Adoption is Not the Gospel

There. I said it.   It has been  gnawing at my heart, mind and spirit for nearly a decade and I was never brave enough to put it in type and own it.  Now I am. And I will say it again.

Adoption is NOT the gospel.   The gospel is the gospel.

I am a four-time adoptive mother. I am an orphanage director. I love and support adoption and find it a beautiful picture of the growing of a family through an avenue not dictated by biology. It's an act of obedience for the families called to it. It's an adventure in "dying to self" that we might never experience any other way.

For many families, adoption is the will of God. It yields blessings too many to number. Yes! God does set the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6) and He calls us to look after orphans and widows (James 1:27)


But it is not the gospel.


Countless books, posts, summits and quotes tout "adoption is the gospel" or is as close to the gospel as a picture we could paint with our flesh here on earth. And I disagree. And I realize I'm nobody and I am disagreeing with the likes of John Piper, Russell Moore and numerous   learned scholars who could bury me in any argument any day of the week with all but one brain cell tied behind their backs.

But, folks, I don't see it. And I have adopted. I love my adopted children to the ends of the Earth.

The gospel, my friends, is the sacrificial death of a holy, perfect God on the cross for sinful, undeserving man.  The gospel is the ONLY hope for hell-bound sinners (that's all of us, by the way) to find life outside of the condemnation we all deserve. 

So where, in this list of descriptors of the gospel of Christ, does the Earthly picture of adoption show up?  Are we, the adoptive parents, the representatives of Christ? Are we saving our adopted children from a literal or theoretical "hell" when we adopt them? Are we laying down our very lives for the purpose of bringing children into our families?  It might feel like it some days but, I assure you, the act of adopting a child will not cost you your literal life. In most cases, anyway. 

And if it did, your death wouldn't pay for a single sin. Neither would mine. 

Wouldn't a more accurate picture of the gospel be we, as adoptive parents, changing places with our adopted children?  We would go live in orphanages as the fatherless and they would be ushered into our homes, no qualifiers needed. We would give up everything in our own lives and just simply hand it over to children who hate us ? Isn't that more in the range of the gospel than us bringing a beautiful child into our homes where we inadvertently get a host of benefits, not the least of which is being able to parent precious children who had no family. 

Adoption is GOOD.  Adoption is BEAUTIFUL and Adoption is HARD.  But when it is equated to the gospel, when it reduces the gospel to something even remotely reproducible by the very recipients of the pure love of God the Father, who had no sin in Him, it falls agonizingly short.  

The same scripture that calls us as Believers to "care for orphans" also calls us to "care for widows". But how many fund raisers have your friends held, how many Go Fund Me pages for the care of widows?  How many of us as Believers are rushing to bring widows into our homes? I never have. It never even crossed my mind to do that.  I wanted more children. That was at the heart of our adoption. Maybe that isn't the case for every adoptive family. But I wanted a bunch of kids. And I got them through adoption. 

Adopting my sons never felt like the gospel. It felt like what it was. Adopting sons. It was exhilarating and awesome.  It was obedience to the call on our family. But the analogy that adopting them was somehow a type of "salvation" for them or for us just felt awkward. And wrong. It's not like what Jesus did. It's what people do. We take care of each other in whatever way God tells us to. 

And where does  "adoption is the gospel" or "adoption is God's heart" leave our fellow Believers who aren't called to adopt children? Do they feel "less than"?  Do they somehow miss the full illustration of the gospel in their lives because they haven't adopted a fatherless child?  I pray they never feel that way.  I pray they understand adoption is a calling on specific families while CARING for the fatherless is a mandate for all of us who claim to belong to the great big family of God. 

Please hear my heart on this. I LOVE ADOPTION!!! I LOVE MY ADOPTED SONS and my biological children with all that I am. 

It is beautiful when the children in my orphanage are united with their forever families through adoption.  It's my heart's desire for the ones who also desire it.

