Josh's Thoughts on Adoption

I believe Scripture, and therefore I believe that our God is a God who is sovereign over all things – even chance meetings, random events, "lucky" breaks, and the smallest details of our lives, especially for those whom he has called to Himself in Jesus Christ (Eph.1.11, 1 Cor.12.6). As such, he has written into my story both a love for and significant contact with cultures unlike my own.

When I was growing up, a Mexican lady named Urma used to keep my brother and me (and Kristin for a little while, I think). Most of what I remember of her is vague - her kind smile, laugh, and sounds of an unfamiliar language in my ears. I do remember feeling safe near her and thinking her dark skin was beautiful. In high school I went to Mexico for the first time. My heart was warmed to be near the people there. They were tragic in many ways, and beautiful like Urma – fiscally poor and culturally rich. Since then, I have spent over three months in Mexico on various mission projects. I have found my heart more and more drawn to this culture, and other international cultures, which are not my own.

I spent three weeks in China before my senior year of high school – there God opened my eyes to yet another beautiful people; but they are a people with hopeless and haunting eyes, who have suffered much at the hands of their government, not least being denied the free proclamation of God's life-giving Word and the basic necessities of life.

My summer living in Peru was more transformative for my life than just about anything I can remember. There I saw poverty like I have never seen – children with skin-rotting diseases which, in the States, would take little more than antibiotics to cure; children living on floating trash heaps, scrounging through weeks-old garbage for shirts, food, anything of value. But there in Peru I also saw deep and profound faith in a God who looks after the poor, and remembers the cause of the helpless (Ps.10.17-18). They found greater strength in Christ's love than I will probably ever know, and I thank God for that gift to them.

While in Peru, I witnessed a missionary family care for a little girl named Erika – she was about one and a half years old. She lived with her mother in the caves of the mountains outside Lima, because they didn't have the money to live even in the squatter-town. After her mother’s death, Erika was adopted by this missionary family, the Reidels. Erika was HIV positive. Two years after leaving Peru, I got an email saying Erika had died from complications with her disease. Strangely, I wept much less than I expected – for two reasons, I suppose. One, I trust the same covenant Lord that the Reidels trust, and know that he looks after widows and orphans even in death. Two, I was disconnected from that life – I was living in Nashville with a busy schedule, things to do, people to please. I wanted to feel the pain that the Reidels felt, but I couldn't, and I was ashamed. I don't want to be disconnected anymore. I don't want to stick my head in the sand, ignoring the way the vast majority of the world lives. I won't ever forget holding Erika, seeing her face smeared with food, and thinking she was beautiful. That is the first time I can remember really imagining myself as a father.

Soon thereafter, Keely and I met the Lost Boys (though I prefer to call them "men," as each of them is a braver man than I could ever hope to be) of Sudan. Our interaction with them again changed my life and heart. I have never seen skin so black that it is almost purple! (they, by the way, rejoice in the fact that they are the darkest people in Africa!) In being with them, Keely and I immediately fell in love with them – their sincere faith in God, their uncanny work ethic, big smiles, and their kind spirits – not to mention the gripping nature of their survival stories from Sudan, with which we are all now familiar. I love these men, and I thank God for having them in my life.

On our preliminary visit to RTS, 8 months before moving here, Keely and I met Kezlon Semanda, a Ugandan pastor, who was studying on the RTS campus. We were amazed by his story – working as a pastor for years on end in Uganda, hoping for a theological education so that he could serve the Lord and his people more faithfully, and finally having the opportunity for that education. But he was here alone, because he didn't have the funds to bring his wife and young children to the States with him. Since being here, the local Body of Christ raised funds for him to bring his family, and Keely and I have come to know their family even better, and have been continually blessed by their friendship. I will not go into all the other foreigners with whom we have become connected here – Chinese, Korean, Tanzanian, Kenyan, or my European friendships, such as with David.

I write all of this simply to demonstrate and to rejoice in how God has woven into the fabric of my life, Keely's life, and our life together, an uncommon connection with and love for those who are not like us. These are more than passing acquaintances, but people who have deeply touched our lives. And over the years, especially after being out of college, I have thought about what my family would be like. Before marrying Keely, I frequently imagined the privilege of adopting a child like Erika, like the children I saw in Mexico and China living in squalid conditions, or possibly a Sudanese boy/girl (I even suggested one time that Keely and I adopt Garang, our closest Sudanese friend, so that he could feel like he had a family here in the States! ). Why do I feel this way? I imagine that all the relationships listed above played a major role. For so long God has allowed me to enjoy the rich diversity of his creation and his people, and has made so many of them feel like a part of my family already, that to imagine having an African, Latino American, Chinese, or any other child calling me "daddy" and Keely "mommy" brings overwhelming joy to my heart. Moreover, I am part of a larger family – God's family, that is made up of every nation, tribe, tongue, and people group (Rev.7.9), so having a child of a different ethnicity brings visible expression to spiritual reality.

When Keely and I first married, we were concerned about the personal risk of Keely bearing a child with MS. In my mind, the risk to her health was too great, and to me, nothing was worth risking her health! But this did not make me sad. In fact, it gave me, and us, more opportunity to think about international adoption, something God had planted in my (and her) heart long before. Over the past three years, I have been amazed at how closely Keely and I think regarding this issue, and I am so grateful to have a wife who has such similar desires. Recently, we have felt more confident that Keely could have children – as both her neurologist in Nashville and in Orlando have expressed little reservation about it. However, we are so excited and thrilled about international adoption, that this news has done nothing to change our minds and hearts about adopting.

