It's so funny. When I look back at our journeys to Bradley and Asher, there are so many SPECIFIC instances I can point to that so clearly demonstrate God's sovereignty, His goodness, His love for us, His desire for His own name to be glorified. During those seemingly impossible years, Adam and I saw the Lord move in ways that are still beyond our comprehension. By God's grace alone, we found favor in the eyes of our government and the government of Ethiopia to proceed with an international adoption. With no experience as parents, we were somehow deemed suitable. As we walked what seemed to be an endless road toward parenthood, we watched God change our hearts, our marriage and, most importantly, our view of Him.
God glorified Himself in a breathtaking way as He slowly wound us toward our children. He used the platform of our family, our pain, our struggle and our redemption unto Him in order to bring glory to Himself alone. By compelling us to share our story as it was being written, He elevated His Name, allowing those walking the road with us to see what He alone is capable of achieving.
So why am I even a little bit surprised that He is doing the same EXACT thing this time around as we run toward our daughter in China? Don't know what I'm talking about? Allow me to explain.
We have been finished with our homestudy for awhile now. Which means we have been waiting on our immigration approval before we can send everything over to China and become a family waiting to be matched. More or less, our case has been in the hands of the U.S. government, and I have become a mailbox stalker, checking each and every day to see if our approval letter has come.
For a host of reasons, I have not been able to document this adoption process as thoroughly as I did the first. Something about a three year old and a one year old living in our house. But on Friday, I did share via Facebook a post that I had written four years ago that day. It talked about focusing on Christ instead of all the hardship and impossibility raging around us. At that time, I was thinking a lot about Peter walking on the water, doing the impossible only because Christ was enabling him to do it. So I shared that post again on Friday and asked our community to please pray that our clearance letter would come by the end of the following week.
Not two hours later, I received an email from immigration telling me that our case had been approved and that we could expect our clearance to arrive within 3-5 business days. EXACTLY THE TIME FRAME I HAD ASKED OUR FRIENDS TO PRAY FOR. I couldn't believe it (though I don't know why; the Lord has already moved mountains for us in this process). The thing I had been begging for for WEEKS. We share it publicly and get response in a matter of hours.
And I have a theory about that. God wanted to give Himself the glory. Might it have happened this way regardless? Sure. But I know for certain that when the Lord moves, He does so for our good and for His own glory. And I believe wholeheartedly that our sharing this request with our community provided an opportunity for God's sovereignty, goodness, faithfulness, everythingness to be on full display for more than just our family.
BUT THAT'S NOT ALL.
Yesterday morning, I got a phone call from our case worker. Somehow, she already had her copy of our clearance IN HER HAND. I thought it would be Friday at least before she had it. But then GOD. He is sovereign over the postal service! So our last document was sent for translation today!
And isn't that just like our Heavenly Father? We ask for something that feels impossible to us, and God not only does it, but then does something we wouldn't have even thought to ask for because it's actually beyond the realm of human possibility. He is bigger than we are!
So I tell you all this to keep you updated on our progress toward Baby Knott #3. But even more, I tell you this to remind us all of Whom we serve. He is a great and powerful God, and His Name deserves to be exalted high. So when God is doing something incredible in your life, SHARE IT. Not to turn the spotlight on yourself, but to shine it brightly on the Lord Almighty, to give Him the glory and honor that are rightly His.
With love,
Baylor
Showing posts with label Adoption and the Gospel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adoption and the Gospel. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Orphan Sunday
November is National Adoption Month and today is Orphan Sunday. I'm sitting here trying to sort out all that this means for my family and for the Gospel. Needless to day, there is a LOT swirling around in my head today. The care of orphans is so very central to the heart of God. His love for the fatherless was the catalyst for sending Christ to the cross. His death and resurrection are the means by which we can be adopted into God's family. A deep sacrifice that led to the creation of a beautiful family.
This truth is one I have heard countless times before. But it is different this year.
This year I know what it is to get a phone call telling you that you have a son. I know that it is to walk into an orphanage and see the child you love, your own child, sitting among the fatherless. I know what it means to stand before a judge and tell him, "Yes, I understand that this {the adoption of my child} is permanent and cannot be undone.” I know what it is to walk out of an orphanage with your child in your arms and know that the term “orphan” no longer applies to his life. I know the vast and glorious reward that comes from fighting for your child.
The harsh reality is that there are 153 MILLION orphans living on our planet today. That number is far too staggering to comprehend. I don't think I have ever seen 153 million of anything, let alone children who need and DESERVE families. And because that number is so mind-numbingly huge, it is easy to ignore. I used to have this discussion with my students when we studied the Holocaust and the loss of six million Jewish lives in one war. We would talk about how the enormity of the number tempts us to hold it at arm's length, to keep it impersonal. And then we would talk about how wrong it is to do that.
The same holds true here. One hundred fifty three million children without families is not acceptable. It should not be acceptable to a secular society with any kind of moral compass, but it most certainly should not be acceptable to the church.
We, as Christians, have been adopted. We were spiritual orphans, and God DID SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. He MOVED. He SACRIFICED. And He did so because of LOVE. He loves us. Enough that He was willing to do the unthinkable to redeem us unto Himself.
