It's Not About Me

We have questioned so many times why God called us to this particular work.  We know He did.  He orchestrated this.  But of all the people in the world, why us for this particular child?  We have, what we've been told by numerous professionals, a "hard one."

In our struggles, I have turned to my friend Jim for council, encouragement, friendship...and free therapy.  In one of our recent conversations, as I lamented about not being equipped for the latest round of trials with our son, Jim said, "You've prayed over time about so many things that you wanted the Lord to do - He's delivering.  He's putting you in that place now.  He's answering your prayers!"  We both chuckled.  He went on, "You know, maybe you asked to be become better at spiritual warfare.  Maybe you said you wanted to know Him more."  I interjected, "We asked that our hearts would break over what breaks His and that it wouldn't be about us."

Jim said, "Ha!  That's a death sentence!"  A death to flesh.

Fast-forward a handful of days.  I'm at the kitchen sink, no one else is home but the baby, my son, and me.  I'm attempting to tend to the dishes for about the hundredth time that morning.  I'm spent.  I have nothing left in the tank.  I feel lonely.  I'm wondering, "Will we ever go on a *real* vacation ever again where it doesn't feel more like work than a break?"  I hear from the other room, "Daddy?  Blup, blup, blup.  Daddy?  Blup, blup, blup, blup."  Ugh...more chatter.  "I'm not here, please leave a message," I thought to myself.  I continued on washing a few plates wondering, "Will we ever be empty-nesters?"  I was interrupted in my wanderings again as the volume increased to a level I just could no longer ignore, even in my unconscious state.  "Mommy bye-bye, June-Abby-June-Abby-June-Abby bye-bye.  Mommy, June, Mommy, June, Abby, June, Abby, blup blup blup."  Constant.  Back to wandering..."Will those dark circles subside under my eyes?  What about my wife's puffy eyes?  Will we always look like heroin addicts on botox?  This feeling of every nerve in my body being exposed - will that last forever?  Will I ever enjoy waking up ever again and facing a new day?"

Then again I hear, "Daddy? Daddy pee-pee."

"Wait."

"Ok."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy pee-pee."

"Wait."

"Ok."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy? Daddy pee-pee."

"Wait."

2 seconds pass.

"Daddy?  Daddy - wait."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy?  Daddy - wait."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy? Daddy pee-pee."

"Elijah, wait, ok?"

"Ok."

2 seconds pass.

"Daddy - wait."

5 seconds pass.

 "Daddy?  Daddy - wait."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy.  Daddy?  Daddy, jah, daddy, jah, daddy, jah....ok."

2 seconds pass.

"Daddy!  Mommy bye-bye.  Daddy? Dad?  Dad.  Dad!  Mommy, mommy, mommy bye-bye."

5 seconds pass.

"Daddy?  Pee-pee.  Daddy?  Daddy?  Daddy - wait.  Wait!"

And so it goes...

See, here's the real story behind things like 'pee-pee'.  And there are so many stories behind everything here.  Nothing is as it seems.  'Pee-pee' is typically code word in a situation like this for "I'm bored and everyone has left the room.  I'm in need of attention.  Now!  I know I've only been sitting here for 30 seconds without attention, but that is 30 seconds too long."  And if you don't give that attention - BOOM!  Defiance.  At least negative attention is still attention, right?

I get the "why."  I do.  That doesn't necessarily help nor prevent the nerve grinding.

I'm spent.  Done.

Then I heard that "still, small voice" say, "Remember what Jim said - you'd prayed for...?  He's right - you said, it's not about you."

It's not about me.

I've said it, heard it preached, preached it myself, my wife even has the t-shirt!  Now I'm living it.  I don't really like it.  Funny how God answers our prayers...

Lessons from the Trenches: James 1 With New Eyes

Since embarking on this adoption journey, I've been very familiar with James 1:27.  But this week I decided to do a little study of the passage in it's context.  Some amazing things lept from the pages.  This is the passage from the Mirror Translation:

It was his delightful resolve to give birth to us; we were conceived by the unveiled logic of God.  We lead the exhibition of his handiwork, like first fruits introducing the rest of the harvest he anticipates. Consequently my beloved brethren,  (when you are faced with temptation and contradiction) ponder the Word that reveals your true origin, do not ponder the problem; that is how frustration is conceived. Rather remain silent than to give anger your voice.  (Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.)  Anger distorts the picture and brings no credit to compliment God’s righteousness. Get rid of any remaining residue of evil that polluted your life before.  Welcome with sensitive embrace the word that powerfully conceives salvation in your soul.  (The inner man, your mind and emotion.)  By being a mere spectator in the audience you underestimate yourself (you come to an inferior conclusion about who you really are) . You are God’s poem; let his voice make poetry of your life!  The difference between a mere spectator and a participator is that both of them hear the same voice and perceive in its message the face of their own genesis reflected as in a mirror; they realize that they are looking at themselves, but for the one it seems just too good to be true, he departs   (back to his old way of seeing himself)never giving another thought to the man he saw there in the mirror.   The other one is mesmerized by what he sees; he is captivated by the effect of a law that frees man from the obligation to the old written code that restricted him to his own efforts and willpower. No distraction or contradiction can dim the impact of what he sees in that mirror concerning the law of perfect liberty (the law of faith) that now frees him to get on with the act of living the
life (of his original design.) He finds a new spontaneous lifestyle; the poetry of practical living.  (The law of perfect liberty is the image and likeness of God revealed in Christ, now redeemed in man as in a mirror. Look deep enough into that law of faith that you may see there in its perfection a portrait that so resembles the original that he becomes distinctly visible in the spirit of your mind and in the face of every man you behold...Meaningless conversation is often disguised in religious eloquence. Just because it sounds sincere, doesn't make it true. If your tongue is not bridled by what your heart knows to be true about you, you cheat yourself.  The purest and most uncompromised form of religious expression, is found at its source. God is the Father of mankind (para, a preposition indicating close proximity, a thing proceeding from a sphere of influence, with a suggestion of union of place of residence, to sprung from its author and giver, originating from, denoting the point from which an action originates, intimate connection). He inspires one to take a genuine interest in helping the fatherless (orphans) and the widows in their plight, and to make sure that one’s own life does not become blemished in the process. 