But no human analogy - not adoption, not marriage, not organ donation, not soldiers dying in combat, not people selling all their worldly goods to move to the third world to open an orphanage, not any single act we can engage in can hold a candle to what Jesus did on the cross those 2,000 years ago to reconcile us to God.

That singular act of love, which needed no repeating for a new batch of sinners (unlike adoption which presents a continuous need for new families to reach out to new orphans)  and which could only be satisfactorily completed by God Himself, is final. And incomparable. 

Adoption is adoption. Worthy in it's own way.

The gospel is the gospel. Beauty beyond comprehension, sacrifice beyond replication , good news with no parallel.  

Perfect for the imperfect.  Holy for the sinful. 

Life giving and soul saving in  the only way a human soul can be. 

Adoption is not the gospel. The gospel is the gospel. 

 

 

From One Orphanage To The Next

I recently heard a statement from a friend who is in the child caring world that shocked and saddened me.  This friend stated that when big families adopt, it's like the children going "from one orphanage to another".  The following blog post is decidedly bias. Just know that.

WAIT. WHAT?

That was her exact statement, verbatim. I sat  in confusion for a few seconds but thought to "fix my face" before she looked back at me.  I considered my own family of six children - four adopted and two biological - and wondered if she meant me.  Or someone else. Is six "orphanage numbers" or was that comment only directed at the mega families of 9, 10, 11 or 17 children?  

I said nothing. Because I was offended and didn't want to say something I might regret. 

And then I decided to try and be very diplomatic and evaluate her words carefully, considering the people I know "in real life" who have adopted children and large families, and since I direct and live inside of an orphanage, it was easy for me to compare the two scenarios.  

I see, in some aspects, how she is right. In both my orphanage and the large families I  know well,  there are some glaring similarities:  lots of people, piles of laundry, big grocery bills, the need to take turns in the bathroom, fights over TV shows, the last cookie being a big deal ,  running out of toilet paper at lightening speed , people having to wait a little while to be heard, a fair amount of chores for each child to simply keep the place running . . . and those are different and maybe harder paths than small families walk.  

But then I weighed some other similarities: always someone to play with, likely at least one person to take your side, a dying to self that creates good character when the "me, first" attitude has to go, older siblings to teach younger siblings everything from swimming to shoe tying, younger siblings to teach older siblings to be loving caregivers, a place to try out your gifts and talents in front of a larger audience, and ultimately, more people to love and be loved by. 

And the implication in the statement was that placing my precious Mercy House children into a large family was somehow a disservice to them.    That maybe just keeping them in the first orphanage was sufficient if no small families were considering them  since a large family is pretty much an orphanage.

That,  my friends, is a lie! 

 If I know one thing, I KNOW orphanage life. I believe I run a pretty wonderful orphanage. I truly love the children in our center. I kiss them goodnight and make sure all their needs are met. They are happy, growing, thriving people who are getting to know Jesus and are safe from harm. They LOVE their lives here.  They count. Their opinions matter.  I sit up with sick ones and hold crying ones. 

But I would never even try to submit that my orphanage is better than or even equal to a large family. 

You see, parents in large families, there are some things YOU can give my children that I can not.

A new family tree.  A last name that matches yours. A group of siblings who will be there for him long after you and I are gone. Not leaving for their own adoptive homes.  A place to bring his own children someday that is his REAL home and a family that is his REAL family. Grandparents, cousins, crazy uncles!!! 

We at Mercy House are LIKE a family.                             You, my friends ARE a family.

Don't let anyone discourage you, Mothers of Many, from following your dream of adopting a child. Or a sibling group.  

And you, my fellow orphanage director friends, please consider those large families and don't dismiss them simply based on numbers. Really SEE them.  Each individual member.  I realize some of the children in care NEED to be in a smaller family for a number of reasons. But I truly believe that almost any child can succeed and thrive in a large family. Sometimes better. 