How then can we, as recipients of such lavish love close our hearts and homes to those who are exactly where we were? We simply cannot. We cannot let that number intimidate us or keep us from action. We cannot fall victim to the lie that because we cannot do everything that we might as well do nothing. There is not an immediate solution to the orphan crisis. It is something that will be taken on one life, one child at a time. And that is OK. All we have to do is being willing to walk where God leads.
Clearly, I am an adoption advocate. Adoption gave me one of my most precious gifts: my son, but please know that I am not saying every Christian should adopt (although I would love that!). I am saying that every Christ follower must be involved in some way in caring for the fatherless. It is God's heartbeat. He commands it. And it is too beautiful for words.
There are so many way to do this:
-Adoption
-Foster care
-Orphan care ministries
-Orphan prevention ministries
-Birth mother ministries
-Respite care for foster families
God calls us to love the world and that means loving the people who live in it.
With deep love,
Baylor
This truth is one I have heard countless times before. But it is different this year.
This year I know what it is to get a phone call telling you that you have a son. I know that it is to walk into an orphanage and see the child you love, your own child, sitting among the fatherless. I know what it means to stand before a judge and tell him, "Yes, I understand that this {the adoption of my child} is permanent and cannot be undone.” I know what it is to walk out of an orphanage with your child in your arms and know that the term “orphan” no longer applies to his life. I know the vast and glorious reward that comes from fighting for your child.
The harsh reality is that there are 153 MILLION orphans living on our planet today. That number is far too staggering to comprehend. I don't think I have ever seen 153 million of anything, let alone children who need and DESERVE families. And because that number is so mind-numbingly huge, it is easy to ignore. I used to have this discussion with my students when we studied the Holocaust and the loss of six million Jewish lives in one war. We would talk about how the enormity of the number tempts us to hold it at arm's length, to keep it impersonal. And then we would talk about how wrong it is to do that.
The same holds true here. One hundred fifty three million children without families is not acceptable. It should not be acceptable to a secular society with any kind of moral compass, but it most certainly should not be acceptable to the church.
We, as Christians, have been adopted. We were spiritual orphans, and God DID SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. He MOVED. He SACRIFICED. And He did so because of LOVE. He loves us. Enough that He was willing to do the unthinkable to redeem us unto Himself.
How then can we, as recipients of such lavish love close our hearts and homes to those who are exactly where we were? We simply cannot. We cannot let that number intimidate us or keep us from action. We cannot fall victim to the lie that because we cannot do everything that we might as well do nothing. There is not an immediate solution to the orphan crisis. It is something that will be taken on one life, one child at a time. And that is OK. All we have to do is being willing to walk where God leads.
Clearly, I am an adoption advocate. Adoption gave me one of my most precious gifts: my son, but please know that I am not saying every Christian should adopt (although I would love that!). I am saying that every Christ follower must be involved in some way in caring for the fatherless. It is God's heartbeat. He commands it. And it is too beautiful for words.
There are so many way to do this:
-Adoption
-Foster care
-Orphan care ministries
-Orphan prevention ministries
-Birth mother ministries
-Respite care for foster families
God calls us to love the world and that means loving the people who live in it.
“Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.”
John 13:35
“For He chose us before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love, He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ in accordance to His pleasure and will, to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves.”
Ephesians 1:4-6
With deep love,
Baylor
Monday, May 4, 2015
The Gospel Comes Near
There were so many wonderful things to be learned and taken in at the CAFO summit last week. So many, in fact, that there came a point when my brain went into overload and became incapable of processing any more information. I want to try to work through some of these things, and I want to start in a place that I believe is not only at the heart of adoption but at the heart of Christianity.
The Gospel comes near.
Jed Medefind, president of CAFO, said this during his message on Thursday morning, and it has been bouncing around in my head ever since.
It is so simple. So true.
So easy to overlook.
There is this human tendency that I believe we all possess. It is a drive that whispers and tells us to stay away from the hard things. To surround ourselves with people who believe what we believe, do what we do, think what we think. To keep the "others" at arm's length so that we won't be challenged to change anything about ourselves or our lives. Human nature tells us to sit back and stay where it is comfortable.
Jesus says the opposite.
Jesus calls us to hard places, broken places, even dangerous places. And He calls us there, not because He longs to see us suffer, but because He longs for His name to be made known to ALL people. Not just the people no seem to have it together or the people who have ready access to the Bible or the people who fit into a certain mold, a mold that looks suspiciously like us. No. The Gospel is for all mankind, and in order to get the Gospel to all mankind, we have to be willing to get near all kinds of men.
The Gospel comes near.
Sure, it may make us uncomfortable. It may result in some awkward moments and strained relationships. But aren't we thankful that someone took that risk with us? Thankful that someone loved us enough to set the potential for hurt feelings aside long enough to share the most important thing in the world?
I submit that the same is true for Christians seeking to live out a James 1:27 kind of life. God commands us to care for the fatherless, and that is just simply not something we can do from a distance. It is not enough to be aware, to raise awareness. We must actually act. We must draw near, be in the trenches, committed to doing whatever it takes.
Because the cause is worth it.
Every single child on the face of the earth deserves a family. It is not something that should have to be earned or begged for.
So we have an important question to ask ourselves.