 So building on this week's breakthrough in my relationship with Father, I realized that while mesmerized by what I saw, and wanting to reflect Him more, anger and frustration was causing me to do more spectating than doing.  But that has changed.  I can see now the poetry He is beginning to write.  The problem comes when faced with the cost.  Jesus said it would take it all.  And it does.  Ouch!  So here we are, putting everything "on the altar" of sorts, giving up homeschooling, going out as a family, different activities, church as a family, and even sitting and eating a meal together.  We've had to let it go.  No expectations.  Entitled to nothing.  We're in this to redeem - to be used by God to bring redemption in the earth.  But as I let go and surrender to Him what it takes to restore this little guy in our home, I can't help but feel a little resentful.  And I find myself considerably offended multiple times throughout the day as our little guy "protects himself" by pulling back, rejecting us, and hurting us with his words and his actions.  So I find myself focused on the problem.  James says, "ponder the Word that reveals your true origin, do not ponder the problem; that is how frustration is conceived."  I was frustrated.  Why?  I was focused on the problem and I forgot who I was.  I am man, He is God.  I wanted to control the outcome, but I don't get to do that.  To the degree I was frustrated with our little guy's unwillingness to relinquish control of his life to us was directly correlated to my inability to relinquish control to a heavenly Father waiting to love us in and through our situation.  And as I remained frustrated, I could feel bitterness beginning to take root.  James said "to make sure that one’s own life does not become blemished in the process."  James must have known this caring for the fatherless would take quite a lot of work!

Lessons From the Trenches: The Joy of the Breakthrough!

Let me apologize up front.  This is out of order.  I have 4 more entries awaiting publishing, but I proofread them and they just look like they were written by an angry, bitter guy.  So context will come within the few days...but hopefully written from the perspective of a guy with a little more grace and peace.

So we've been pleading with God, going bonkers with anxieties and fears, and having way more questions than answers in the last few months.  Questions of "what will we do if he never comes around - never really attaches or acts like a son?"  I can hear the cliches concerning "God's will" concerning our situation - things are bad so we must have missed something or done something wrong or didn't prepare sufficiently.  I don't think things are that cut-and-dry.  Sometimes we can do everything "right" and it still turns out badly in our human eyes.  The events over the last year have really changed by perspective.  We live in a fallen world and bad stuff happens everyday, all the time.  God is with us.  Truth is absolute; my understanding of Truth is not.  I see dimly.  


I'm also haunted by the words of a great friend who said his son, similar to ours but 25 years ago, never came around.  His son opted to live in defiance.  My friend is broken still today.  I don't want to be him - I don't want that story.  That scares me.  But God showed me something - it took 4 months to really understand fully before the lightbulb finally went off.  Of all my friends who love the Lord and are walking with Him, there is one friend in particular whom I would say I look to, honor, and respect the most.  He's a true spiritual giant in the land.  He's gained great wisdom over the years, and he's finishing strong now in his 70's.  He doesn't have a mega-ministry, a radio show, or some great following.  But it is this friend that I look at his relationship with his wife and how he cherishes her - I want that.  It is this friend that I turn to for wisdom - he has a ton of it, but says he has none.  It is this friend whom I respect his understanding of spiritual warfare the most.  It is this friend who has the prodigal son whom he's still waiting to come home and his heart still aches.  And it is this friend whom I envy the most with his relationship with the Lord.  He knows God, and God showed me why - my friend became a friend of God through embracing his trials that he endured throughout his life.  He lived through the heartbreak of having a son who never really came around.  He gained God's perspective of how He sees us - He loves us all,  we're His sons and His daughters, but some of us just never come around.  My friend is continually telling me, "Don't focus on circumstances, focus on what He is doing in and through you through circumstances."  I get it.

This walk is supposed to be about deepening a relationship with Him.  Sometimes relationships hurt.  I asked to become a friend of God.  He is faithful.  We are so new in this process of adoption and we still have hope of things coming around.  A breakthrough came this week - my fears and the cloud with it has been lifted.  No matter the outcomes of trials in life and how it doesn't look like what we expected, He loves me and will continue to teach me to trust in His love throughout this journey!