So, if you ever hear a statement  like my colleague made above, whether you are in a large family yourself, a single person or married with one dog and two fish, please defend big families. 

In a world that celebrates all kind of families, let's not forget the large ones. 

You have so much to offer! 

Easy Come, Easy Go (And Other Misconceptions)

There has been much "giving" and some painful "taking away" these last few weeks at our shelter for street children, Mercy House.  I am both sad and happy to share the events with you in hopes that your heart for the fatherless will be stirred to prayer and action.

Because we never want to work alone.
And we would not make it here on our own.

If you read my previous blog post, you know that we admitted two boys in mid January. Those boys were right from the street and the older one was already deeply involved in using drugs and collecting revenue from the younger street children by force.

Three of our MH boys. The two new ones are the younger child on the far right and the one in red next to him. 

They stayed for almost two full weeks. They went to school. They attended church and devotions. They rarely presented behavior problems and they gave us hugs and willingly did their chores.
It appeared everything was going well. But the older child asked often to use the computer. He has facebook and used to spend his days on the computer at the local internet store after he begged for (or extorted) enough money to buy several hours.  He was clearly unhappy that we do not let the children at Mercy House be online. We just can't. He asked often to visit his family, although he did not want to stay there. He asked several times if we could provide the siblings some food. We did.
Then, all of a sudden, on a Monday, 12 days after admission, one of my older Mercy House boys brought the two new boys to me. He said "they want to go back to the street."
I thought maybe they were kidding.   They were not.
Mercy House is not a jail and given that the older boy, Mark, had run away from his past shelter more than ten times, I knew he was going to go if he wanted to.  I told them that I wished they would stay but I understood if they couldn't.
And they left, taking nothing but the clothes they were wearing and the flip flops on their feet.
We waited to see if they were coming back after a little walk.
They did not.
So we set out to find them in the streets where we always saw them and, lo and behold, there they were. They came to us with no attempt to run or hide. They knew we loved them and meant no harm.
Mark, the older boy,  was passing out envelopes to the younger street kids called "sobre".  The envelopes have a message written on them asking for money for food. The younger street children are expected to return those envelopes to Mark at the end of the day and he will give them a little bit of money and keep the rest for himself to buy his solvent and computer time.

the envelopes "sobre" that we took from one of our new admissions

The younger child was eager to come back to Mercy House with us. He was dirty, hungry and still wearing the clothes he had on the day before when he left. His flip flops were gone and he was walking between my social worker and I as we took him to McDonald's without even looking back at the group of boys, Mark included, who were calling his name.

always a second chance

While we fed him, he confided in us that he did not want to run away but Mark convinced him they would find his older brother, who he loves and is committed to. This young child wanted his family ties and agreed to leave with Mark. They did find his older brother and after a small meal, this young boy led us to his brother and we spent some good time getting to know them both and their stories.

big brother, Issac, coming from behind a building where the street children congregate

They expressed willingness to come into shelter with us and, since we had already investigated family ties when little brother came to us two weeks prior, we knew there was no capable family willing to care for these boys. There was plenty of family to be found. Just nobody willing. Some had tried and labeled these boys "too difficult" to keep at home, "disobedient" or "pasaway (naughty)".
So they came to us.
But not alone.
They introduced us to two of their friends, another set of brothers. These boys are 7 and 10 and have been on the street for about three years. They also asked for help. We recognized them from the government shelter.

brother one, age 10

brother 2, age 7

These boys were pleading with us to "adopt them".  They shared with us that their father is in jail and their mother left them. They were left in the care of a sick grandmother who could not feed them, so they went into the streets to beg in order to eat.  They met other street children who showed them the ropes and they migrated to Dasmarinas, a place where there is a large community of true street kids - not the ones who go home at night. The ones who have no place to call home.
We have to use great wisdom and discernment in admitting children, rescuing, right from the street.
There is risk in taking children in who have loving parents but just want to sniff and play and be "free".  So immediately upon admission, we inform all the authorities at the local Barangays where these children originated that we have the kids and how any searching family can find us.
We then go to the Barangays within a week of admission to search for ourselves.
Yesterday, we had a very tearful reunion with the ailing grandmother who wanted so much to care for these two precious boys but simply could not.