Do we believe this? Not just enough to acknowledge it as truth, but enough to be spurred into action and do something? Do we believe it in a such a way as to act as though it was OUR child in need of a family?
Because if we do, then sitting by and acknowledging the need is not enough. Just as Christ was compelled to leave His Father's side to redeem us unto Himself, so to just we be moved to action.
Maybe that means adoption. Maybe it means foster care. Maybe it means serving as a mentor or supporting family advocacy groups around the world.
Whatever it is, it is caring for those God has in His heart.
It will be difficult. It will be messy. Guaranteed.
But the Gospel draws near.
You will run the risk of being hurt or feeling rejected. But so did He.
And so we must share the Gospel with conviction. We must care for the fatherless with love. And we must trust that God will use us as His instruments to reach the ends of the earth for His name's sake, for His glory.
This is no easy charge. I struggle with it ALL.THE.TIME. But God demands real and radical sacrifice. And He is worthy of it. His banner over us is love, and His cause is salvation. There is nothing greater.
So I challenge you as I challenge myself. To reach out beyond the circle of those who mirror us and into the places where God's name is not yet revered. To take a risk and ask the Lord how we can practically love the fatherless and then listen and ACT when He responds. We are His church, and this is our calling.
The Gospel comes near.
Jed Medefind, president of CAFO, said this during his message on Thursday morning, and it has been bouncing around in my head ever since.
It is so simple. So true.
So easy to overlook.
There is this human tendency that I believe we all possess. It is a drive that whispers and tells us to stay away from the hard things. To surround ourselves with people who believe what we believe, do what we do, think what we think. To keep the "others" at arm's length so that we won't be challenged to change anything about ourselves or our lives. Human nature tells us to sit back and stay where it is comfortable.
Jesus says the opposite.
Jesus calls us to hard places, broken places, even dangerous places. And He calls us there, not because He longs to see us suffer, but because He longs for His name to be made known to ALL people. Not just the people no seem to have it together or the people who have ready access to the Bible or the people who fit into a certain mold, a mold that looks suspiciously like us. No. The Gospel is for all mankind, and in order to get the Gospel to all mankind, we have to be willing to get near all kinds of men.
The Gospel comes near.
Sure, it may make us uncomfortable. It may result in some awkward moments and strained relationships. But aren't we thankful that someone took that risk with us? Thankful that someone loved us enough to set the potential for hurt feelings aside long enough to share the most important thing in the world?
I submit that the same is true for Christians seeking to live out a James 1:27 kind of life. God commands us to care for the fatherless, and that is just simply not something we can do from a distance. It is not enough to be aware, to raise awareness. We must actually act. We must draw near, be in the trenches, committed to doing whatever it takes.
Because the cause is worth it.
Every single child on the face of the earth deserves a family. It is not something that should have to be earned or begged for.
So we have an important question to ask ourselves.
Do we believe this? Not just enough to acknowledge it as truth, but enough to be spurred into action and do something? Do we believe it in a such a way as to act as though it was OUR child in need of a family?
Because if we do, then sitting by and acknowledging the need is not enough. Just as Christ was compelled to leave His Father's side to redeem us unto Himself, so to just we be moved to action.
Maybe that means adoption. Maybe it means foster care. Maybe it means serving as a mentor or supporting family advocacy groups around the world.
Whatever it is, it is caring for those God has in His heart.
It will be difficult. It will be messy. Guaranteed.
But the Gospel draws near.
You will run the risk of being hurt or feeling rejected. But so did He.
And so we must share the Gospel with conviction. We must care for the fatherless with love. And we must trust that God will use us as His instruments to reach the ends of the earth for His name's sake, for His glory.
This is no easy charge. I struggle with it ALL.THE.TIME. But God demands real and radical sacrifice. And He is worthy of it. His banner over us is love, and His cause is salvation. There is nothing greater.
So I challenge you as I challenge myself. To reach out beyond the circle of those who mirror us and into the places where God's name is not yet revered. To take a risk and ask the Lord how we can practically love the fatherless and then listen and ACT when He responds. We are His church, and this is our calling.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Embracing the Change
So much change is on my horizon. And it's funny because for the last few years, my main *complaint* about my life is that nothing has changed. I was looking around at the lives of all of my friends and seeing how everything was transforming for them. I saw them become parents and the joy that brought to their lives. And that was completely missing for me.
Or so I thought.
It is true that my life, our life, had not undergone any real physical change. At least not in the way it is about to here soon.
But there was this other thing going on. This very intense, very painful, very personal but very real thing.
God was using the "sameness" of our circumstance to bring about a DRASTIC change in me as a person. And for some reason (very likely selfish pride), I was rejecting it. I was refusing to acknowledge what He was doing because doing so would mean that I would have to change who I was, change what I had decided I wanted out of life.
But now here we are, on the edge of such a deep life change, and I find myself feeling so thankful that God allowed all of that sameness I hated so much. I would not be ready for what is coming next without it. I would still be selfishly pursuing what I want our of life without pausing to ask God what He wants out of my life.
I have realized over the last three years that my life is not one dimensional, that there can be so much more to the legacy I leave than what my label is. Wife. Mom. Teacher. Writer. All of those things are beautiful and good and gifts from God. But those things are not what define me, and I don't want my whole legacy to be that I was a really good _____________. I want to make a mark on this world for the sake of Jesus Christ and His Kingdom. I want to matter. I want an extraordinary and significant life.