Through the Eyes of a Child

It's 4am on Day 2 of our second trip to Ethiopia and I am inexplicably awake. I feel compelled to write a few things down, although I am incredibly exhausted and probably incoherent at this point.
Day one started by arriving at the orphanage where Tariku was staying. What an unforgettable day! This was the moment we had been eagerly anticipating for 2 and a half years. We sat and chatted for a short while, watching the nannies caring for the other children. Even the guards were holding babies! We played with some of the other children whom friends are adopting.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, what was going through our little boy's head. He's old enough to know the drill - he's seen enough children leave that I think he knew what was going gone. He wouldn't let us put him down. As we were preparing to leave, I put him down so I could get up out of the chair I was seated in. He put all his weight into my legs, backing up into me and pinning me against the chair, as if to say, "Don't you dare leave me here!"
We returned to what we're calling home for the week. The remainder of the day was filled with visits from friends, warm greetings from folks we've met in our travels and some new folks, too. In the midst of it all, I developed a new shadow.
As I sit here writing at an hour I'd much rather be sleeping, I'm watching this little guy sleep. I can't help but wonder, "What is going through that little head?" In the last 24 hours, he's been taken by 4 strangers to a strange place with a strange bed. A new place, the 4th place in the last year, to call home. He seems so trusting, and so at peace.
We had a moment during the day that stuck out. In a matter of less than 2 minutes, our little guy tried to jump off a 10 foot ledge, threw a ball at a car, then when retrieving the ball he quickly tried to get into the car, then tried to escape out the gate, then found a wad of gum on the wall and tried to eat it. Every time I told him not to do something, he listened, but he is most definitely testing the limits and boundaries. He's in a sense learning the "law" of the family. Other moments, he's reaching out his arms to be picked up and saying "Papa" - that's enough to make me melt! He's being 'grafted' in, just as Romans points out we are being grafted in through Christ.

For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.” Romans 8:15

God was showing me this is what He did for us and still does with us. Those who had great faith in the old testament were those who believed in the coming Messiah and love for God. The law was given for our good, not as a measure to strive in the flesh, to attain and boast in as our own works, or as evidence of love for Him. I'm seeing maybe I should have a greater love of the law...not to live under it, but just understand it more in order to know more about my Father in heaven.

Me and God

We asked for God to break our hearts with the things that break His. He's doing it. We are learning so much about Him and how He views us. It's so heart-breaking and gut-wrenching. It hurts.

There have been several things that have reasonated in my spirit this week:

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." -Thomas Edison

"The most prickly of children is often the one that needs the affection the most" -Jenn's friend

I've posted below from Divine Nobodies by Jim Palmer. I posted this before, but I was re-reading it this week. God lead me to it and I think it is so applicable to where I am at. As I read, I realized, I'm sitting in 13D. Do I really want to go here with God?

Read below:

"From Nashville, we covered 8,792 miles to get there, and soon after arriving I was plunged into an evil I hoped existed only in nightmares. I would have long since conveniently buried this experience beneath a mountain of rationalizations if I hadn't looked deep into the vacant eyes of a twelve-year-old sex slave and vowed never to forget. Her expression cannot be purged from memory, and sometimes my mind plays tricks by imposing her face on some little girl I see walking in the mall or playing in the park. Returning to my past world of ignorance would relieve my grief, but it's impossible to go back.

He goes on to depict some graphic and horrific details that I won't put here. He goes on to give details of his mission with the International Justice Mission, a group which deploys operatives around the globe to rescue victims of horrific human rights crimes, usually involving children. He goes on, talking about being confronted with the realities of this world being right in front of him, and no longer buried in the obscure sections in the back of the newspaper. He goes on:

My worldview was turned upside down in the length of time it took to walk past the line of little girls waiting outside a clinic to receive treatment for AIDS and every sexually transmitted disease imaginable. I couldn't get back on the plane to Nashville quick enough.

I've done my share of globe-hopping, traveling to parts of the world most wouldn't be too interested to vacation in. One has a lot of time to kill on those long international flights, especially if you're like me and can't sleep well on planes. Flying home from South Asia, my books were stuffed in the bottom of my duffel bag, lost somewhere in the abyss of the overhead compartment. I decided I didn't want to risk waking up the kid next to me, who had finally stopped crying and gone to sleep. I had read every newspaper, was not interested in purchasing a thingamabob from the Sky Mall magazine, and had already seen Father of the Bride twice. So I sat and I thought...

Have you ever stopped to wonder, Where was God today? Yes, I know God is 'omnipresent,' but I mean specifically, where was God today? Where did he go? What did he see? How did he feel? I began imagining God present at that miraculous moment a precious life was born into the world, the joy and marvel of the newborn bearing God's image and uniquely fashioned by his hands. Taking in the beauty of a brilliant blazing sun slowly descending behind endless ocean waves, I have felt the company of the Creator amid the splendor of his handiwork. Jogging a woodland trail one autumn morning I passed an aged couple leisurely strolling in conversation hand in hand. God must have been there smiling as these soul mates shared a ripe and tender love, a gift from God, who is himself named Love. These simple but magnificent miracles inspire love and adoration for God deep within and draw me to him.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, forty thousand feet about the earth, these nice thoughts about God gave way to disturbing images I wish I could forget from my trip. Now the question, where was God today? tortured me. Today a ten-year-old girl is being strapped down tight to a bed and brutally and repeatedly raped. God is present. Today an eight-year-old emaciated boy is covered with a cardboard box and left to die. Slowly he slips into unconsciousness. God is present. Today a young mom of three wails in bed as her skeletal body writhes with the unrelenting agony of AIDS. God is present. Still, I grew angry. Why was God pushing these horrors in my face? I was emotionally spent and wanted to go home to myworld. God could have that world; that was his deal; he's God; I didn't live in that world.

Or did I?

Sitting in 13D, I uncovered something unsettling about myself. I don't really want a 'relationship' with God. Here's what I want. I want to share with God all I feel, all I need, all that grieves me, all that makes me happy, the puzzling things, the fun things, and the hard things, but I would prefer that God keep his stuff to himself. I don't want to hear about his pain and share in his grief. I don't mind listening to God as long as I'm receiving solutions, answers, and advice. Maybe what I really want is a divine vending machine: pop in my prayer, press the button for my need, and I'm good to go. A professional live-in massage therapist and a Starbucks within walking distance would be nice too.