she was so relieved to see these boys healthy and cared for

my amazing social worker having prayer with the family

And now, we have unearthed a host of new needs and a deeper call to serve. This grandmother has tremors and appears to be extremely arthritic. She told us the older of these two children was her caregiver when he was still in the home. He took her to the restroom. He helped her eat.
There are others doing those tasks now but just seeing our new resident painted in that caregiving light deepened our love for him on the spot.
And that is where we now stand.
One boy gone. Four new boys who need us.
My own personal and somewhat selfish obsession with "the one who got away" . . .

Mark, white shirt, in school where he should still be 

I know in my heart and have always known "you can't save them all". But I so desperately wanted Mark to stay at Mercy House.  He is such a smart boy- academically. He is still a CHILD in so many ways. And maybe we will get our chance. I would take him back.
 Maybe we won't get another chance with him. My prayer is that seeds were planted during his time here that will make him grow to hate street life and long for a relationship with his Heavenly Father.  Maybe I won't even live to see this child become someone different.
Maybe he won't.
But we will continue to pray and reach out anytime we see him.
Upon his admission to Mercy House, my social worker counseled with him like she does every child. They fill out a questionnaire together.  One of the question is "who is at least one person in your life who has helped you?".
Mark's answer:  "nobody".
He can no longer say that in truth.  For that, we are grateful.

Please pray for our four new boys. No longer street children. Now learning to live as sons in a family.  Pray that they came to us in time. Pray that they lose their taste for all things "street" and, as always and most importantly, they see God's hand in their lives and are drawn to Jesus for life.

He gives. He takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

From THERE to HERE

For those of you with hearts for the poor, the orphan and the abandoned children of the world, we want to share with you  the path of one boy, from street child to sheltered child.

You may wonder HOW we find the children who need to come into Mercy House. Yes, we live in a place where we see children begging and working on the streets all of the time. But not ALL of them are actually "street children".  Many of them go home at night, empty out their pockets to help an impoverished family and sleep under a roof of sorts. With parents. And food. Some even go to school.

Those who don't, those who sleep outside of businesses and restaurants, in piles like puppies with other street children, those who can not go home because there is no home- or no parents - or abuse and starvation and drug addiction - THOSE are the children we seek to serve inside Mercy House.

And just over a week ago. That is who we admitted. His name is Mark.

We initially met Mark inside this government shelter for street children. That was almost three years ago. In this photo, he is in a yellow t-shirt on the far right. A smallish boy with light skin and a short haircut.
He had the same story most of the kids in the government shelter have. He is the child of drug addicts and at home, there is no food, no supervision and lots of heartache. So he took his chances on the street. On any given weekday, the government task force comes out to round up street kids and deposit them in this center. The kids often run away and are "re rounded up" multiple times. Mark is also a serial runaway.
We met him on the streets several times. Most recently, a month ago. And he looked nothing like the sweet-faced, fair-skinned little child we remembered from the government shelter.

