I don’t have scientific data to back up this theory, but I believe that our emotions grow and develop as we age. Just as the language of a child expands, so (in my experience) does his or her capacity to feel. The emotions of childhood are simpler than the emotions of adulthood, though I would argue that they do not feel simpler to the one experiencing them.
For example, two children are playing. One child has a fire truck. The second child steals the fire truck and the first child is (unfairly) sent to a time out. The first child will be angry, definitely. But I doubt he will feel an anger that fuels long smoldering revenge like the main character in The Count of Monte Cristo.
Another example involves happiness. Children feel happy—indeed I think as we age we lose some of that childhood ability to simply and wholeheartedly delight in something. But extended, not-caused-by-circumstances contentment is something we develop as we grow older.
One thing I have noticed particularly involves crying. A child will cry because of pain, frustration, fatigue, and sometimes sadness. As a child, I could never figure out why my mother seemed to cry so often. Now that I’m grown, I in turn baffle my nieces and nephew when I cry during a touching scene in a book or movie. Children just haven’t developed whatever brain chemistry connection route results in more complex emotions. I am not at all placing a value judgment on this—the emotions of childhood are no less valuable for being less complex. I am just noting the difference because it impacts relationships between children and adults.
The idea that emotions are less complex in children is especially true, I think, when it comes to love. As an adult, I love a largish group of people unconditionally. And there isn’t a quantifiable difference in the amount that I love them—I don’t love one more than another. I may have closer connections to one than another, but at root, the love is the same. That was not true when I was a child. I loved conditionally. I loved in varying amounts. I had favorites. And because that was how I loved, that was how I understood love, and that was how I assumed everyone else loved.
As I grew, my understanding of love grew also. But really the thing that has taught me most about love (and here I mean earthly, human love—how the Gospel taught me a whole new kind of love is another blog post) has been being an aunt. Honestly, before my niece Caroline existed, I did not believe that parents loved their children equally. I just didn’t. I didn’t love my parents or my siblings equally, and I assumed that parents were just being kind when they “pretended” that they loved their children the same amount. I adored my niece Abby, and I honestly worried that things would change if she ever had a sibling. But from the moment I learned of Caroline’s existence (months before she was even born), I loved her. And I literally remember thinking, “Oh! So you do love them equally!” By the time my nephew Will came into the world, I was able to just sit back and marvel at the unending amount of love I felt toward these three tiny strangers.
For some reason, when I was a child I believed love was finite. It seemed possible that it might run out at some point. As an adult, I know that the amount I can love is infinite. There is no limit to the number of people I can unconditionally adore in my lifetime. And that’s pretty awesome.
But what does all this have to do with adoption and foster care? I think it has to do with expectations. Karyn Purvis talks a lot about the importance of “felt safety.” By this she means that parents and caregivers have to work intentionally and consistently to help a child truly feel safe. When you bring a harmed child into what may be the first safe environment she has ever experienced, she won’t automatically “get” that it is safe. And so you have to teach her, in painstaking ways that may seem silly or ridiculous to someone who has not worked with kids from hard places. You have to do things that may seem indulgent or idealistic or like you are “coddling” the child. You have to operate in ways that would potentially “spoil” a child who had not experienced trauma. And you do these things to teach them what “safe” is, and to teach them that they are safe and don’t need to operate out of a fear-based fight to survive.
My somewhat longwinded point in all this is that I believe we have to have similar expectations about children’s experience of love. Children who have been raised in loving, nurturing, trauma-free homes still worry that various people in their lives love them conditionally or in measurable amounts. The familiar demands that every sibling get the exact same portions or time with a toy, etc. are one expression of this concern. When you add trauma, abuse, or neglect to the equation, it’s really astounding that these kids can comprehend love at all. And it is important that parents and caregivers tailor our expectations to their reality. We know that we love them unconditionally, just as we know that they are safe and will be fed, clothed, housed, etc. But they don’t. And so, just as we work to teach them they are safe, we must work (and I think often we must work even harder) to teach them they are loved. Our words, actions, environments, choices, priorities, all must repeat over and over again that we love this child, no matter what, for always.