The idea of an extraordinary life is something we discuss a LOT at Fort Knott. Adam and I both want that for ourselves and for our family. I think most people do. The hard part about living an extraordinary life is that it usually requires sacrifice. Sometimes a deep and painful one. And I think that is where we hesitate. Right? Because we want significant. We want to be extraordinary. But we want it on our terms. We want it to look the way we think it should look. We want it to be easy, to not have to change anything to achieve it.
And extraordinary-ness (just invented a word!) is not cheap. It will cost us something.
It can be so hard to be willing to pay the price, too. Believe me. The Lord has asked something BIG of my life. He has asked me to walk away from what I thought my whole life would look like and the embrace the change that is the life He has always had for me.
The real question I was being asked was, "Do you trust me?"
I had these carefully laid plans that looked really good to me. Plans that would make me happy and give me what I want. But God said no. He asked me to walk away from the life I had imagined, and He did it without telling me what the end result would be. For a long time, I fought back. Oh, I went along with the new plan, but I never really let go of what I thought was best. God has used this incredibly difficult and heart-wrenching thing called adoption to change me in every way. I am not the same woman I was when we set out on this journey in April of 2012. And I feel like my feet are on the path to an extraordinary life, if I can just embrace the change that God has for me along the way.
I think so much about Peter here. I feel like he wanted so badly to be extraordinary, to make a Kingdom impact. And so often, he seemed to put the cart before the horse and end up with his foot in his mouth as a result. But then I look at him walking on water. Truly extraordinary. In order to do that, though, he had to make a sacrifice. He had to give up the safety of the boat. He had to, in a very real way, put his life on the line and in the hands of Jesus. BUT HE DID IT. He set aside his fears and what he knew to be physically, humanly possible, and he stepped out of the boat. He knew that he could not walk across the surface of the sea, but he also knew that Jesus was wholly and completely trustworthy. So he abandoned what he knew made sense and embraced what Jesus was about to do.
The result?
Just like Jesus, Peter walked on water. Through the power of Jesus, Peter did the impossible. But he had to be willing to let go.
Let's let go. Let's trust the God who created the whole universe to properly mange our lives. I'm not saying it is easy; I'm actually saying that it is really hard. But He can be trusted, and He is always only ever good.
I've experienced this in such a real way. My life does NOT look the way I thought it would. It looks better. Yes, it is has been so difficult. Still is. But I see so much good in it. I see God in it and in me. And those are things I WAS NOT SEEING three years ago. Three years ago, I was seeing me. Now I am seeing what God has for me. Far greater, far more beautiful.
Embrace the change.
Love,
Baylor
Or so I thought.
It is true that my life, our life, had not undergone any real physical change. At least not in the way it is about to here soon.
But there was this other thing going on. This very intense, very painful, very personal but very real thing.
God was using the "sameness" of our circumstance to bring about a DRASTIC change in me as a person. And for some reason (very likely selfish pride), I was rejecting it. I was refusing to acknowledge what He was doing because doing so would mean that I would have to change who I was, change what I had decided I wanted out of life.
But now here we are, on the edge of such a deep life change, and I find myself feeling so thankful that God allowed all of that sameness I hated so much. I would not be ready for what is coming next without it. I would still be selfishly pursuing what I want our of life without pausing to ask God what He wants out of my life.
I have realized over the last three years that my life is not one dimensional, that there can be so much more to the legacy I leave than what my label is. Wife. Mom. Teacher. Writer. All of those things are beautiful and good and gifts from God. But those things are not what define me, and I don't want my whole legacy to be that I was a really good _____________. I want to make a mark on this world for the sake of Jesus Christ and His Kingdom. I want to matter. I want an extraordinary and significant life.
The idea of an extraordinary life is something we discuss a LOT at Fort Knott. Adam and I both want that for ourselves and for our family. I think most people do. The hard part about living an extraordinary life is that it usually requires sacrifice. Sometimes a deep and painful one. And I think that is where we hesitate. Right? Because we want significant. We want to be extraordinary. But we want it on our terms. We want it to look the way we think it should look. We want it to be easy, to not have to change anything to achieve it.
And extraordinary-ness (just invented a word!) is not cheap. It will cost us something.
It can be so hard to be willing to pay the price, too. Believe me. The Lord has asked something BIG of my life. He has asked me to walk away from what I thought my whole life would look like and the embrace the change that is the life He has always had for me.
The real question I was being asked was, "Do you trust me?"
I had these carefully laid plans that looked really good to me. Plans that would make me happy and give me what I want. But God said no. He asked me to walk away from the life I had imagined, and He did it without telling me what the end result would be. For a long time, I fought back. Oh, I went along with the new plan, but I never really let go of what I thought was best. God has used this incredibly difficult and heart-wrenching thing called adoption to change me in every way. I am not the same woman I was when we set out on this journey in April of 2012. And I feel like my feet are on the path to an extraordinary life, if I can just embrace the change that God has for me along the way.