He was thin, filthy, looked like he hadn't slept in a long time, was high on solvent and actively sniffing from a bottle held in his hand when we saw him. He recognized us and waved and smiled. It took us a few moments to recognize him because of his changed appearance.  We invited him inside McDonald's to eat a meal with us.  He told us that a month prior to that day, he had been released from the government shelter back into the care of his parents. He stayed home for exactly two days when the drug abuse and lack of food at home made the street a better option.   He spent his days begging for (or stealing) money in order to buy solvent to sniff and to purchase time at the computer shop. He had been my facebook friend for a few weeks and I wondered how a child with such a tumultuous life had the ability to have a facebook account.  Now I know.
After we heard his story, fed him a meal and prayed with him, we left him and went back to Mercy House. He had already sent us a facebook message asking us to "adopt" him.  We asked him to meet us the next day for counseling at the same McDonald's and he did.  We continued to talk to him, pray with him and let him know the rules and expectations inside our center.  We asked him to meet us again on another day for admission. We knew better than to admit him on the spot the first day. He needed to weigh his options. Think it over. Decide for himself.
He was there. On time.  And he was higher than we had ever seen him. It was unfair for us to ask him to stop sniffing solvent while he was still on the street.
Solvent takes away your hunger pains.  And your fear of the bigger kids on the street. And your thoughts about your parents and siblings.  It makes you feel like "Goku" (an anime character who has super powers) in Mark's own words.
So we brought a very high, red-eyed, dirty boy home with us to  go through withdrawal and get himself together.

Admission Day 

 Mark took a shower, got a quick tour of the center and asked if he could watch TV. He immediately fell asleep on the floor in front of the TV and slept for 17 hours STRAIGHT.  He woke up only once to be led up to his bed after using the restroom.  I checked on him often during the night, to feel his breathing, see if he was cold, find out if he wanted to wake up and eat something.  He just wanted to sleep.
The next day, we set out treating the many wounds on his body.

Many of the wounds were older but encrusted with dirt.  We were horrified to find out one of his wounds was a bite from a street dog. It took place long enough ago that rabies treatment would not have been effective for him.  So we prayed.
We decided to spend a week getting to know Mark, helping him to put on some weight (at 12 years old, he weighed 48 lbs upon admission) and finding out about his life both on and off the streets.
At the end of the first week, we asked him to lead us to his family home. His older brother was there holding his youngest brother, who was covered with a "mystery rash" of pus-filled sores.

The baby had sores on his scalp, and all over his body. The child caring for him had the same sores on his own feet and hands, as did the other sister.  The mother led me into a dark, dingy room and removed her shirt to show me a horribly infected breast oozing pus and a pregnant belly she claimed was six-months along but was only a small bump.  She is a meth user.

Their rented room is in the back of the alley  above and has no running water or electricity. The restroom is a 5-gallon paint bucket around a corner. The conditions here were dismal. I fetched my wound-care kit from the car and covered the mother with neosporin and clean gauze. I dared not treat the baby or children not knowing what they had.  After sharing the pictures with my friend who had been working with the poor for a long time. She confirmed it was mamasok (impetigo) and gave me a recipe of a cream to make.  We made it and took it to the family the next day.
A few days later, we visited them again, brought food and saw a HUGE improvement in the condition of all the family members.  Mark was relieved and happy to see his siblings healing up.
Mark has been to church with us once since admission, been a part of devotion eight times and asked me on four separate occasions what it means to be a Christian.  On January 22nd, Daddy Anthony shared a clear and concise plan of salvation from the Bible with Mark. He was ready to surrender his life to Jesus, experience forgiveness of his sins and start again!
Mark will be discipled at Mercy House.
He just started formal school today.
He eats three meals (with seconds every time) and takes daily vitamins.
He showers, brushes his teeth and has clean clothes each day.
He is a great dancer who leads the other kids in learning new dances.
He has a smile that can melt your heart and a tiny voice that is so sweet.
He gave me my first hug, unrequested, three days ago and I wanted to cry for joy.
Any life can be redeemed. There is no child "too street wise" or "too drug addicted" that the long arm of the Lord can not reach him.

 There is no sin too big that our God can not forgive it.  There is no family too broken that God can not mend it.  We are trusting in Him to use us as tools in His hand to reach out to Mark and his family until such a time that we know in our hearts they are unwilling and hardened and do not want to be helped. But even then, GOD STILL CAN.