Perhaps more important than managing our expectations of the children’s awareness of our love for them is managing our expectations of the children’s love for us. As an adult, I am capable of unconditional love. As a child, my love was much more conditional. If I had never experienced love, it would have been even more conditional. And so I think it is vital to enter the experiences of foster care and adoption committed to loving a child even if he/she does not love you back. In adoption, it may take months or years before your child loves you deeply and securely. In foster care, children may leave your care before they come to a point of loving you. That is a tough, tough road to walk. But it is the road that Christ walked, and I am counting on Him to give me the strength to love as He loved, with no conditions, no limits, and no expectations of receiving love in return.
September 30, 2011
September 29, 2011
What My Nieces Have to Say, Part One
Today I have two guest bloggers with me—my nieces, Abby and Caroline!
Abby would like to share that, initially, she was against the idea of my adopting, because she thought it would mean she wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with me as before. But now, she thinks that adoption is cool because it will mean she gets to have a new friend.
Caroline has been excited about it the whole time we’ve been talking about it. In fact, when I first mentioned the plight of orphans in the world to the girls, Caroline’s response was “Why don’t you adopt right now?” And Caroline, like Abby, thinks it would be fun to have a new friend.
[Will just wants to buy a trampoline. Correction: a giant trampoline.]
Caroline thinks that a new cousin would be AWESOME (she requested capital letters!). Caroline also thinks foster care would be cool to learn about.
Abby has always thought foster care would be cool “because it means that kids get to have a temporary home, and they would get to spend time with Carly and eat her special macaroni and cheese. And they would get to go to my grandparents’ house and eat their yummy zucchini bread.”
“Yum!” says Caroline. “Woohoo, foster children!” says Caroline.
Will, yelling, “I want to have a parent named Carly!!!!”
And that’s a wrap, folks. More insight from the next generation tomorrow.
Abby would like to share that, initially, she was against the idea of my adopting, because she thought it would mean she wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with me as before. But now, she thinks that adoption is cool because it will mean she gets to have a new friend.
Caroline has been excited about it the whole time we’ve been talking about it. In fact, when I first mentioned the plight of orphans in the world to the girls, Caroline’s response was “Why don’t you adopt right now?” And Caroline, like Abby, thinks it would be fun to have a new friend.
[Will just wants to buy a trampoline. Correction: a giant trampoline.]
Caroline thinks that a new cousin would be AWESOME (she requested capital letters!). Caroline also thinks foster care would be cool to learn about.
Abby has always thought foster care would be cool “because it means that kids get to have a temporary home, and they would get to spend time with Carly and eat her special macaroni and cheese. And they would get to go to my grandparents’ house and eat their yummy zucchini bread.”
“Yum!” says Caroline. “Woohoo, foster children!” says Caroline.
Will, yelling, “I want to have a parent named Carly!!!!”
And that’s a wrap, folks. More insight from the next generation tomorrow.
September 28, 2011
Quote of the Day
I'm in Vermont visiting my sister and her family, and the hotel wifi isn't working, so I'm typing this on my phone. But I had to share my favorite quotation from today. My nephew Will (he's 4) has a gift for memorable phrases, and he had a great one this morning. After we had been reunited for about an hour (they moved to Vermont from Austin last June, and I'm a very involved aunt), we had the following conversation:
Will: "I wish you were a toy."
Me: "Why is that?"
Will: "Because then I could keep you."
Right back at you, little man. Thanking God for the gift of these three children in my life!
Will: "I wish you were a toy."
Me: "Why is that?"
Will: "Because then I could keep you."
Right back at you, little man. Thanking God for the gift of these three children in my life!
September 26, 2011
John Piper on Adoption, Part Two
5. Adoption brought us, and brings our children, the rights of being heirs of the Father.
"Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God." (Galatians 4:6-7) The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. (Romans 8:16-17)
Notice that Galatians 4:7 says we are heirs “through God” and Romans 8:17 says we are heirs “of God.” In Galatians, the context is the promise of Abraham—through God, that is, by his sending his Son to redeem us, we are heirs with Abraham (even though many of us are Gentiles!) of his inheritance, namely the world (Romans 4:13). But in Romans 8:17, the context is that we, with Christ, are heirs of all that God has, namely, everything. “All things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s” (1 Corinthians 3:21).