Any relationship involves two people, you and the other. It seems that in a 'relationship' with God, we would desire to listen to the Other to learn what the Other is really like. But how is this possible without going through the adventure of each day with the Other? Can we personally and intimately know someone without sharing experiences, and doing things together--little things as well as big things, and taking the risks of love together? Wouldn't we want to learn how to love those whom the Other loves, to see them through his eyes? We would want to rest and celebrate together, to share beautiful things, to laugh together. But wouldn't we also want to enter into the pain and grief the Other feels when pain, injustice, and cruelty are inflicted upon those he loves? In every abusive home where a child cries in fear and pain, and in every city street where a homeless person shivers under newspapers on the pavement, the living Christ is there. Whether it's across town or on the other side of the globe, suffering people surround us. Maybe 'carrying Jesus' cross' is our free choice to become compassionately involved with him in the pain of others and be partners with God in bringing healing and transformation.

Just a small glimpse into God's world was enough for me. It's staggering to consider the intensity of anger and anguish I felt witnessing just a few injustices compared to what God must feel being personally and fully present to countless such heinous horrors 24/7. You'd have to be comatose not to feel God's hurt and anger ooze from the pages of Scripture over the oppression of the weak and vulnerable. Even after all my sophisticated exegesis of the Old Testament prophets and words of Jesus, I can't seem to get away from the fact that the main message of God to his people about injustice is to get off our rear ends and do something! This goes way deeper than feeling guilty about doing more; I'm trying to figure our how I got to the place where the things that break the heart of God are so marginal to mine.

I'm starting to wonder if I can even have a 'relationship' with God this way, and I'm left with the question of how much I really want to know God. There's no having it both ways. Whether I like it or not, the God who dances over the breathtaking sunrise weeps over each victim of brutality.

Any relationship runs the risk of drifting apart over time. Take boy meets girl. In the hunting phase (or 'dating' phase), guys become mysteriously and happily engaged in virtually everything the woman has interest in, including endless browsing at Pier 1 and watching Brad Pitt movies. We become brainwashed in love. College football, working out, and playing golf are easily sacrificed on the altar of love. They get married, and five years later, she's at the mall with a friend, and he's at home TiVo-ing the big game and watching Terminator 5 while running on the treadmill. They have grown apart due to their separate interests. When I started off with Jesus, I wanted to know everything about him. I would have gone anywhere and done anything at any cost. As the years rolled on, somehow I became less interested in him and more interested in me. More specifically, what he could do for me. Rather than a relationship, my Christianity morphed into some sort of divine self-help philosophy, problem-solving plan, and life-improvement strategy.

.
.

I had a few moments alone with Varsha on a bench in the outdoor courtyard of the recovery ranch where she now lives. We sat and talked. I learned that being saved from the brothel was just the first step on her long and difficult road to freedom. It was going to take a lifetime to recover from the physical, emotional, and spiritual damage she had experienced. She knows one thing: this Jesus must be worth knowing if his followers risk their lives to rescue nobodies like her. Reaching into a brown paper bag, she bashfully pulled out a braided leather necklace and presented it to me. She made it herself. Part of the healing process had been her discovering a talent for making jewelry and dresses, which she sold at the market.

It was time for her to go; she had an appointment at the AIDS clinic in the city and an afternoon counseling session. I felt awkward and didn't know what to say. Wanting to hug her, I had become timid myself. Time was ticking, and so I clumsily asked, 'Do you mind if I give you a hug good-bye?' As we embraced, I closed my eyes. This was a holy moment. In my arms was a precious and priceless daughter of God. One million new girls every year around the world are forced into child prositution. Can someone like me or you really make any difference in such a massive sea of hurting people? It may not seem like much, but in moments like this, the ability to impact one life means a lot. God knows this one by name, and now she is free.

Sometimes what happens in our world is absolute evil, unimaginable chaos, and a stunning reversal of God's intent for creation. When my heart is broken open by suffering, especially suffering caused by human selfishness and cruelty, I meet a more complex God than I would prefer. Sometimes he is an uncomforting God who does not provide easy, consoling answers to my pleading question, Why? At other times he is a discomforting God, and his grief is simultaneously a cry for justice that enters creation like a mighty storm, rousing God's people from their sleep. While we wait in the darkness and ask God, 'Why did you let this happen?' God hurls the question back to us: "Wake up, people, to what is happening. Why do you let this happen in the world I gave you?'

Whenever people are victims of injustice, God desires intervention. Some people in our world suffer from lack of food, water, shelter, or medical care. I'm beginning to see there's a whole other category of suffering in the world, namely, oppression. It's a crime of opportunity when powerful people exploit the weak and vulnerable by taking what they have or forcing them to do what they otherwise wouldn't. This grieves and angers God, and we reflect his image in us when we refuse to tolerate it. This God is both powerful and vulnerable in ways that are consistent with relationship and with life. He cares deeply about the well-being of every person in every community. He is passionate about wholeness and peace. He also hardwired humanity with free will. With that will, people commit injustice and believers ignore it. To live faithfully in relationship with God requires facing the whole truth of our world, looking honestly at our part in it, and being true to our identity as sons and daughters of God in the midst of it. This discomforting God forces us to face reality and mobilizes us to do something about it.

Whether it's across the ocean or across town, it's never been about the number of people I can help relative to the size of the need. It's about relationship. With God. With one another. This one young girl in the middle of nowhere matters to him, and as we embrace, I feel she's starting to matter to me. We say our good-byes; she goes her way, and I go mine. Almost nine thousand miles is a long way to travel, but I think the distance between God and me is shrinking."

