Orphan Sunday
Yes, I realize it was a week ago, but our church observed it yesterday. J. was asked to share his testimony. I was so proud of him. Here is what he said:
Good morning. Today we are recognizing orphan Sunday.
Let me begin by pointing
out that the children whose pictures you see projected here are real children
with real names who need real families.
Each of these children needs just one family to step forward to provide
the love and comfort that we take for granted.
If you need to know more about any of these children, please speak with
xxxx or xxxx following the service, or simply contact
the church and one of them will be happy to get in touch with you.
My name is J. and one
reason that I’m here before you on this orphan Sunday is because my family
looks a little different. We have many
children, some of whom are adopted from Asia, and this makes us
conspicuous. We joke that our family
motto is “outside acceptable parameters.”
Occasionally, some people
respond to our family by saying, “How do you do it?” or “Aren’t you wonderful!”
or “I could never do that.” The comments
are meant well, and we are grateful that we rarely hear the kinds of negative
reactions that some adoptive families elsewhere frequently hear (especially
adoptive families whose children’s color or physical or developmental special
need makes others uncomfortable). But
the implication is that we are essentially different from other people. We are a mystery: how and why would someone
intentionally allow their family to get like that? Unconsciously, those who set us apart as some
sort of aberration (a good aberration, of course, but aberrant, nonetheless)…
unconsciously, perhaps they are excusing themselves from responsibility.
But we are not
different. There is nothing special
about us. We do not have access to
special psychological, emotional, or financial resources that others don’t
have. Honestly, we had no idea what we
were getting into with adoption, and we still often feel as if we have no idea
what we are doing.
We are, quite literally,
incapable of being the kind of parents that our children need… at least, on our own we are incapable. Of course, the point here is that we are not
on our own. We are forced to rely on God
for even the smallest aspect of our parenting, and this is true of every other
aspect of our lives, as well. This is
what we have learned from adoption. If
we can adopt, then anyone can adopt. We
are not different.
I take that back. We are
different. But the difference is a result of having surrendered to God’s
call to adopt, not the reason for it. We
have been made different by adoption. We
have been irrevocably changed by our adoption experiences. I have discovered in new and deeper ways my
own brokenness, sinfulness, and self-centeredness. I have also discovered, though, the depth of
God’s love for me and his miraculous ability to provide for me in all
circumstances.
We are all orphans,
abandoned and without hope, until God adopts us into his family. And even then, what heartbreak we must cause
our loving Father as we reject his plans for us, rebel against his rules, run
from his presence, fight against him at every turn. Yet he does not let us go. His adoption of us is irrevocable and he will
be our father and we will be his children, no matter what we do or how we lash
out. His patience and correction will
not fail.
There are more than 140
million orphans and significantly at-risk children in the world. (If the world’s orphans were gathered
together in one territory, their population would make them the 10th
largest nation in the world… larger than Mexico, but just smaller than
Russia.) In the US, there are about
500,000 children in the nation’s foster care systems. More than 100,000 of these children are
waiting to be adopted.
But these kinds of numbers
are hard to grasp. Statistics can invoke
immediate shock and concern, but they generate little lasting change. Instead, imagine one child, a child you know…
perhaps one of your own children, or a niece or nephew… a grandchild… the child
of a friend or neighbor. Now imagine
that child abandoned and alone… imagine that child hungry… imagine that child trapped in a crib without
any human affection… imagine that child unable to receive even the most basic
of health care. What steps would you not
take to rescue that child?
I’m tempted to say that
none of this is meant to make you feel uncomfortable and that I know that not
everyone is able to adopt a child. But…
you know what? It is not for me to let
you off that hook. In fact, allow me to
pray that God may make you even more uncomfortable in days to come. Following Jesus is disturbing, and
disturbance is a necessary precursor to growth.
Comfort and security are
powerful idols in our slice of the western world. Our words say we trust God, but our actions
suggest that we put greater trust in education, career development, financial
security, retirement planning. Even when
we understand that value and purpose are not to be found in affluence, success,
and security, it is not easy to relinquish control and allow God to use us. However, if our lives are not knocked
off-center by God’s call, then perhaps we have not been adequately disturbed.
Adoption is messy; it
smashes the idol of the perfect family; it forces us to acknowledge that we are
not in control. Children who come from
hard places bring deep wounds. We are
learning to let go of our ideas about what life should be, our ambitions and
desires for the future, our claims to comfort and ease. In place of these things, God is giving us
peace that transcends all external circumstances and purpose in his kingdom.
Please carefully read the
handout you will receive as you leave worship today. It offers some ways that you can respond to
God’s call to care for orphans. As
today’s scripture readings from Isaiah and James remind us, there is never a
Sunday or any other day when God’s heart does not break for the
parentless. Nor is there a day when
caring for the parentless is optional in God’s kingdom.
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