I think so much about Peter here. I feel like he wanted so badly to be extraordinary, to make a Kingdom impact. And so often, he seemed to put the cart before the horse and end up with his foot in his mouth as a result. But then I look at him walking on water. Truly extraordinary. In order to do that, though, he had to make a sacrifice. He had to give up the safety of the boat. He had to, in a very real way, put his life on the line and in the hands of Jesus. BUT HE DID IT. He set aside his fears and what he knew to be physically, humanly possible, and he stepped out of the boat. He knew that he could not walk across the surface of the sea, but he also knew that Jesus was wholly and completely trustworthy. So he abandoned what he knew made sense and embraced what Jesus was about to do.
The result?
Just like Jesus, Peter walked on water. Through the power of Jesus, Peter did the impossible. But he had to be willing to let go.
Let's let go. Let's trust the God who created the whole universe to properly mange our lives. I'm not saying it is easy; I'm actually saying that it is really hard. But He can be trusted, and He is always only ever good.
I've experienced this in such a real way. My life does NOT look the way I thought it would. It looks better. Yes, it is has been so difficult. Still is. But I see so much good in it. I see God in it and in me. And those are things I WAS NOT SEEING three years ago. Three years ago, I was seeing me. Now I am seeing what God has for me. Far greater, far more beautiful.
Embrace the change.
Love,
Baylor
Sunday, January 11, 2015
An Overcomer
While driving home from work on Friday, I was thinking about everything that has happened in my life over the last three years on this journey to our son. I was in the middle of considering all that I have endured over these incredibly long and difficult years, and the Lord stopped me right there.
These are not things I have endured. These are things that, through the sovereign grace of God, I have overcome. There is an enormous difference between those two words and all that they imply.
So much of our adoption journey has left me feeling as though I have merely survived. Like I am dragging my bruised and bloodied self toward the finish line where I will collapse in a heap and say, "I made it." But that is absolutely not what God is doing. Yes, He is allowing me to experience things I NEVER thought this life would bring me. Yes, this path to our son has been the single most difficult thing God has ever asked me to do. Yes, there have been MANY days when I wanted to completely give up and walk away because it was all just too hard. And it would be so easy (and would be my natural inclination) to sit here tonight and tell you that by the grade of God I have SURVIVED these things.
But I haven't.
I have overcome them.
Now, that is not me tooting my own horn. My horn went out the window (along with my expectations) a LONG time ago. There is simply nothing left to boast about, save for the awesome power of God through the blood of Jesus Christ. I look back at the last three years of my life, and I fully and completely see that God has brought me to where I am IN SPITE of me, not because of me. And He alone has allowed me to OVERCOME the trials and obstacles this life has brought. That is huge.
To overcome something is to move past it in victory. And when I look at this journey to my son, that is what I see behind me. A loooooong path of twists, turns and pits that have not merely been survived. They have been overcome. Let's look at some of them.
Attacks on my marriage. If there was one thing about this adoption process that came completely out of left field for me, it is how much this would impact my marriage. Wanting kids, adopting, meeting deadlines that seem to hold the fate of your family in their hands… Those are tough things. Aching to hold your child, to see his face. Those are things that seem impossible to bear. And my husband is the lucky soul who got to live with me through all of it. He has seen the good, the bad and the unspeakably ugly. Whenever someone tells me that I am handling this so well, I politely suggest that they run that by Adam. He might be singing a different song. But God has been so, so, SO faithful to us in this. Our marriage has withstood some fiery trials and some not so graceful moments (almost exclusively on my behalf) and has come out on the other side stronger than I ever thought possible. Deciding to adopt is no small thing. You are handing over the future of your family, and the process is a long one. You have to decide together that you are willing to stand firm through whatever comes your way, that you will stay together and fight for your child together and pray together and believe together that God has called you to this. Before this, Adam and I stood face to face in love. Now, we also stand side by side in battle, willing and ready to do whatever it takes to protect and provide for our family. We have stared some of the darkest adversity in the face and refused to give in. We have cast our burdens on the Lord, and He has carried us. None of this was done in our own strength. Not at all. God's grace and love and mercy have flooded into our lives and our marriage, and we we have overcome what seemed impossible.
Attacks on my faith. Oh, this is a deep one. I have never, not once in my life, doubted God. Then we started our adoption. At so many points throughout this journey it has felt like I was totally and completely alone. Like God was nowhere to be found. And I was left to figure out if God is, in fact, who I have always believed Him to be. There were dark days, my friends. Days when I felt so certain that I had been abandoned. Days when I cried out to God begging for Him to say something, anything. And on many of those days, in His infinite wisdom, God remained silent. He chose to let me rediscover Him for myself. He never let me go, never let me out of His sight or out of the reach of His almighty hand. But He did let me take a long, hard look at my own heart and my faith. He let me search my soul and His Word to see if He is the One True God, sovereign and incomprehensibly good. I doubted, feared, cried, raged and begged. And He let me. He let me experience all of those things. He let me experience all of those things so that when I came up on the other side, I would know beyond the shadow of any doubt that He is EXACTLY who He says He is. He helped me overcome my doubt and my fear, my anger and my hurt. And He showed me that He has been right here with me all along.
I have said it before. God has met NONE of my expectations. But He has surpassed them all. He has helped me not just survive the trials of the adoption journey and of life in general, really. He has showed me how to overcome them. I am still working on it, believe me. There are days when I have to coach myself, "My son is coming home. God will bring him home. He is ours, and God is in this." So I am not perfect by any stretch, but God has shown me, through this incredible thing called adoption, that I can be more than a survivor; I can be an overcomer.
