even among those for whom adoption was not a first choice, many would now likely assert that they wouldn’t have it any other way, that they wouldn’t trade their child or children for anyone or anything.

And yet, the stigma persists. So people ask, “Why would you adopt, when you have children of your own?” And they will continue to ask. Until people begin to see families in their neighborhoods, communities, and churches pursue adoption purely out of a desire to do so, they will continue to ask why. Until people stop viewing these families as the exception, they will continue to remain as such. To change the stigma, we need to change the narrative. I think that part of what drives my desire to adopt is my desire to be part of that change. Perhaps one day, we will be. In the meantime, may I encourage you to reject any stigma that paints a picture of adoption as an inferior pursuit, for it is anything but.