Just before we left for England on sabbatical, Noël and I went to a lawyer and updated our wills. All the boys are married, and Talitha is the only legal “dependent.” A lot had changed since the last time we made wills. This was a reminder to us that she will inherit like the sons. She is not in a lesser adoptive class. All inherit together. That is the way God did it. That is the way we do it.
6. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) seriously planned.
"He chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved." (Ephesians 1:4-6)
Adoption in God’s mind was not Plan B. He predestined us for adoption before the creation of the world. Plan A was not lots of children who never sin and never need to be redeemed. Plan A was creation, fall, redemption, adoption so that the full range of God’s glory and mercy and grace could be known by his adopted children. Adoption was not second best. It was planned from the beginning.
In our lives, there is something uniquely precious about having children by birth. That is a good plan. There is also something different, but also uniquely precious, about adopting children. Each has its own uniqueness. Your choice to adopt children may be sequentially second. But it does not have to be secondary. It can be as precious and significant as having children by birth. God is able to make adoption an A+ plan in our lives.
7. Adoption was (for God) and often is now (for us) from very bad situations.
"We . . . were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind." (Ephesians 2:3)
God did not find us like an abandoned foundling bundled on the front step and irresistibly cute. He found us ugly and evil and rebellious. We were not attractive. We would not be easy children to deal with. And, what’s worse, God himself was angry with us. He hates sin and rebellion. We were then doubly “children of wrath.”
These are the ones God pursued in adoption. Therefore, all of God’s adoptions crossed a greater moral and cultural divide than any of our adoptions could. The distance between what we are, and what God is, is infinitely greater than any distance between us and a child we might adopt. God crossed the greatest cultural barrier to redeem and adopt us.
Consider too, that according to Romans 9:4, the people that God chose in the Old Testament, the Israelites, were adopted out of a terrible situation. “They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises.” But how was this adoption effected? Hosea 11:1, “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.” They were slaves in Egypt. But not only that, they were often also rebellious against God. “Our fathers, when they were in Egypt, did not consider your wondrous works; they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled by the sea, at the Red Sea” (Psalm 106:7).
Therefore, God went and took a son from Egypt who was both enslaved and rebellious. The pattern is set: adoptions do not just come from nice, healthy, safe, auspicious situations.
8. Adoption meant (for all Christians) and means (for Christian parents) that we suffer now and experience glory later.
"The whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." (Romans 8:22-23) This strikes us as strange. Aren’t we already adopted? Why does Paul say that we are “waiting for our adoption”? Yes, we are already adopted. When Christ died for us, the price was paid, and when we trust him, we are legally and permanently in the family. But God’s purpose for adoption is not to leave any of his children in a state of groaning and suffering. He raised Jesus from the dead with a new body, and he promises that part of our adoption will be a new resurrection body with no more disabilities and no more groaning. Therefore, what we wait for is the full experience of our adoption—the resurrection of our bodies.
There is much groaning in the path of adoption on the way to full salvation. But the outcome is glorious. It is worth it all. “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). This is especially relevant for parents of children with disabilities. They know the “groaning” of this life. All of us have children with some sort of disability, and some of us will live to get very old and watch our children age and die before we do. Others will see their children struck down in war or by accident or disease. Others will care for a disabled child till one of them dies. All of this groaning is groaning in hope because we are adopted by God and destined for a resurrection and an eternal future of health and wholeness and joy. It will be worth it all.
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website
"Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God." (Galatians 4:6-7) The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. (Romans 8:16-17)
Notice that Galatians 4:7 says we are heirs “through God” and Romans 8:17 says we are heirs “of God.” In Galatians, the context is the promise of Abraham—through God, that is, by his sending his Son to redeem us, we are heirs with Abraham (even though many of us are Gentiles!) of his inheritance, namely the world (Romans 4:13). But in Romans 8:17, the context is that we, with Christ, are heirs of all that God has, namely, everything. “All things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s” (1 Corinthians 3:21).