And you can, too! I don't know what your trial is, what the thing is that God has asked you to do. But I know that if He has indeed called you to it, then He will equip you for it. There will be days when you feel like you are just surviving. I have had too many of those to count, but He is strengthening you for something greater. And when you get to the other side, you will get to look back and say, "Look at what God has allowed me to overcome." And it is my hope that your heart will swell with gratitude, because being an overcomer means that God is training you up for something incredible.
Love,
Baylor
These are not things I have endured. These are things that, through the sovereign grace of God, I have overcome. There is an enormous difference between those two words and all that they imply.
So much of our adoption journey has left me feeling as though I have merely survived. Like I am dragging my bruised and bloodied self toward the finish line where I will collapse in a heap and say, "I made it." But that is absolutely not what God is doing. Yes, He is allowing me to experience things I NEVER thought this life would bring me. Yes, this path to our son has been the single most difficult thing God has ever asked me to do. Yes, there have been MANY days when I wanted to completely give up and walk away because it was all just too hard. And it would be so easy (and would be my natural inclination) to sit here tonight and tell you that by the grade of God I have SURVIVED these things.
But I haven't.
I have overcome them.
Now, that is not me tooting my own horn. My horn went out the window (along with my expectations) a LONG time ago. There is simply nothing left to boast about, save for the awesome power of God through the blood of Jesus Christ. I look back at the last three years of my life, and I fully and completely see that God has brought me to where I am IN SPITE of me, not because of me. And He alone has allowed me to OVERCOME the trials and obstacles this life has brought. That is huge.
To overcome something is to move past it in victory. And when I look at this journey to my son, that is what I see behind me. A loooooong path of twists, turns and pits that have not merely been survived. They have been overcome. Let's look at some of them.
Attacks on my marriage. If there was one thing about this adoption process that came completely out of left field for me, it is how much this would impact my marriage. Wanting kids, adopting, meeting deadlines that seem to hold the fate of your family in their hands… Those are tough things. Aching to hold your child, to see his face. Those are things that seem impossible to bear. And my husband is the lucky soul who got to live with me through all of it. He has seen the good, the bad and the unspeakably ugly. Whenever someone tells me that I am handling this so well, I politely suggest that they run that by Adam. He might be singing a different song. But God has been so, so, SO faithful to us in this. Our marriage has withstood some fiery trials and some not so graceful moments (almost exclusively on my behalf) and has come out on the other side stronger than I ever thought possible. Deciding to adopt is no small thing. You are handing over the future of your family, and the process is a long one. You have to decide together that you are willing to stand firm through whatever comes your way, that you will stay together and fight for your child together and pray together and believe together that God has called you to this. Before this, Adam and I stood face to face in love. Now, we also stand side by side in battle, willing and ready to do whatever it takes to protect and provide for our family. We have stared some of the darkest adversity in the face and refused to give in. We have cast our burdens on the Lord, and He has carried us. None of this was done in our own strength. Not at all. God's grace and love and mercy have flooded into our lives and our marriage, and we we have overcome what seemed impossible.
Attacks on my faith. Oh, this is a deep one. I have never, not once in my life, doubted God. Then we started our adoption. At so many points throughout this journey it has felt like I was totally and completely alone. Like God was nowhere to be found. And I was left to figure out if God is, in fact, who I have always believed Him to be. There were dark days, my friends. Days when I felt so certain that I had been abandoned. Days when I cried out to God begging for Him to say something, anything. And on many of those days, in His infinite wisdom, God remained silent. He chose to let me rediscover Him for myself. He never let me go, never let me out of His sight or out of the reach of His almighty hand. But He did let me take a long, hard look at my own heart and my faith. He let me search my soul and His Word to see if He is the One True God, sovereign and incomprehensibly good. I doubted, feared, cried, raged and begged. And He let me. He let me experience all of those things. He let me experience all of those things so that when I came up on the other side, I would know beyond the shadow of any doubt that He is EXACTLY who He says He is. He helped me overcome my doubt and my fear, my anger and my hurt. And He showed me that He has been right here with me all along.
I have said it before. God has met NONE of my expectations. But He has surpassed them all. He has helped me not just survive the trials of the adoption journey and of life in general, really. He has showed me how to overcome them. I am still working on it, believe me. There are days when I have to coach myself, "My son is coming home. God will bring him home. He is ours, and God is in this." So I am not perfect by any stretch, but God has shown me, through this incredible thing called adoption, that I can be more than a survivor; I can be an overcomer.
And you can, too! I don't know what your trial is, what the thing is that God has asked you to do. But I know that if He has indeed called you to it, then He will equip you for it. There will be days when you feel like you are just surviving. I have had too many of those to count, but He is strengthening you for something greater. And when you get to the other side, you will get to look back and say, "Look at what God has allowed me to overcome." And it is my hope that your heart will swell with gratitude, because being an overcomer means that God is training you up for something incredible.