All of these pieces God has fit together to bring about our desire for adopting internationally. But there is a greater and more central factor than anything else. More significantly, we belong to an adopting Father. He is a Father who runs after his rebellious children – children who daily turn not to their true Father God, but to lesser gods, to self-serving interests, and to things that will, in the end, only leave them desolate and in despair. God's perfect justice demands an account for our continual sin, and we are left without excuse. Even in all of our rejection of him, he became one of us and bore our guilt and shame in his Son Jesus Christ that we might be freed from slavery to sin and Satan and adopted anew as his sons and daughters. And when Christ dwells in our hearts through faith by his Spirit (Eph.3.17), he daily brings us from death to life (1 Jn.3.14), makes us a new creation (2 Cor.5.17), gives us a new heart (Ezek.36.26), turns us from darkness to light (Eph.5.8), and testifies with our hearts that we are his children, secure in his arms forever (Rom.8.14, Jn.10.28). Paul rejoices and declares that in Christ "we receive adoption as sons…we are no longer slaves, but sons!" (Gal.4.7). And when we are adopted, we receive all the rights of children – we become heirs to all of God's promises in and with his Son (Rom.8.16).

What does all of this mean for our adoption? First, anyone who claims the name of Christ for themselves is themselves adopted – this is no metaphorical adoption either – it is a real adoption into the family of God. Jesus now calls us his brothers or sisters if we have placed our lives in his hands (Heb.2.11). Paul says we were all once "children of wrath…but God being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ" (Eph.2.3-5).

Secondly, it means that we see all things with new eyes. We don't see as the world sees, but we see with a renewed heart and mind that longs to love as Christ has loved us. We see a sin-torn world desperately in need of the renewing love of Jesus Christ. We see over 100 million orphans (mostly in 3rd world poverty) in the world today. Indeed, we still struggle with sin daily, but it is no longer our master, for we have a different Father who will never abandon us as orphans (Jn.14.18). He empowers us to love as we could never love in and of ourselves, for his Spirit lives in us. A person can only truly love when they themselves know they are deeply loved and can rest secure in that love – we have a love in Christ which is more enduring than any other.

Thirdly, we are joyfully obedient to our Father's will. He commands us to look after widows and orphans, even as he has looked after us (James 1.27; Mt.25.35-40). In obedience to him, we prove our adoption as his sons and daughters – and it is a joy to obey his word, for his word gives life to the weary and broken.

Each person must weigh exactly what these (and all) commands of our Lord mean specifically for his/her life – but they are not optional, they are imperative. For us, that means international adoption – the Lord has confirmed this to us through the relationships he has put in our lives, through prayer, through His Word, and through our marriage. Anyone who wishes to question that without serious deliberation is walking on dangerous ground. We cannot stand by, nor do we wish to, while such injustice and tragedy reigns in much of the world. Will our adoption change the world? Unlikely. But will it change the life of a child, or two, or three (and who knows how many through our children), and will it change us? Absolutely. And hopefully our adoption will only be the first step in our involvement with the inexcusable condition within which so many children and adults daily suffer. Will adoption be easy? Of course not – a quick glance at my own heart confirms this – for I am adopted by my heavenly Father, but daily I struggle with doubt, fear, my identity, and I so often run from him. But ultimately, he always draws me home, and I rest secure in his arms again. I imagine it will be similar for our adopted child – struggling with their identity (which kid doesn't?!), questioning many things about their life, etc. But there will also be much joy and laughter in our home that celebrates all of God's goodness toward us both in our struggles and successes.

Why adoption first? We want for our adopted daughter to know that she was chosen first, chosen specifically, and chosen intentionally. If there is one thing we can offer to our adopted child, it will be the fact that we are privileged to be her mom and dad, not that she is privileged to be our child. Our child will know that we wanted her specifically, and that there is no other child whom we would rather call our own. One of the most glorious truths of Scripture is that God has chosen us to be his sons and daughters – he didn't wait until we earned it, didn't "settle" for us, but from all eternity called us to himself in Jesus Christ (Eph.1.4, John 10.14). We want our daughter to know that sort of choosing love from the earliest days of her life.

Moreover, I know myself – I know that there are countless things in the past that I have wanted to pursue (though none compare with adoption), but I haven't pursued them because life got in the way, other things were more important, and when it comes down to it, I often like to take the easy way out. I am afraid that if we do not begin with adoption, we will never adopt. We will have our own biological children, and adoption will fall by the wayside as we think about saving money for their future, getting involved with hectic schedules, etc. We want to begin our family with the child whom God has set apart for us in Ethiopia.

Regarding many of the details about our choice for Ethiopia, Keely has made an excellent list in a document she typed up. She has stated many of the points better than I could hope to. So, look to my teammate's words for further details.

I started out by stating my trust in the sovereignty of God – that He orders all things for his good purposes. The life I have lived is no accident. He has planted in me a longing and love for a family that reflects his own spiritual family in a small way (Rev.7.9). He has given me a wife who not only shares these desires, but without whom I could not imagine fulfilling these dreams. By his mercy we will raise a family that is pleasing to him and a blessing to his world.

"If a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he too will cry out and not be answered" Prov.21.13