Won't you join us in committing to pray for Mark and his whole family. There are five born children and one pre-born. There are two meth-addicted parents and a level of poverty that still sends shock waves into my heart, even though I've seen it before. 
Please pray that Mark's new-found faith is genuine and that he can grasp the deep love of Jesus for him. He hasn't felt much love in his own life.
We don't know the plans the Lord has for Mark and his family but we know that He led them to us. And us to them. To serve the best we can through the power at work within us - not our own.

As always, this is ALL HIM and little of us.  Just as it should be.

Precious Girl

Precious girl . . . I see you every single day.  I hear your loud laughter and I watch you being so sweet and mothering to the three youngest children in our center.

And I am proud of you.

I know how hard you struggle in school to learn and keep up with the other kids.  I know sometimes they tease you because some of them think you are too dark and not pretty.

But I think you are beautiful. Most people would agree with me.

And not them. Promise.

Precious girl, I have seen all those scars on your arms.  I hear your English getting better every day and I remember the day it became good enough for you to tell me who put those scars there. And how. And my Tagalog was just good enough to help you understand that it would be best to forgive. 

But if you do forgive, you are more amazing than I could ever hope to be.

I'm thankful. I get to be the one to hug you while you cry for that Grandmother and Uncle who used to visit you but asked not to anymore because it's too hard on them to see you and not be able to keep you forever.  There is no way for you to understand how they feel.  Or for them to understand how you feel about having family but not.  I am glad it's me.  For now.

I hope you can grow up and forgive me, precious girl, for not being able to take away

the pain of you not growing up with your brother. His disabilities are so big.

And we are so small. 

We just can not give him what he needs. 

Maybe someday, precious girl, I will be able to tell you how angry I am at the people who hurt you. You were just a tiny child and you did not deserve the things that were done to you. You were a baby and nobody protected you.  Instead, she watched while you were hurt.  Not every woman who has babies is really a "mother", sweet girl.  But when you grow up, if you want to be one, I know you will be.  You are already such a loving, caring big sister.  You had such poor role models and yet, inside you, you already know how to put younger children's needs ahead of your own.  

You are going to be someone great.

You already are.

So, precious girl, I want to end with telling you a secret. When I pray for you, my prayer always goes something like this:

 "Lord, redeem this life. Let her shine brightly for YOU. Let every hurt and every pain

be another layer of her testimony to how YOU heal and restore.

And, please, surround her with people from today onward who will love and protect her, even

at their own expense.  Bring her a "forever family" who sees the priceless treasure she is. Even on the hard days.   Amen"

On extra, extra tough days, when I want to pack that suitcase and go back to where I came from, I think about you. And the others.  I think "I don't want to miss the rest of her story".   I know it's going to be good.  So good.  

I am learning  a lot from you, precious girl. . . about the human spirit, about the resiliency of children, about how to CHOOSE JOY when it would be so easy to dwell on the pain of the past. 

One more secret, sweet one?  I want to be more like you. If you can choose joy, so can I.

Deal?  Deal.

 

Prodigal

I agonized over whether to blog this or not.  I considered the privacy of our family. The confidentiality of my son. The acquaintances who may have elevated our family too much and will be crushed to read this.   The close family members and friends who love this child.

But I decided after wrestling with the fear of man and trying to predict the possible fallout of sharing this family situation, to just be honest, let the truth speak for itself and I pray, most of all, that someone out there reading who has been down this road will feel less alone in just a few moments.

ONE OF MY SONS RAN AWAY FROM HOME

Just a couple of days ago, issues that had been boiling beneath the surface for years came to an I-can't-take-it-anymore pinnacle. On both sides.   

He packed and he left. 

He is technically an adult but he is not ready for the world.  He lacks some very crucial skills - like the ability to think of the feelings of others or the strength to stand firm in the face of temptation and peer pressure.   Likely, some of that lack is the fault of our own parenting.  It is also the fault of his own choices and years of  orphanhood and maybe even our life on the mission field.  