Love,
Baylor
Monday, December 29, 2014
Just Like Your Dad
If you have ever met my family, then you know I am the spitting image of my mother. Seriously. We look EXACTLY alike. It's kind of strange. We are often stared at when we are out in public. Once, when I was young, I thought I saw a picture of myself in my grandmother's house, and I asked my mom, "Where was this taken? I don't remember this." It was a picture of her. Yup. That's right. We look so much alike that I couldn't even tell us apart. And you know what?
I LOVE that.
I love that I look just like my mom. She is the woman I admire most in the entire world. I love everything about her. She has a fierce faith and a devoted heart. She loves her God and her family. She is honest and wise, reliable and wholly trustworthy. It is an honor for me to bear such a striking resemblance to her.
I have always wondered what it would be like to one day look into the face of my daughter and see my own self reflected. More than that, though, I have dreamed of the day when I would look at my son and be able to say things like, "You look just like your dad when you do that."
And then God called us to this life of adoption. A life that ensures our children will NOT look like us. Part of that has been hard. There is something incredibly unique about seeing yourself in your children. Even now, so much of the discussion that swirls around the children of my dearest friends is focused on determining who the child looks like. Mom or dad? That is not a conversation that will be happening in the Knott household.
Our perfectly beautiful son does not look like us.
I thought that would be so hard for me. Not the idea of adopting. I LOVE adoption. Love it more than I could ever attempt to explain to you. I thought it would be hard to never look into the face of my son and think, "Goodness, he looks just like Adam."
But then God gave me a gift.
A truth.
It's not about physical appearance. It's ALL about spiritual appearance.
You see, I am adopted, too. I have been, through the saving blood of Jesus Christ, adopted into God's family. Permanently. Forever. I don't look a THING like Him. Not one bit. But He has covered me with His grace and mercy. He has washed away my sin and made me white as snow. He has made me His daughter. And I like to think that when I am following His will for my life, He looks at the angels around Him and at Jesus, His Son, and says, "Doesn't she look just like us when she does that?"
That thought alone pulls me close to tears. And then I realized that I will have THAT opportunity with my own son. I might not be able to look at him and think he physically looks just like his dad, but I am praying and hoping for the day when I can watch him follow God's great plan for his life and think to myself, "You look just like your dad when you do that."
Because that is what I know his earthly father will model for him. A life that lives fully and wholly sold out to Christ. And in looking like his earthly father, my sweet boy will be living a life that follows his heavenly father. And you know what? I can't think of two souls I would rather have my son imitate.
Do we do that enough? Try to emulate Christ? It is our life's calling. Are we answering? When people look at us, are they thinking we look just like our Heavenly Father? If not, we need to shift our focus. We need to point ourselves and our lives toward Him and ask Him what He desires of our lives. We need to be brave enough to follow Him, whatever the path.
I LOVE that.
I love that I look just like my mom. She is the woman I admire most in the entire world. I love everything about her. She has a fierce faith and a devoted heart. She loves her God and her family. She is honest and wise, reliable and wholly trustworthy. It is an honor for me to bear such a striking resemblance to her.
I have always wondered what it would be like to one day look into the face of my daughter and see my own self reflected. More than that, though, I have dreamed of the day when I would look at my son and be able to say things like, "You look just like your dad when you do that."
And then God called us to this life of adoption. A life that ensures our children will NOT look like us. Part of that has been hard. There is something incredibly unique about seeing yourself in your children. Even now, so much of the discussion that swirls around the children of my dearest friends is focused on determining who the child looks like. Mom or dad? That is not a conversation that will be happening in the Knott household.
Our perfectly beautiful son does not look like us.
I thought that would be so hard for me. Not the idea of adopting. I LOVE adoption. Love it more than I could ever attempt to explain to you. I thought it would be hard to never look into the face of my son and think, "Goodness, he looks just like Adam."
But then God gave me a gift.
A truth.
It's not about physical appearance. It's ALL about spiritual appearance.
You see, I am adopted, too. I have been, through the saving blood of Jesus Christ, adopted into God's family. Permanently. Forever. I don't look a THING like Him. Not one bit. But He has covered me with His grace and mercy. He has washed away my sin and made me white as snow. He has made me His daughter. And I like to think that when I am following His will for my life, He looks at the angels around Him and at Jesus, His Son, and says, "Doesn't she look just like us when she does that?"
That thought alone pulls me close to tears. And then I realized that I will have THAT opportunity with my own son. I might not be able to look at him and think he physically looks just like his dad, but I am praying and hoping for the day when I can watch him follow God's great plan for his life and think to myself, "You look just like your dad when you do that."
Because that is what I know his earthly father will model for him. A life that lives fully and wholly sold out to Christ. And in looking like his earthly father, my sweet boy will be living a life that follows his heavenly father. And you know what? I can't think of two souls I would rather have my son imitate.
Do we do that enough? Try to emulate Christ? It is our life's calling. Are we answering? When people look at us, are they thinking we look just like our Heavenly Father? If not, we need to shift our focus. We need to point ourselves and our lives toward Him and ask Him what He desires of our lives. We need to be brave enough to follow Him, whatever the path.
Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.
