How do we display the gospel with our lives, matching words and actions, Jesus like? I love the way the Gospels paint pictures with mustard seeds and pearls, virgins with lamps and farmers.
We can be tiny vignettes of real life gospel, painted and lived out before our neighbors. The dearest hope I have for my life is to become a miniature of truth coming to life, painting the picture of redemption by adopting. But not adopting just any child. There's a specific child on my mind and a particular community watching.
I imagine journeying back to Dom Veternik and walking up to blonde boys crib and saying "I'll take that one. He's my son." It gives me chills to think about.
Isn't that what Jesus did? He showed up to this huge orphanage called life and said, "that one, I want that one." And he paid a price, gave an inheritance, invited us home, became our family. Everyone's invited but not everyone has understood. What he did is still being talked about, it's still a source of wonder so many years later.
Very few children are adopted from Dom Veternik. When I spoke with one of the workers we struggled to communicate about the reality of adoption. She didn't understand why someone would adopt one of the children. They just live there.
I want to lift that bright eyed child who can't speak, or walk, or feed himself, out of his crib and carry him home. I want Lubitza and Anna and Yanna and Marina and Srjdan and Dragana and Zoran and whoever else is watching to rub their heads and wonder.
When I visited in October and held hands and sang and spoke softly to the treasures in beds Lubitza watched surprised. "Are there others like you?" she asked. I want to tell her that there is One so much better than me who cares and there's a band of us that imitate him.
I don't think I'll ever get over that boy. My heart is wounded, in a good way. I will never look at my worth in Jesus the same again. Even though carrying the burden of loving him, locked in my heart an ocean away, physically hurts I'm not sorry for it.
At night when Chris plays with our son and daughter making them squeal and run I imagine little boy sitting in a wheel chair, or on the couch beside me, throwing back his head and laughing in delight. I see his eyes crinkled shut in happy. I whisper a prayer that he will be rescued, that he will be loved, that the Spirit of God speaks kindness to his heart in the dark.
I don't think I would be the perfect mama, I know I would get tired and discouraged. I know I would have to give up a lot to care for him and the future would be uncertain. I know it would cost a lot to bring him home. But I think it should, I believe it reflects his worth. And even though I wouldn't be the perfect mama, I would be his.
How are you living out the gospel? Are you bending a submitted knee in a time of illness repeating our big Brother's words "not my will but yours Father." Are you pursuing truth like a pearl even when your coworkers pursue dishonest gain? Are you sowing God's word into your little ones hearts like a farmer scattering seed? The gospel is meant to lift off of the pages of the bible and be replayed over and over again in the hearts of God's people, coming alive in us just as it came alive in the hearts of Peter, Mary, Lazarus, John, Lydia and hundreds of others.
Adoption isn't the only snapshot to portray the gospel, but the Bible highlights it as very dear to God's heart, a reflection of what he's done for us, a powerful catalyst of his love in an often bleak world. You may not feel led to adopt but I have no doubt that God has a role for you to play in the display of his good news of grace. What is he calling you to? How are you living out the gospel?
God was speaking our language.
We can be tiny vignettes of real life gospel, painted and lived out before our neighbors. The dearest hope I have for my life is to become a miniature of truth coming to life, painting the picture of redemption by adopting. But not adopting just any child. There's a specific child on my mind and a particular community watching.
I imagine journeying back to Dom Veternik and walking up to blonde boys crib and saying "I'll take that one. He's my son." It gives me chills to think about.
Isn't that what Jesus did? He showed up to this huge orphanage called life and said, "that one, I want that one." And he paid a price, gave an inheritance, invited us home, became our family. Everyone's invited but not everyone has understood. What he did is still being talked about, it's still a source of wonder so many years later.
Very few children are adopted from Dom Veternik. When I spoke with one of the workers we struggled to communicate about the reality of adoption. She didn't understand why someone would adopt one of the children. They just live there.
I want to lift that bright eyed child who can't speak, or walk, or feed himself, out of his crib and carry him home. I want Lubitza and Anna and Yanna and Marina and Srjdan and Dragana and Zoran and whoever else is watching to rub their heads and wonder.
When I visited in October and held hands and sang and spoke softly to the treasures in beds Lubitza watched surprised. "Are there others like you?" she asked. I want to tell her that there is One so much better than me who cares and there's a band of us that imitate him.
I don't think I'll ever get over that boy. My heart is wounded, in a good way. I will never look at my worth in Jesus the same again. Even though carrying the burden of loving him, locked in my heart an ocean away, physically hurts I'm not sorry for it.
.jpg) |
| Look at that smile, he loves his physical therapist |
At night when Chris plays with our son and daughter making them squeal and run I imagine little boy sitting in a wheel chair, or on the couch beside me, throwing back his head and laughing in delight. I see his eyes crinkled shut in happy. I whisper a prayer that he will be rescued, that he will be loved, that the Spirit of God speaks kindness to his heart in the dark.
I don't think I would be the perfect mama, I know I would get tired and discouraged. I know I would have to give up a lot to care for him and the future would be uncertain. I know it would cost a lot to bring him home. But I think it should, I believe it reflects his worth. And even though I wouldn't be the perfect mama, I would be his.
How are you living out the gospel? Are you bending a submitted knee in a time of illness repeating our big Brother's words "not my will but yours Father." Are you pursuing truth like a pearl even when your coworkers pursue dishonest gain? Are you sowing God's word into your little ones hearts like a farmer scattering seed? The gospel is meant to lift off of the pages of the bible and be replayed over and over again in the hearts of God's people, coming alive in us just as it came alive in the hearts of Peter, Mary, Lazarus, John, Lydia and hundreds of others.
.JPG) |
| Bed ridden due to meningitis at age five |
Adoption isn't the only snapshot to portray the gospel, but the Bible highlights it as very dear to God's heart, a reflection of what he's done for us, a powerful catalyst of his love in an often bleak world. You may not feel led to adopt but I have no doubt that God has a role for you to play in the display of his good news of grace. What is he calling you to? How are you living out the gospel?
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