Just before we left for England on sabbatical, Noël and I went to a lawyer and updated our wills. All the boys are married, and Talitha is the only legal “dependent.” A lot had changed since the last time we made wills. This was a reminder to us that she will inherit like the sons. She is not in a lesser adoptive class. All inherit together. That is the way God did it. That is the way we do it.
6. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) seriously planned.
"He chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved." (Ephesians 1:4-6)
Adoption in God’s mind was not Plan B. He predestined us for adoption before the creation of the world. Plan A was not lots of children who never sin and never need to be redeemed. Plan A was creation, fall, redemption, adoption so that the full range of God’s glory and mercy and grace could be known by his adopted children. Adoption was not second best. It was planned from the beginning.
In our lives, there is something uniquely precious about having children by birth. That is a good plan. There is also something different, but also uniquely precious, about adopting children. Each has its own uniqueness. Your choice to adopt children may be sequentially second. But it does not have to be secondary. It can be as precious and significant as having children by birth. God is able to make adoption an A+ plan in our lives.
7. Adoption was (for God) and often is now (for us) from very bad situations.
"We . . . were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind." (Ephesians 2:3)
God did not find us like an abandoned foundling bundled on the front step and irresistibly cute. He found us ugly and evil and rebellious. We were not attractive. We would not be easy children to deal with. And, what’s worse, God himself was angry with us. He hates sin and rebellion. We were then doubly “children of wrath.”
These are the ones God pursued in adoption. Therefore, all of God’s adoptions crossed a greater moral and cultural divide than any of our adoptions could. The distance between what we are, and what God is, is infinitely greater than any distance between us and a child we might adopt. God crossed the greatest cultural barrier to redeem and adopt us.
Consider too, that according to Romans 9:4, the people that God chose in the Old Testament, the Israelites, were adopted out of a terrible situation. “They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises.” But how was this adoption effected? Hosea 11:1, “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.” They were slaves in Egypt. But not only that, they were often also rebellious against God. “Our fathers, when they were in Egypt, did not consider your wondrous works; they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled by the sea, at the Red Sea” (Psalm 106:7).
Therefore, God went and took a son from Egypt who was both enslaved and rebellious. The pattern is set: adoptions do not just come from nice, healthy, safe, auspicious situations.
8. Adoption meant (for all Christians) and means (for Christian parents) that we suffer now and experience glory later.
"The whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." (Romans 8:22-23) This strikes us as strange. Aren’t we already adopted? Why does Paul say that we are “waiting for our adoption”? Yes, we are already adopted. When Christ died for us, the price was paid, and when we trust him, we are legally and permanently in the family. But God’s purpose for adoption is not to leave any of his children in a state of groaning and suffering. He raised Jesus from the dead with a new body, and he promises that part of our adoption will be a new resurrection body with no more disabilities and no more groaning. Therefore, what we wait for is the full experience of our adoption—the resurrection of our bodies.
There is much groaning in the path of adoption on the way to full salvation. But the outcome is glorious. It is worth it all. “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). This is especially relevant for parents of children with disabilities. They know the “groaning” of this life. All of us have children with some sort of disability, and some of us will live to get very old and watch our children age and die before we do. Others will see their children struck down in war or by accident or disease. Others will care for a disabled child till one of them dies. All of this groaning is groaning in hope because we are adopted by God and destined for a resurrection and an eternal future of health and wholeness and joy. It will be worth it all.
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website
September 25, 2011
John Piper on Adoption, Part One
"What I would like to do is lay out eight similarities between what God did in adoption and what happens in a Christian adoption today. I pray that whether you have adopted, or are engaged in assisting adoptions, or are pondering an adoption, God will use these comparisons to heighten your confidence that God is graciously involved in our adoptions. He has done it himself. He knows what it costs. And He stands ready to support us all the way to the end.
1. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) costly.
“When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” (Galatians 4:4-5) To redeem means to obtain or to set free by paying a price. What was the price that God paid for our liberation and adoption? In the previous chapter, we heard the answer: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree’” (Galatians 3:13). It cost God the price of his Son’s life.
