Because I’m a pastor and think about things in spiritual terms, it’s only appropriate that I spend a moment to comment on how physical adoption reinforced Gospel adoption to me.
Consider…
I didn’t choose God but He chose me because of His great love (Eph. 1.4-5).
I am bought by a significant price and sacrifice on His part (Eph. 1.7).
I am experiencing a life that I never could’ve created on my own (Eph. 2.8-9).
I am, quite literally, a citizen of a different kind of governance (Eph. 2.11-12).
I was a foreigner to God and He took me in, calling me His own son (Eph. 2.13).
I am now a part of a family that is much bigger and cooler than I could’ve imagined (Eph. 2.19).
The beauty of all of this: just as I don’t have a regret in the world, neither does He. Wow.
But that’s just me thinking thoughts…
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Trent Henderson
Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.
Having brought adoption up in this sermon I gave at Heritage Park Baptist Church where I serve as the pastor, I thought I’d post some reflections on adoption. First out of the box and hot in my heart right now is adoption is a calling.
What I said in the sermon and I’ve blogged on before I stand behind: I think every Christian couple should ask if God will let you. But throwing the door open like that doesn’t mean there’s not a massive, weighty, spiritual piece to it. Quite the contrary. Should God allow you, you’ll find yourself caught in this gravitational calling and actually depending on it. We did.
I remember when it clicked for us. I remember eating italian food with Ginny and talking about entry into this process. I remember all the waiting.
We waited a year to get a match.
We waited a long time for our PA.
We waited forever for our RA.
We waited longer than anyone under the non-Hague rules for our TA (over 150 days).
We cried while waiting.
We fussed with God and our boys and one another.
We got promises from God. None more precious than 1 Thessalonians 5.24: Faithful is He who calls you and He will bring it to pass. We clung to that truth like a kid to a lollipop. Multiple times, I’d tell myself and my wife that we weren’t going to stand before Jesus someday to give an account for our lives and tell Him that we quit just because the wait was long and too hard. The temptation to give up was there. God’s promises are stronger than the promises of temptation.
I received what I thought was a word of knowledge from the Holy Spirit: January. Turns out that’s the month in which she was born and that’s the month we got matched.
We saw God move in the last minute on both our RA and our TA (posts on my wife’s blog here and here).
We rode roller coasters of unbelievable heights and depths.
None of it – NONE – could we have endured without the sense of calling. It’s what sustained us. And that sense of calling is that gravitational pull toward something, giving weight to what you do and keeping you together when everything else is going supernova around you. We have some friends in the process right now enduring quite a bit of opposition from their family. Harsh words. Sinful attitudes. Guilt. Frustration. Prejudice. You don’t endure those kinds of things (especially from family) with eyes on God without that settling, focusing, steadying weight of calling.
Adoption is a calling. No denying it. But it could be a calling for a lot more families than you know.
But that’s just me thinking thoughts…
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Trent Henderson
Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.
“Through my pride – Through my shame – You show me love – You show me grace – I’m not looking back – Till I see Your face – I’m running straight to you.” – Building 429
I have never felt God’s pursuit of me more than in my relationship with Mya. He loves me without abandon, the way that I love her. Both of us, adopted. And sometimes, I really feel that space in between us. In between God & I, and in between Mya & I. Through her, I finally understand how much God loves me and cares for me and how much I can hurt His heart.
“Here I am saying I need you – I know I need you – Here I am, I’m coming to meet you – Cause I want to see you.” – Building 429
I have only begun to grasp His Redeeming Love. He has worked miracles in Mya’s life; in our lives, through her. He has revealed to us what He meant by His Commandment, “Love each other as I have loved you” (John 15:12). I have admitted during this journey that had someone told me how hard it would be to love someone who didn’t necessarily love you – I would have “passed”. And oh, the joy I would have missed. I am so thankful for the secret things of the Lord (Deuteronomy 29:29) that He chooses to reveal to us at the perfect time.
“All I really want to do is to fall into the emptiness that is the space in-between us. Erase it and bring us together again.” – Building 429
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Sara McClintock
Sara was blessed by marrying her best friend 15 years ago. Then, found The Greatest Love of All in Jesus Christ in 2004. Having already had the privilege to parent two football-loving sons, Sara and Bill had international adoption laid on their hearts. They were blessed beyond belief when they welcomed the cutest, spunkiest Chinese girl from Luoyang into their family in December 2008. Having left pieces of their hearts in China, Bill & Sara are praying for God’s will to retrieve them. Please stop by their family blog for random musings on life, redemption, grace, hope, love and faith.
my baby girl is 11 months old. and as i sit here writing, my mind wanders to what she might be doing at this very moment. my heart begs for her to be held. to have someone smile at her. soothe her when she cries. pick up her favorite toy when she drops it. giggle at her silly antics.
perhaps by her 13th month, i’ll look back and wonder what all this fretting was about.
We recently moved out of our house to remodel the downstairs after experiencing a water leak. In the process, I was forced to confront one of the more unwelcome tasks of moving
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3 (NIV)
It was Easter, but I didn’t want to celebrate. My head knew the truth of new life, but my heart felt like I was living in a valley of death.
