No Such Thing As Strangers

To my children, there are no strangers.

We have visited dozens of homes and churches and people in the last 4 months. And of course, everyone already knows who they are. Everyone is a friend. Both Grace and Josiah will now hug and kiss anyone on command. In fact, they will do so even not on command. When they are leaving a home, they automatically hug and kiss everyone in the room. They’ve figured out that’s just what you do.

This does have some ill effects. At the park one day, Grace asked a total stranger to push her on the swings. At Disneyland last week, my kids socialized with everyone around them. (“My name is Grace; What’s your name?”) I’m kind of surprised they didn’t start hugging and kissing them as well.

They’ve loved it. Quite often when they pray, they thank God for their new friends.


What We’ve Been Showing

Adopted for Life by Russell Moore


If you are considering adoption or have adopted or are adopted, read this book.

If you have a family member or friend who is adopting and you want to know how to help them, read this book.

If you are a believer who wants to better understand your identity in Christ, read this book.

I’ve read numerous books on adoption over the years, and this is by far the best. Author Russell Moore starts with our adoption as believers into the family of God. His descriptions are beautiful and powerful and life-changing. Though I don’t agree with every single statement he makes, I still highly recommend this book.

Good stuff:

“In this book I want to call us all to consider how encouraging adoption–whether we adopt or whether we help others adopt–can help us peer into the ancient mystery of our faith in Christ and can help us restore the fracturing unity and the atrophied mission of our congregations.”

“Sometimes people will speak of children who’ve been adopted as prone to having an ‘identity crisis’ at some point in their lives….this kind of crisis of identity isn’t limited to children who’ve been adopted. All of us are looking to discover who we really are, whether we were born into loving homes or abandoned at orphanage doors, whether we were born into stable families or born, like our Lord, in a stable.”

“Imagine for a moment that you’re adopting a child. As you meet with the social worker in the last stage of the process, you’re told that this twelve-year-old has been in and out of psychotherapy since he was three. He persists in burning things and attempting repeatedly to skin kittens alive. He ‘acts out sexually,’ the social worker says, although she doesn’t really fill you in on what that means. She continues with a little family history. This boy’s father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all had histories of violence, ranging from spousal abuse to serial murder….Think for a minute. Would you want this child?

Well, he’s you. And he’s me. That’s what the gospel is telling us. Our birth father has fangs. And left to ourselves, we’ll show ourselves to be as serpentine as he is.”

“Adoption would become a priority in our churches if our churches themselves saw our brotherhood and sisterhood in the church itself rather than in our fleshly identities.”

“The whole universe is now an orphanage.”

“We don’t believe that our new Father will feed us, so we hang on to our scraps and long for the regimented schedules of the orphanage from which we’ve come.”

“The real struggle for me shouldn’t be the occasional rude question about my son’s identity; it should be the ongoing question about my own.”

“Imagine if Christian churches were known as the places where unwanted babies become beloved children.”

“The contemporary Planned Parenthood movement was started by a woman named Margaret Sanger, who defended abortion rights on the basis of eugenics, the search for ‘good genes’ based on the racist and evolutionary notions of ‘social Darwinism’ prevalent in her day. Sanger’s grandson, Alexander, continues her viewpoint, updated with contemporary notions of sociobiology, in virulent opposition to the viability of an adoption culture–on Darwinist grounds. ‘Adoption is counter-intuitive from an evolutionary vantage point of both the biological mother and the adoptive parents,’ Sanger argues. ‘Adoption requires a person to devote time and resources to raising a child that is not genetically related. Adoption puts the future of a child in the control of a stranger.’ It’s easier for a woman to have an abortion, Sanger argues, or for a family to refuse to think about adopting because evolution and biology ‘conspire to thwart adoption. Evolution has programmed women to be nurturers of the children they bear.’ That why, the abortion industry heir contends, adoption ‘as the solution to the abortion problem is a cruel hoax.'”

“What better opportunity for you to model the God who adopts from every tongue, tribe, nation, and language and sets all the children together at the same table with the same inheritance and and the same love?”

The Lure of Other Paths

When it’s all been said and done
There is just one thing that matters
Did I do my best to live for truth?
Did I live my life for You?

I love being home. I love seeing my family all the time; I love seeing my kids interact with their grandparents. I love being with an amazing church family and so many friends. I love all the options in grocery stores. I love not feeling sweaty all the time. I love being able to sleep at night without fear of armed robbery.

We’ve done a lot of traveling these past few months; all over California. We’ve visited so many homes in many cities. And there are times I feel the pull of this life. Wouldn’t it be nice to live closer to family? Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a small town in the California mountains? Or downtown in a big city? To have my own house? To be able to attend a Bible study for moms?

It does attract me. Long ago, in college, I couldn’t fathom the idea of living in the States. But now that I am married and have kids and have spent a number of years trying to figure out how to live in a third world country, I must say that this life lures me. A couple of weeks ago, as we were on a long drive through the beautiful Northern California mountains, I asked God, “Don’t you want to call us here?” But nope. No call. Not even a smidgen. I couldn’t think of a single reason why God would want us to live there. It was kind of disappointing.

So, I am packing my bags. I am dreading leaving, but I am not dreading going back. Times like this are good, because they make me evaluate and re-evaluate why we are doing what we are doing. Why we would go halfway across the world away from our families and only get to see them every couple of years. Why we would purposely choose a low salary (by American standards only) and be willing to deal with electricity problems and heat and mosquitoes and a culture that we do not understand.

So why is that?

Because it is a perfect fit for us. Because there is a need that we can perfectly fill. And that makes us called.

And thus, I remember

That this life is not all there is. Heaven is yet to come.

That joy comes through sacrifice.

That by losing my life I will save it.

Piper writes, “Missions is gain! Hundredfold gain!”

Amen.

When it’s all been said done
All my treasures will mean nothing
Only what I’ve done for love’s reward
Will stand the test of time

(When It’s All Been Said and Done by Don Moen)

MK Narcissism

It’s hard enough convincing your small child that she is not the center of the universe. It’s even harder when she is an MK.

I remember being in fourth grade, right before my parents returned to Liberia for their second term, that I walked into my Sunday School class one day and the entire bulletin board was devoted to me. AND they took up a collection that day, AND used it to by a radio for me. Talk about being the center of attention. At least I was old enough to know I was not the center of the universe.

And now it’s happening to my kids, except they are a lot younger. It’s missions month at our home church, and when Grace walked into her Sunday School class yesterday, the bulletin board was devoted to our family. Grace noticed: “Look, Mommy, that’s us!” As if it’s normal to have your family’s picture on your Sunday School class bulletin board. She told me afterwards that the teacher had her show the class where Tanzania is on the map. I said, “What did you say you can do in Tanzania?” She said, “I told them you can play with toys there.”

Whenever we visit someone’s house (which is often these days), our family picture is on the refrigerator. Whenever we go to a church, our family picture is in the hallway. Whenever she sees gifts, she assumes they are for her. They usually are.

Oh my. You are not the center of the universe, child. But I’m sure you don’t believe me.

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