Each Saturday, I’ll be devoting my blog post to a reflection on the Scripture I've been reading throughout the week. As I am still in seminary, taking two classes online each semester, I have plenty of reading to reflect upon!
The past few weeks, I have been reading Acts. Or, to be more accurate, I have been listening to Acts. For some reason, the fact that I am such a voracious reader actually hinders me in my Bible study. I tend to read the Word as though it were either fiction or a textbook, neither of which is very helpful. A few years ago, I discovered a fantastic resource—The Bible Experience. It is a CD recording, completely unabridged, of the entire Bible (the NIV version). It is read by some of the world’s most talented actors and actresses, and there are sound effects and music in the background. It is awesome. Something about listening rather than reading really helps me feel immersed in the Word and the world of its writers. I keep it in the car, and it has helped me get through every one of my Bible Exposition classes.
So I’ve been listening to Acts as I drive all over town, particularly as I drive to and from my Foster Parent Licensing classes, which are about an hour away (with traffic). These classes are tough, not in terms of keeping up with the material, but in terms of the way they make you think of all the ways your life is going to drastically change. Half of the couples who began the class have already dropped out. I would bet we’ll lose a few more after a parent last week told the class about her foster son, who smashed every breakable item in her house within fifteen minutes of arriving.
The trauma that has marked these children leaves deep wounds, wounds that express themselves in countless troubling ways. Add to that the stress of keeping every corner of your house and life up to “minimum standards,” of welcoming strangers into your home at any unannounced moment, of loving a child you may have to hand back to a life of suffering, of never knowing if he or she made it safely through childhood after leaving your home. Having any child is profoundly daunting. Serving one of these children is overwhelming. And the most sinful, selfish corner of my soul occasionally whispers, “don’t do it.”
The temptation to turn a blind eye on this suffering, to remain in comfort and the blissful illusion of control, pops its hideous head up into my thoughts every now and again. It is not a strong voice, thank God, though I can certainly imagine it may get stronger as the road gets harder. But it is there.
As I drove home Thursday night, after hearing a seasoned case worker admit that she didn’t think she could “do” foster care because it was so tough (cue widespread panic in the classroom), I heard the following passage from Acts 21:10-14:
“As we were staying there for some days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. And coming to us, he took Paul’s belt and bound his own feet and hands, and said, ‘This is what the Holy Spirit says: ‘In this way the Jews at Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’ When we had heard this, we as well as the local residents began begging him [Paul] not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, ‘What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be bound, but even to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.’ And since he would not be persuaded, we fell silent, remarking, ‘The will of the Lord be done!’”
When I was an atheist, I hated Paul. I thought he was legalistic, misogynistic, and purposefully obtuse in his writing. As a believer, I love Paul. He had strutted through his world, convinced he was doing everything right, and one day the God he thought must be so proud of him strikes him down and rebukes him for being about as wrong as it is possible to be. That experience gave Paul a humility which is sweet to behold. It also gave him a depth of gratitude that few other apostles could emulate. Paul knew just how much of an undeserving wretch he was, and the rescue Jesus offered him was more precious to him than he could ever express.
He knew what it was to strive against Christ, and what it was to strive for Christ. There was no way he was going to abandon the will of God for his own desires ever again after that meeting on the Damascus road. Jesus said of Paul, “I will show him how much he must suffer for My name’s sake.” (Acts 9:16) And Paul suffered greatly throughout his ministry: beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonment, snakebite, more beatings, more imprisonment, betrayal, scorn, not to mention the ignorance, ingratitude, and waywardness of the congregations he served.
He entered into all of this pain with eyes open and heart rejoicing, knowing that each moment of his suffering brought him (and others) closer to Christ. “More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ…” (Philippians 3:8)
Foster parenting may be one of the toughest things I ever undertake, but it’s not exactly a Roman jail now, is it?
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