There are huge costs in adopting children. Some are financial; some are emotional. There are costs in time and stress for the rest of your life. You never stop being a parent till you die. And the stresses of caring about adult children can be as great, or greater, than the stresses of caring for young children. There is something very deep and right about the embrace of this cost for the life of a child!
Few things bring me more satisfaction than seeing a culture of adoption flourish at Bethlehem. It means that our people are looking to their heavenly Father for their joy rather than rejecting the stress and cost of children in order to maximize their freedom and comforts. When people embrace the pain and joy of children rather than using abortion or birth control simply to keep children away, the worth of Christ shines more visibly. Adoption is as far as possible from the mindset that rejects children as an intrusion. Praise God for people ready to embrace the suffering—known and unknown. God’s cost to adopt us was infinitely greater than any cost we will endure in adopting and raising children.
2. Adoption did (for God) and does (for us) involve the legal status of the child.
“When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:4-6) There were legal realities God had to deal with. His own justice and law demanded that we be punished and excluded from his presence for our sins. Righteousness was required and punishment demanded. God had to satisfy his justice and his law in order to adopt sinners into his family. This he did by the life, death, and resurrection of his Son Jesus Christ.
This means that the status of being a son legally preceded the experience of the Spirit coming to give us the affections of sons. We are legally sons before we experience the joy of sonship. The object work of our salvation (two thousand years ago at Calvary) precedes and grounds the subjective experience of our salvation by the Spirit today.
So it is with our adopting children today: The legal transactions precede and under gird the growth of family feelings. If the legal red tape seems long and hard, keep in mind that this tape is not yet red with your blood, but Jesus satisfied all the legal demands precisely by shedding his blood.
3. Adoption was blessed and is blessed with God’s pouring out a Spirit of sonship.
“Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:6) “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” (Romans 8:15-16)
God does not leave us in the condition of aliens when he adopts us. He does not leave us with no feelings of acceptance and love. Rather, he pours his Spirit into our hearts to give us the experience of being embraced in the family. What is remarkable about these two texts is the term abba. It is an Aramaic word. Why then does Paul use it, transliterated, in these two letters written in Greek?
The answer is that it was the way Jesus spoke to his Father, in spite of the fact that virtually no one in Jewish culture referred to God with this endearing word abba. It stunned the disciples. They held onto it as a precious remnant of the very voice of Jesus in the language he spoke. In Mark 14:36, Jesus is in Gethsemane and prays, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Therefore, in adopting us, God gives us the very Spirit of his Son and grants us to feel the affections of belonging to the very family of God.
In the mercy of God, in our families God works to awaken affections in adopted children for their parents that are far more than legal outcomes. They are deeply personal and spiritual bonds. Adopted children do not infer that they are our children by checking out the adoption papers. A spirit pervades our relationship that bears witness to this reality. Like the other children in the family, they all cry, “Daddy.”
Praise God that he give us both legal standing as his children and the very Spirit of his Son so that we find ourselves saying from a heart of deep conviction, “Abba, Father.”
4. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) marked by moral transformation through the Spirit.
“All who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.” (Romans 8:14) God does not leave his children without help to bear the moral image of the family. We may trust that his help will be there for our children as we bring them under the means of grace that God uses to awaken and transform his children.
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website
1. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) costly.
“When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” (Galatians 4:4-5) To redeem means to obtain or to set free by paying a price. What was the price that God paid for our liberation and adoption? In the previous chapter, we heard the answer: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree’” (Galatians 3:13). It cost God the price of his Son’s life.
There are huge costs in adopting children. Some are financial; some are emotional. There are costs in time and stress for the rest of your life. You never stop being a parent till you die. And the stresses of caring about adult children can be as great, or greater, than the stresses of caring for young children. There is something very deep and right about the embrace of this cost for the life of a child!
Few things bring me more satisfaction than seeing a culture of adoption flourish at Bethlehem. It means that our people are looking to their heavenly Father for their joy rather than rejecting the stress and cost of children in order to maximize their freedom and comforts. When people embrace the pain and joy of children rather than using abortion or birth control simply to keep children away, the worth of Christ shines more visibly. Adoption is as far as possible from the mindset that rejects children as an intrusion. Praise God for people ready to embrace the suffering—known and unknown. God’s cost to adopt us was infinitely greater than any cost we will endure in adopting and raising children.