2 prickly kids in "overalls" showed up at my door this week. Where was God when they were orphanned? Where was God along the way to today? And today...where was He today? God is here and has been there all along the way. He's here today. He wants me right here with Him. He desires love, justice, and mercy. I think that is what is the hardest - I'm not particularly fond of my responses to my discomfort, anger, and offense in the midst of all this. These kids matter to Him, even though I'm ready to throw in the towel. No matter the outcome, maybe we'll see the distance between "God and me is shrinking"...it already is...

Grafted In

Through the experience in recent weeks and preparation for our son to come home, we've been reading materials on adoption. So many things have struck me in how you "tie the strings" with an adoptive child that I took for granted with our biological children. But as I read about these things, I realized just how much it parallels our journey with our Heavenly Father.

We're "grafted in" as Romans 11 talks about. We're adopted into His family. I'm seeing more and more the choices I have made along the journey is what our adopted children will need to do with us. I came to know the Lord in my late teen years. I had 18 years of living apart from Him to draw some pretty ridiculous conclusions about this world and how it operates. It isn't reality in God's kingdom, but it is my reality because of conclusions I drew through experiences in this life. Paul says he saw "dimly." We do, too. Our adoptive children will be in that same boat - they will be our children, but will see dimly as to the reality of what it means to have us as their earthly father and mother. It will require months and months of training. It will require such simple things as mom and dad serving dinner on their plates so they understand where provision comes from. There are so many things that will need to be re-trained in them because they have been fending for themselves, groping in the darkness.

Likewise, I see dimly because of the garbage I hold on to from my past and won't reliquish control and trust my adoptive Heavenly Father. This life is to be a life of freedom - it is designed to be resting in the "getting to", not "having to" under the yoke of fear, religion, or obligation. This is why we see dimly - we operate under the bondage of our old ways. This is another strong parallel - as parents, drawing them out of the old patterns and mindsets of fending for themselves, or living life for themselves, or trying to earn acceptance through works, or whatever the case may be...it is no different for us who are being grafted in to His family.

I know it is a finished work at the cross, but this is still a process of understanding how we are defined in Him and learning to cooperate with Him. Satan's game has always been the "if" game - "if you do this, then..." God has already paid the price in full and given us this gift - the ultimate gift of grace and freedom - and it involves nothing but rest.

The Author and Finisher

"You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world. Matt 5:8 MSG"

It has been an excruciatingly long 3 days since Oleysia departed. Many things have happened in those 3 days that have lead to some excitement, fear, and uncertainty with how this whole story is going to unfold.

God has been taking us back through the 2 year journey of adoption. I won't get ino everything here, as there are so many details that are probably only meaningful to us, but as we see the story unfold, we can see God's hand all over it. The most important revelation came to me this week concerning our present situation:

When we started over 2 years ago saying, "We want to adopt a sibling group from Ethiopia"... He was with us.

When we were told we had to put our adoption on hold because of pregnancy, and we were hurt because it was better for a child to languish in an orphanage than be with us and our newborn...He was with us.

When the paperwork needed to proceed with the adoption - the paperwork that if we had it at the time of pregancy they would have let us proceed - came just weeks after...He was with us.

When Jenn stumbled on New Horizons hosting program, and since we couldn't proceed with adoption at that time, we felt at least we could host...He was with us.

When Jenn had questions about different children on the waiting list for hosting, and hadn't heard from anyone at the hosting program, Jenn found a number on their website of a man who happened to have adopted from Oleysia's home and told us about Oleysia...He was with us.

When Oleysia was here, and we were all loving on another and cherishing the time together...He was with us.

He was showing us all this to help us see that He has been in the midst of it all. He showed me a picture 2 years ago of a game of bejeweled. It wasn't until recently that He gave me understanding of that picture - He is taking a mess of stuff and moving pieces around to bring things together and fall into place. Today I can see how he *could* make things fall rapidly into place and we could walk in favor that would be beyond imagination. I also see how we could get news that would hurt incredibly badly, and it would prolong the journey even more. And it isn't that I lack faith for the "beyond imagination" part - this is His story, not mine. He is the author and finisher of our faith. But He also lead us to Luke 17 - He is a righteous judge who will move swiftly...will He find faith in the earth? I think He's finding it here - I can honestly say I'm resting in Him, no matter the outcome...doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt...but He is with us.

We prayed several months ago that our heart would break over the things that break His heart. Today we sit, totally broken...but He is with us.

And now...our court date is slipping consistently for getting our little guy home from Ethiopia. Famine is ravishing the horn of Africa.

Oleysia must make some incredibly difficult and painful decisions, sacrificing something of her old life, or sacrificing what could be and is already here...some crazy stuff for a very young girl...but He is with her, and His is with us.

I'm excited, but also scared of what lies ahead...but I know He is with us.

He is with us.

"Divine Nobodies" and True Social Justice

The Lord has brought me through a season of 'unlearning' a bit from what I learned and reasoned throughout my walk "in the church". Seeing for my own life, I must return to simply "loving the Father" and "do the things Jesus did." Caring for the widow and the orphan, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked...these things are important to the Father.

I recently finished reading "Divine Nobodies" by Jim Palmer. As I was reading this book, a part really nailed me. I could try to blather on about his words, but I thought it would be best to just quote Jim's words...Jim is detailing a rescue mission in a South Asian country...young girls are kidnapped and then prostituted. He is posing as a customer so they can find where these brothels are to rescue these girls. Be warned, it covers a brutal topic, but its time we get our heads out of the sand!