We told ourselves that the formula we used for parenting was a great one.

We still believe it is. We tried to point all of our children to Jesus at every opportunity.

We prayed for them. We PRAY for them.  We try to be good examples to them although we

know we fall so short so often.  

So as we serve orphans and abandoned children - street children - we are aware that our own "adult" son is probably living a life that would qualify him for services under some other ministry in our town.   My mind runs away with me as I consider the things he is probably participating in.  My heart breaks.  His innocence. His safety. His future.

But, ultimately, is not about ME. None of this is and none of this ever was. 

I am a mother and I "mothered" him.  I liked to believe that the allegiance of a mother, her listening ear and her helping hands can undo the years of not being anyone's son in a permanent way.  But again, that makes his life choices about me and they aren't. 

They are about his trust in his Heavenly Father and his willingness to humble himself in the sight of the Lord.

They are about understanding that our God is a jealous God and a consuming fire in the same fashion that he is a loving father and a faithful friend. 

This son has been taught the truth of God for many years. Long before we adopted him.  He has been loved, taken care of, provided for, guided and helped to choose a course for his future.   But that has been rejected in favor of going his own way. 

It feels a bit like a death but a lot more like a lesson.   How often are we "prodigal" before our father?  How many times have we taken all of his love and care for granted and been angry at Him for not simply footing the bill and allowing us to do whatever we please?  I know I have treated God this way.  Many times. It hits home in a new way now.   I have said, in effect "thanks for all the blessings, now leave me alone while I do whatever I want and try NOT to think of how it makes you feel."   

But in the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15, I am NOT like the father.

I do not want my son back.

That sounds awful, I realize.  I am not saying I don't EVER want him back but I don't want him to come back and be the same.  I am praying that the son who comes home is NOT the same as when he left.   That he is humble.  And contrite.  And grasps the depth of forgiveness that will be extended to him. 

And it will.

But while I am praying for HIM to be these things. I want to be these things.  Lord, let me be humble and contrite. Show us where our own fault in this lies.  Most of all, let this - yes - even THIS bring glory to your magnificent name!  Holy. Sovereign. And Good.

It can and it will.  In HIS way.  In HIS time.

 Luke 15

²³ And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. ²⁴ For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’

It's Real, Alright

^{Ephesians 6}

¹² For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. ¹³ Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.

Yesterday.    It was an awesome and a terrible day all rolled into one.  If I ever doubted for even a moment that spiritual warfare is

a real "thing",  I'm a full-fledged Believer now.

Yesterday made this theologically reformed, not-exactly-Pentecostal Believer want to start binding and rebuking everything in my path.

The morning started off hard and painful as I woke up at 5:30 am to find out a man our family has known and loved for fourteen years passed away after a battle with melanoma.  It was a blow. He's a husband and a father. 

Just  a few hours after this tough news arrived, my social worker came bouncing in, smiling, and informed us that our license to operate fully as a shelter/orphanage was complete and we could pick it up the next day!! We have been waiting for this license for quite some time. It allows us to admit EVERY CHILD on our waiting list right now!!!  The sun began to peek through the clouds of loss that had settled over us that morning. I considered this news quite a gift in lieu of what the morning brought.

We began to make plans for the admissions and call the referring agencies to get the documents prepared.

And then, we had to discipline one of our older sons and he decided to positively over react and try to pack a bag to "leave".  

So after more than an hour of talking, crying, praying and discussing with him and another person involved in the problem, he settled down and began to think straight. He stayed.

Meanwhile, a younger child of ours who is almost always kind to everyone was caught being downright mean to someone younger.  We have not seen this side of said child. It did not bode well for him.  The hammer fell . . . AGAIN. 

Thereafter, our social worker decided to type a form and her typewriter began to smoke and then, with a POP and a flash of light, simply blew up.

I did the only thing any normal woman would do in the face of such blatant "murphy's law" situations. 

I took a long, hot shower.