Every Easter we had sung songs about Jesus conquering death and rejoiced at His resurrection. Normally it was a glorious celebration, but not that year.
An outsider might have scoffed. I wasn’t dealing with real death, thankfully. Instead, an avalanche of daily deaths was burying me. My heart was breaking over the end of a ministry at church I loved.
We thanked God for our adopted daughters, but their severe needs forever ended my family the way it was. And because of those needs, I was having to close doors of opportunity that brought me great joy. One “death” after another faced me.
As I stood that Easter Sunday, arms raised in pleading more than praise, with tears streaming down my face, I begged God, “I know You raised Jesus from the dead. But will You conquer my death? Will You redeem what feels like death here and now?”
The power of my emotions poured out in waves of grief.
Before then, I had not admitted to myself that what I faced felt like death. But there it was. Putting a name to it helped. The song ended, I dried my tears, and the service continued. No lightning bolt flashed, but my heart felt a little lighter.
In the coming weeks I allowed myself to feel the grief of loss. When sadness swept over my heart, I returned to my same questions: God, I know You can, but will You conquer my death?
I prayed for new life to come into my areas of “death.”
Interestingly, a month later I went to a conference where God opened floodgates of inspiration and ideas. I left more excited about the future than I’d been in years. One day that summer, I realized God had eased my heart over the loss of the ministry I had loved.
In late summer, God handed me an incredible gift of another ministry job that I could manage in my crazy schedule. In early fall we found a therapist who could help our family with one of our daughters. Within months of my pleading prayer, it became obvious God was resurrecting what seemed dead.
While my circumstances weren’t changed in every situation, my heart was comforted. My hope was resurrected.
Jesus showed me He is the Conqueror of all death: here in this world and forever. God answered my question and prayer with a resounding “Yes!” Yes, He can and will conquer my death. I don’t have to wait for eternal life to experience my own resurrection of the heart. And neither do you.
Dear Lord, I praise You today for Your power over all death
Originally posted on June 2, 2010 as they waited to travel to adopt their son…
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We had hoped to be in the air today on our way to Albania, but we are currently waiting on some paperwork to go through here in the US. God knew we needed this extra time though. We have been so busy in May that had we left today, we would have spent much of our time in Albania worried about what we didn
January 27th was a Thursday. After saying goodbye to friends, and praying with mountains of people, we boarded a plane. It was to be a long trip, possibly 2 months, but we would return with our adopted daughter. There was a chance we would have to return without her. There was a chance we would have to make two trips. That didn’t matter. We were sure that God would provide us a way to come home with her. It was his calling for the Polsgrove family.
It didn’t work out that way. Due to some issues beyond our control, we’re still waiting. When we came home, we thought we would only be home for 3 or 4 weeks before we returned. It’s been over that now. And, even though we hear rumors, there’s no way for us to know when we will be going back to get her.
People have been great. They’ve been encouraging and loving and supportive through every step. Joys and pains have all been shared with our friends and family. The one question we seem to get all the time is “How are you”? That’s a hard question to answer. The most common response is “we’re okay,” which is actually probably a lie. I guess the answer is “most of the time we’re great, but other times it feels like being kicked in the chest repeatedly.”
I’ve gone through a wide range of emotions since we got home. Sad to leave her. Glad to be in a familiar place. Confused why we’re delayed. Thankful for what we have.
The truth is, we stepped out in faith asking God to do something that was highly improbable if not impossible. He didn’t do what we thought he would. In fact, on the surface it seems he didn’t do anything. I thought that would rock my faith. I even thought it might make me doubt if he was even real. That hasn’t happened. This has really opened up the most honest conversations I’ve had with God in my entire life, and I’ve been more assured of his presence because of it.
I am absolutely confused. I am fine one second, impatient the next. There are even times of searing anger towards Him. I’ve been so angry that I wondered if other Christians’ opinions of me would change if they knew about it. All these things have resulted in me having honest conversations with God. I’ve been able to celebrate when He moves in other areas of my life. And, man, he has moved in other areas of my life.
The last time I posted, I was excited about going to get the baby girl. I also said that any semblance of control is an illusion. I had no idea how true that statement was. Although it’s been painful, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know how much I screw up things when I start to take the reigns. God will bring her home to be with us; I have no doubt. With each conversation and question and prayer, God is asking me to lean on him more, rely on his grace, breathe deep while He does the work.
This is a hard thing, but if I’m going to say “Jesus is the most important thing in my life,” I need to mean it. If it’s not put to the test once in a while, I can’t really mean it. So, I’ll wait. It’s not always easy, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it.
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Russ Polsgrove
Russ and Anna have been married for 5 years. Even as friends, before dating or marriage, they shared with one another that they each wanted to adopt. After marrying in May 2005, talk of adoption slowly entered its way into their conversations. Russ, working as a youth pastor, and Anna, working as a teacher and at a girl’s group home, saw the need more than ever for children to have loving, safe homes. After coming to this realization, they chose to begin the adoption process to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia who they have named Lucy. You can follow their journey and offer your support as they answer God’s call on their lives on their personal blog.