2. Adoption did (for God) and does (for us) involve the legal status of the child.
“When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:4-6) There were legal realities God had to deal with. His own justice and law demanded that we be punished and excluded from his presence for our sins. Righteousness was required and punishment demanded. God had to satisfy his justice and his law in order to adopt sinners into his family. This he did by the life, death, and resurrection of his Son Jesus Christ.
This means that the status of being a son legally preceded the experience of the Spirit coming to give us the affections of sons. We are legally sons before we experience the joy of sonship. The object work of our salvation (two thousand years ago at Calvary) precedes and grounds the subjective experience of our salvation by the Spirit today.
So it is with our adopting children today: The legal transactions precede and under gird the growth of family feelings. If the legal red tape seems long and hard, keep in mind that this tape is not yet red with your blood, but Jesus satisfied all the legal demands precisely by shedding his blood.
3. Adoption was blessed and is blessed with God’s pouring out a Spirit of sonship.
“Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:6) “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” (Romans 8:15-16)
God does not leave us in the condition of aliens when he adopts us. He does not leave us with no feelings of acceptance and love. Rather, he pours his Spirit into our hearts to give us the experience of being embraced in the family. What is remarkable about these two texts is the term abba. It is an Aramaic word. Why then does Paul use it, transliterated, in these two letters written in Greek?
The answer is that it was the way Jesus spoke to his Father, in spite of the fact that virtually no one in Jewish culture referred to God with this endearing word abba. It stunned the disciples. They held onto it as a precious remnant of the very voice of Jesus in the language he spoke. In Mark 14:36, Jesus is in Gethsemane and prays, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Therefore, in adopting us, God gives us the very Spirit of his Son and grants us to feel the affections of belonging to the very family of God.
In the mercy of God, in our families God works to awaken affections in adopted children for their parents that are far more than legal outcomes. They are deeply personal and spiritual bonds. Adopted children do not infer that they are our children by checking out the adoption papers. A spirit pervades our relationship that bears witness to this reality. Like the other children in the family, they all cry, “Daddy.”
Praise God that he give us both legal standing as his children and the very Spirit of his Son so that we find ourselves saying from a heart of deep conviction, “Abba, Father.”
4. Adoption was (for God) and is (for us) marked by moral transformation through the Spirit.
“All who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.” (Romans 8:14) God does not leave his children without help to bear the moral image of the family. We may trust that his help will be there for our children as we bring them under the means of grace that God uses to awaken and transform his children.
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website
September 24, 2011
Scripture Saturday: Acts
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?
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?
September 22, 2011
Wise Words
At my Foster Parent Licensing class this evening, there was a woman who has been fostering children for 18 years. She brought her current four foster children with her, and they played in an adjoining room while we had class. At the end of the session, the trainer asked her to share a bit about her experiences.
As she told the story of one of her foster children, she mentioned that he had gone around her house on his arrival, smashing his fist into every wall and window. With a light chuckle, she explained that she has a handy-man 'on-call' to handle the house damage she has come to expect. And then, in a more serious tone, she said, "I'm interested in repairing hearts. I can get someone else to repair walls and windows. It's repairing hearts that matters."
Wise, wise, wise.
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you;
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry, and he will say, 'Here I am.'
If you take away the yoke from your midst,
the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the LORD will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.
And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to dwell in.
Isaiah 58:6-12
As she told the story of one of her foster children, she mentioned that he had gone around her house on his arrival, smashing his fist into every wall and window. With a light chuckle, she explained that she has a handy-man 'on-call' to handle the house damage she has come to expect. And then, in a more serious tone, she said, "I'm interested in repairing hearts. I can get someone else to repair walls and windows. It's repairing hearts that matters."
Wise, wise, wise.
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you;
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry, and he will say, 'Here I am.'
If you take away the yoke from your midst,
the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the LORD will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.
And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to dwell in.
Isaiah 58:6-12
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