And I thought about the events of the day.   And I began to have such significant doubts about EVERYTHING that I scared

myself.  

I wrestled with this calling.  If my own children are going to act like absolute goobers at the drop of a hat, what business did I have bringing even MORE kids into the mix?  Who do I think I am?  Superwoman?  If I can't "manage" the five in my direct care right now . . . . Oh, so THIS is why certain denominations don't endorse missionaries with teenagers.  Yeah. I get it now. . . It's all been one grand delusion designed to copy some of my favorite heroes of the Christian faith but I am NO Amy Carmichael and my husband is no

David Platt. . . so what ARE we doing out here while the whole thing falls down around our ears?  Amateurs!  And the gall to bring my sons  BACK to their country or origin AND try to raise them in an orphanage?  I've cheated the very children I vowed to help heal.  

So in that vein, the internal battle raged

My tears mixed with the  water that we can shower in but dare not drink.  I had to cry as quietly as possible because there is absolutely no privacy in this echo-chamber of a home.   

Just when I had imagined   what our NEW life would look like back in America, close to my biological children once more,  I was reminded of Ephesians 6: 12-13.   

SO THIS IS WHAT SPIRITUAL WARFARE FEELS LIKE!

It's real.

It's hard.

I don't particularly care for it. 

But I know what to DO about it.  Two things are commanded in Ephesians 6.  I am to stand firm and I am to put on the whole armor of God.     If I had a dollar for every sermon I've heard on the "Whole Armor of God",  I'd be building us a new orphanage tomorrow.

And oh, how THANKFUL I am for that litany of sermons.   What I heard while sitting comfortably in my seat at church, probably holding a cup of coffee and scrolling through my Bible app, came in pretty darn handy in my shower in this developing country with my little gaggle of orphans walking home from school at any minute.

So it was then and there I knew.   We're standing firm.  We're staying.  I am not going to let my mind play around with leaving The Philippines everytime we have a hard day.  That's not fair to anyone.  Least of all, the kids in our care.   That's like getting married but keeping the divorce papers signed and in the top drawer "just in case . .. ".      

STAND FIRM

As far as putting on the whole armor,  I decided to start with the Sword of the Spirit.  I went to the Word. I read about the life of David.  Spent some time in prayer.  Asked for wisdom.  Poured out my heart.   And He really is so faithful and an ever-present help in times of trouble. He is everything His word says He is. 

Do any of you remember that gospel group from years ago called "Cloud Eight"?  They had a song called "If I Know God"

I  am such a music lover but of all songs to come to mind, this one is most obscure.  I haven't heard it or thought about it since the 90s, I'll bet.  It doesn't even have the most pristine theology, truth be told.   But the chorus says:

If I know God, He'll find a way to bless me

It's just like Him to turn things around.

He'll take a bad situation and work it for my good.

That's how life goes, if I know God.

And those words, coupled with  the sweetness of the scripture I had been reading and the communion of just talking to Him created such peace and clarity in me, that  any  doubts I had, ceased.   Especially any doubt I may have been harboring about the reality of spiritual warfare and the need to recognize it and do what the Bible says to do in the face  of it.

The temptation to run to facebook

                                      or the phone

                                      or my journal

                                      or even my husband

                                                       was overwhelming.   But God asked us to stand firm and to come to Him in the face of such battles. 

I am SO GLAD I did this time.   Spiritual warfare is so real, my friends.  But so is the one who can win every battle for us.    He warned us it was coming and He taught us how to confront it.  What a good and loving Father He is.

     

       

     

 

p.s. our orphanage/shelter  "Mercy House" has been nominated to win a $10,000 grant from a company called Kind Snacks. Please consider copying the link below to vote for us. It's free and winning would be a HUGE blessing to the kids in our care.
Thank you!!!
http://causes.kindsnacks.com/cause/mercy-house-of-the-philippines-street-children-and-orphan-rescue/