"From Nashville, we covered 8,792 miles to get there, and soon after arriving I was plunged into an evil I hoped existed only in nightmares. I would have long since conveniently buried this experience beneath a mountain of rationalizations if I hadn't looked deep into the vacant eyes of a twelve-year-old sex slave and vowed never to forget. Her expression cannot be purged from memory, and sometimes my mind plays tricks by imposing her face on some little girl I see walking in the mall or playing in the park. Returning to my past world of ignorance would relieve my grief, but it's impossible to go back.

There are some details about my rude awakening in South Asia that I cannot tell you, including our specific locations. I traveled with a small band of highly trained professionals from International Justice Mission, which covertly deploys operatives around the globe to rescue victims of horrific human rights crimes, usually involving children. I saw Batman Begins, but I didn't realize there are actually people who risk their lives under cover of night, swooping in amid the horror to save innocent lives from the clutches of evil. These people are real heroes, and I met them in the dark alleys of one of the largest red-light districts in the world.

Until then, my most courageous endeavor was scooping up a half-dead mouse our cat dragged up on the back deck, terrifying Pam and Jessica [his wife and daughter]. A vaguely humorous scuffle ensued as things momentarily got ugly, but eventually the mission was accomplished. (Have you ever tried battling a mouse with a dustpan?) Not to say my Christian practices failed to embolden me. Hey, I can pass out church coffee mugs to strangers and do door-to-door neighborhood 'surveys' with the best of them. I wasn't quite prepared, however, for these IJM guys answering the WWJD [what would Jesus do] question by endangering their lives to free people most of the world wouldn't miss (in a nice kind of way, of course).

My job was to tag along, do exactly as I was told, and witness this heartbreaking tragedy with my own eyes. Arriving on an oppresively humid night, I taxied down into the red-light district with a guy I'll call Ron. I was briefed on the drive that we would work undercover, posing as customers looking for action to identify brothels forcing young girls into prostitution. Peeing in my pants became a distinct possibility, and that little form I'd signed about 'going at my own risk' began taking on meaning I'd never imagined. I am a terrible liar and actor; how was I supposed to play a pervert looking to have sex with little girls?

Less than two minutes after our feet hit the pavement, a pimp approached and offered a tour of the prime spots in exchange for ten bucks. (Westerners get first-rate treatment because exchange rates exponentially increase their spending potential.) Ron did all the talking, plunging us into a sea of nightlife. An abrupt turn down a grungy narrow alley finally brought us to what looked like an abandoned old building. We entered by climbing a steep stairway that dumped us out on a small landing outside a door that lacked an external knob. After a distinctive knock, the door opened into a dimly lit and glitzy lounge complete with plush 1970s-style carpeting on the floor and walls. Escorted to a comfy wraparound sofa, we sat next to real 'customers' (mostly Americans), who could have easily passed for my dentist or the guy who coaches my daughter's soccer team. No one spoke. We just sat there staring at this elevated makeshift catwalk directly in front of us. Anger began seething within me, and I felt I could actually kill somebody without regret. After what seemed an eternity, the lights went off and the catwalk brightened. Soft music began playing as the back door swung open, and a line of scantily dressed little girls made up with mascara and high heels wobbled out to present themselves. I was reeling inside.

Images often associated with 'escort services' and 'men's clubs' where glamorous sexy goddesses summon John Doe to a night of orgasmic bliss are far from the aberration that was playing out just two feet in front of me. These ten- to fifteen-year-old-girls looked pathetic and terrified as they were chided by the brothel owner to look energetic and maintain eye contact with customers who were making their rape selection. The younger they were, the more you paid. The littlest girls didn't come out. You had to specifically ask for them and show you had that kind of cash. Suddenly I was meeting the gaze of one little girl in a long black wig. Quickly glancing away, I noticed she continued staring right at me--or was it right through me? I wished for a cape and one of those superhero rescue gizmos to snatch her out of harm's way.

Those obscure headlines at the bottom of page D14 were now part of my world. Not wanting to remember or have anything to do with it doesn't work. The reality just won't go away or wash off. I've tried rationalizing, telling myself there are too many for me to make a difference, and it's those people and their governments who are to blame, and only they can fix it. I can't be responsible for people on the other side of the world and wouldn't know what to do in the first place. Besides, I have problems to address where I live (but I really don't). Certainly God's justice will eventually straighten all this out and everyone will get their just deserts. I tried all that mumbo jumbo and more.

But there I was, face-to-face with this horrified little girl staring at me, her shoulders so slight they couldn't keep the straps of her lingerie up. Despite all my sensible reasoning, it didn't add up to a very good answer to the WWJD question. Something from the well of my being cried out, 'Do something!' It would be worth the effort, the reward far exceeding the cost. IJM had supplied the opportunity for me to be part of meeting the most obvious need of girls like this, the need to be set free. Posing as customers, we acted unimpressed with each lineup of girls shown us in order to be taken to several spots. This enabled us to document the particular brothels using minors, information that would later be used to organize a brothel raid and rescue operation. IJM was banking on my greatest contribution being made once I returned back home by raising awareness of the horrific plight of children forced into prostitution.

During the cab ride back, Ron detailed the terrifying trap that captured these girls. Lured to the city by the promise of earning money as domestic household servants, they are taken captive, transported by night to a brothel, and sold to the highest bidder. Locked in a room the size of a closet, they are told they will be providing sex to customers on demand. When the first customer comes, the child resists and fights back. The brother owner beats her into submission with iron rods and electrical cords. She finally consents and begins providing sex six days a week, with up to ten customers daily. She is rationed one meal a day and not allowed to leave the brothel. When touring their 'bedrooms' (four to six girls crammed together per dingy room) I almost lost it emotionally upon discovering that the same little girls forced to give sex still sleep with stuffed teddy bears and rabbits.

My worldview was turned upside down in the length of time it took to walk past the line of little girls waiting outside a clinic to receive treatment for AIDS and every sexually transmitted disease imaginable. I couldn't get back on the plane to Nashville quick enough.

I've done my share of globe-hopping, traveling to parts of the world most wouldn't be too interested to vacation in. One has a lot of time to kill on those long international flights, especially if you're like me and can't sleep well on planes. Flying home from South Asia, my books were stuffed in the bottom of my duffel bag, lost somewhere in the abyss of the overhead compartment. I decided I didn't want to risk waking up the kid next to me, who had finally stopped crying and gone to sleep. I had read every newspaper, was not interested in purchasing a thingamabob from the Sky Mall magazine, and had already seen Father of the Bride twice. So I sat and I thought...

Have you ever stopped to wonder, Where was God today? Yes, I know God is 'omnipresent,' but I mean specifically, where was God today? Where did he go? What did he see? How did he feel? I began imagining God present at that miraculous moment a precious life was born into the world, the joy and marvel of the newborn bearing God's image and uniquely fashioned by his hands. Taking in the beauty of a brilliant blazing sun slowly descending behind endless ocean waves, I have felt the company of the Creator amid the splendor of his handiwork. Jogging a woodland trail one autumn morning I passed an aged couple leisurely strolling in conversation hand in hand. God must have been there smiling as these soul mates shared a ripe and tender love, a gift from God, who is himself named Love. These simple but magnificent miracles inspire love and adoration for God deep within and draw me to him.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, forty thousand feet about the earth, these nice thoughts about God gave way to disturbing images I wish I could forget from my trip. Now the question, where was God today? tortured me. Today a ten-year-old girl is being strapped down tight to a bed and brutally and repeatedly raped. God is present. Today an eight-year-old emaciated boy is covered with a cardboard box and left to die. Slowly he slips into unconsciousness. God is present. Today a young mom of three wails in bed as her skeletal body writhes with the unrelenting agony of AIDS. God is present. Still, I grew angry. Why was God pushing these horrors in my face? I was emotionally spent and wanted to go home to myworld. God could have that world; that was his deal; he's God; I didn't live in that world.

Or did I?

Sitting in 13D, I uncovered something unsettling about myself. I don't really want a 'relationship' with God. Here's what I want. I want to share with God all I feel, all I need, all that grieves me, all that makes me happy, the puzzling things, the fun things, and the hard things, but I would prefer that God keep his stuff to himself. I don't want to hear about his pain and share in his grief. I don't mind listening to God as long as I'm receiving solutions, answers, and advice. Maybe what I really want is a divine vending machine: pop in my prayer, press the button for my need, and I'm good to go. A professional live-in massage therapist and a Starbucks within walking distance would be nice too.

Any relationship involves two people, you and the other. It seems that in a 'relationship' with God, we would desire to listen to the Other to learn what the Other is really like. But how is this possible without going through the adventure of each day with the Other? Can we personally and intimately know someone without sharing experiences, and doing things together--little things as well as big things, and taking the risks of love together? Wouldn't we want to learn how to love those whom the Other loves, to see them through his eyes? We would want to rest and celebrate together, to share beautiful things, to laugh together. But wouldn't we also want to enter into the pain and grief the Other feels when pain, injustice, and cruelty are inflicted upon those he loves? In every abusive home where a child cries in fear and pain, and in every city street where a homeless person shivers under newspapers on the pavement, the living Christ is there. Whether it's across town or on the other side of the globe, suffering people surround us. Maybe 'carrying Jesus' cross' is our free choice to become compassionately involved with him in the pain of others and be partners with God in bringing healing and transformation.

Just a small glimpse into God's world was enough for me. It's staggering to consider the intensity of anger and anguish I felt witnessing just a few injustices compared to what God must feel being personally and fully present to countless such heinous horrors 24/7. You'd have to be comatose not to feel God's hurt and anger ooze from the pages of Scripture over the oppression of the weak and vulnerable. Even after all my sophisticated exegesis of the Old Testament prophets and words of Jesus, I can't seem to get away from the fact that the main message of God to his people about injustice is to get off our rear ends and do something! This goes way deeper than feeling guilty about doing more; I'm trying to figure our how I got to the place where the things that break the heart of God are so marginal to mine.

I'm starting to wonder if I can even have a 'relationship' with God this way, and I'm left with the question of how much I really want to know God. There's no having it both ways. Whether I like it or not, the God who dances over the breathtaking sunrise weeps over each victim of brutality.

Any relationship runs the risk of drifting apart over time. Take boy meets girl. In the hunting phase (or 'dating' phase), guys become mysteriously and happily engaged in virtually everything the woman has interest in, including endless browsing at Pier 1 and watching Brad Pitt movies. We become brainwashed in love. College football, working out, and playing golf are easily sacrificed on the altar of love. They get married, and five years later, she's at the mall with a friend, and he's at home TiVo-ing the big game and watching Terminator 5 while running on the treadmill. They have grown apart due to their separate interests. When I started off with Jesus, I wanted to know everything about him. I would have gone anywhere and done anything at any cost. As the years rolled on, somehow I became less interested in him and more interested in me. More specifically, what he could do for me. Rather than a relationship, my Christianity morphed into some sort of divine self-help philosophy, problem-solving plan, and life-improvement strategy.

The day before leaving we traveled far outside the city where I met a sixteen-year-old girl named Varsha. After four years of being locked away and languishing in a brothel, one night a first-time paying customer behind closed doors strangely wanted something other than sex. Instead, this IJM operative asked the frightened little girl to trust him. She provided enough information for him to begin organizing a brothel raid. Several months later, under the cover of darkness, a twenty-four-passenger van slowly crept down the alley behind her brothel. Without warning, a surge of armed men kicked open the front door and seized the house in a fracas of commotion. The back door was swiftly secured, and Varsha and a line of other girls were rushed out amid gunfire into the waiting van. While the van squealed off into the night, the brothel owner and customers were subdued, cuffed, and hauled away. Mission accomplished.

These IJM guys have a slightly different picture of Jesus than most of us do, convinced that if he were bodily present, his boot would have been the first kicking in the door. Most churches try to soften up and tame these kinds; you know, make them more compassionate and caring. Maybe the kingdom of God needs a few more who are willing to kick some tail and take names if necessary. Sure, we need to pray for victims of injustice, but has anyone thought of, well, like, rescuing them? My afterlife view of justice is real convenient since neither I not my daughter is the one being beaten senseless with electrical cords.

I had a few moments alone with Varsha on a bench in the outdoor courtyard of the recovery ranch where she now lives. We sat and talked. I learned that being saved from the brothel was just the first step on her long and difficult road to freedom. It was going to take a lifetime to recover from the physical, emotional, and spiritual damage she had experienced. She knows one thing: this Jesus must be worth knowing if his followers risk their lives to rescue nobodies like her. Reaching into a brown paper bag, she bashfully pulled out a braided leather necklace and presented it to me. She made it herself. Part of the healing process had been her discovering a talent for making jewelry and dresses, which she sold at the market.

It was time for her to go; she had an appointment at the AIDS clinic in the city and an afternoon counseling session. I felt awkward and didn't know what to say. Wanting to hug her, I had become timid myself. Time was ticking, and so I clumsily asked, 'Do you mind if I give you a hug good-bye?' As we embraced, I closed my eyes. This was a holy moment. In my arms was a precious and priceless daughter of God. One million new girls every year around the world are forced into child prositution. Can someone like me or you really make any difference in such a massive sea of hurting people? It may not seem like much, but in moments like this, the ability to impact one life means a lot. God knows this one by name, and now she is free.

Sometimes what happens in our world is absolute evil, unimaginable chaos, and a stunning reversal of God's intent for creation. When my heart is broken open by suffering, especially suffering caused by human selfishness and cruelty, I meet a more complex God than I would prefer. Sometimes he is an uncomforting God who does not provide easy, consoling answers to my pleading question, Why? At other times he is a discomforting God, and his grief is simultaneously a cry for justice that enters creation like a mighty storm, rousing God's people from their sleep. While we wait in the darkness and ask God, 'Why did you let this happen?' God hurls the question back to us: "Wake up, people, to what is happening. Why do you let this happen in the world I gave you?'

Whenever people are victims of injustice, God desires intervention. Some people in our world suffer from lack of food, water, shelter, or medical care. I'm beginning to see there's a whole other category of suffering in the world, namely, oppression. It's a crime of opportunity when powerful people exploit the weak and vulnerable by taking what they have or forcing them to do what they otherwise wouldn't. This grieves and angers God, and we reflect his image in us when we refuse to tolerate it. This God is both powerful and vulnerable in ways that are consistent with relationship and with life. He cares deeply about the well-being of every person in every community. He is passionate about wholeness and peace. He also hardwired humanity with free will. With that will, people commit injustice and believers ignore it. To live faithfully in relationship with God requires facing the whole truth of our world, looking honestly at our part in it, and being true to our identity as sons and daughters of God in the midst of it. This discomforting God forces us to face reality and mobilizes us to do something about it.

Whether it's across the ocean or across town, it's never been about the number of people I can help relative to the size of the need. It's about relationship. With God. With one another. This one young girl in the middle of nowhere matters to him, and as we embrace, I feel she's starting to matter to me. We say our good-byes; she goes her way, and I go mine. Almost nine thousand miles is a long way to travel, but I think the distance between God and me is shrinking."

So I'm torn in two. My flesh rises up as I look around the church and think, "Do we really want to know the Father, or do we want the vending machine god and feel good about ourselves." That is nothing more than idol worship. I'm tired of hearing this same old stuff, but nothing changes. Relationship is a 2-way street. Do we want to know what grieves the heart of God? How can we continue living a life of ignorance or worse, calousness? There are 145-160 Million orphans in the world. Do we care? 30,000 children will die today of starvation and preventable diseases. Do we care? Our clothes are made in sweat shops overseas by young children. Do we care? We eat chocolate and coffee at the expense of slave labor. Do we care? And at what expense? For our luxuries? The Lord is unraveling me. This is on our watch...I don't seem to have the same grace as Jim here. I know my words seem harsh and judgemental...maybe they are...maybe they need to be...or maybe I'm just letting my flesh and self-righteousness ooze all over the screen...so I'll stop...

So with my eyes back on me, the Father has been peeling away layers of stupidity in my life and walk...I seemed to have muddied the waters along the way and He's taking me back to being a simpleton....showing me what is of Him, what was sort of Him that I judged and tossed out or took pride in and wore as a merit badge, and stuff that isn't of Him at all that I claim to be...to be honest, I feel like I'm unlearning at least some of my charismatic/prophetic "theology". We speak of a "Coming Kingdom", and I used to believe God was going to do "a new thing" or "the next big wave." I think I wasted a good bit of time "interceding" for this next big thing. The Kingdom has been here and He's been trying to reveal it in the earth with nobodies willing to humble themselves...it's already here, within us, we jut need to yield...and maybe, just maybe I'm starting to get it....maybe.