Ephesians 5:1-2
Love,
Baylor
Monday, November 17, 2014
My Story is His Story
I have spent a good deal of time this past week reflecting over all that has transpired in my life over the last almost four years on this journey to parenthood. Goodness, so much has changed. When I think back to specific times, times full of excitement and others overflowing with sadness, I am amazed to have come through it all. And in that, I know, is the grace and goodness of God. This journey is by no means over. We haven't been matched yet. But I have arrived in this place where I am enjoying looking at the story God is writing in my life, and I am coming to the realization that my story is actually His story.
You see, this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. Thirty is staring me in the face and motherhood is not yet in sight. There is hope on the horizon, yes, but nothing certain. I thought that by now, we would be adopting our first child to add to the two already in our home. But that is not the case. We only have one child. And she has four legs.
So this is not the story I wrote for myself when I was younger. My story was not nearly this dramatic. It's the story God wrote for me before the dawn of time. He knew all of these things would happen. He knew the moments that would fill us with joy and anticipation. He knew the moments that would threaten to drown us in sorrow and hardship. He knew the days that I would rage in anger at the apparent unfairness of it all and even at Him. He knew the moments when I would be so totally and completely overwhelmed with love for my little Ethiopians that I would cry just thinking about them.
He knew all of those things, and He is using them to write this incredible story. A story that I cannot believe is mine. He is revealing to me the depth of His own love for His children and just a tiny glimpse of the hardship and sacrifice He endured to redeem us unto Himself. He is showing me that He can strengthen a woman, this woman, to withstand the most difficult and heart wrenching of tests and that He can carry her through those tests. He is showing me that I cannot be taken away from Him, no matter how hard the enemy tries and no matter how much I want to give up and give in. He is showing me that the love between a man and his bride can be the deepest, most profound example of Christ's love for the church and that that is exactly what it should be. He is showing me that the greatest thing we have on earth to advance the Kingdom of God is love. He is showing me that a mother's love for her children will cause her to willingly endure all kinds of hardships, impossibilities, disappointments, ridicule, loneliness, desperation and heartache and that she will keep coming back for more because her children are WORTH it. And He is showing me that HE feels the same way about US.
God has used this incredible thing called adoption to open my eyes, maybe just a little bit, to the startling reality of His love for us. His children. The children He adopted through the redemptive blood of Jesus Christ. The children He fought for and suffered for.
So when I say that my story is His story, I don't mean that I am like God. I'm not. Trust me. I mean that He is using the story He is writing in my life to reveal His character to me. And He is doing in the most radical of ways. This is not the path I would have chosen, but God has my attention. And I am ready to see what's next.
Maybe God is doing something awesome and redemptive in your life, too. Maybe it is NOT what you thought it would be. Hang in there, dear friend. He is working. He is writing a story in your life that is actually His story. Let him.
You see, this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. Thirty is staring me in the face and motherhood is not yet in sight. There is hope on the horizon, yes, but nothing certain. I thought that by now, we would be adopting our first child to add to the two already in our home. But that is not the case. We only have one child. And she has four legs.
So this is not the story I wrote for myself when I was younger. My story was not nearly this dramatic. It's the story God wrote for me before the dawn of time. He knew all of these things would happen. He knew the moments that would fill us with joy and anticipation. He knew the moments that would threaten to drown us in sorrow and hardship. He knew the days that I would rage in anger at the apparent unfairness of it all and even at Him. He knew the moments when I would be so totally and completely overwhelmed with love for my little Ethiopians that I would cry just thinking about them.
He knew all of those things, and He is using them to write this incredible story. A story that I cannot believe is mine. He is revealing to me the depth of His own love for His children and just a tiny glimpse of the hardship and sacrifice He endured to redeem us unto Himself. He is showing me that He can strengthen a woman, this woman, to withstand the most difficult and heart wrenching of tests and that He can carry her through those tests. He is showing me that I cannot be taken away from Him, no matter how hard the enemy tries and no matter how much I want to give up and give in. He is showing me that the love between a man and his bride can be the deepest, most profound example of Christ's love for the church and that that is exactly what it should be. He is showing me that the greatest thing we have on earth to advance the Kingdom of God is love. He is showing me that a mother's love for her children will cause her to willingly endure all kinds of hardships, impossibilities, disappointments, ridicule, loneliness, desperation and heartache and that she will keep coming back for more because her children are WORTH it. And He is showing me that HE feels the same way about US.
God has used this incredible thing called adoption to open my eyes, maybe just a little bit, to the startling reality of His love for us. His children. The children He adopted through the redemptive blood of Jesus Christ. The children He fought for and suffered for.
So when I say that my story is His story, I don't mean that I am like God. I'm not. Trust me. I mean that He is using the story He is writing in my life to reveal His character to me. And He is doing in the most radical of ways. This is not the path I would have chosen, but God has my attention. And I am ready to see what's next.
Maybe God is doing something awesome and redemptive in your life, too. Maybe it is NOT what you thought it would be. Hang in there, dear friend. He is working. He is writing a story in your life that is actually His story. Let him.
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
Romans 11:33
Love,
Baylor
Friday, November 14, 2014
Some Good News!
Well, it seems that things are starting to move again in Ethiopia! Eeeeek! We have been hearing about some referrals going out this week.
I don't know about you, but that just sets my heart a racing and swelling with hope.
Wil you pray today that our time is soon? Like really soon? Like before Christmas soon?
I think it can happen. And if it does, I promise to share my whole, great, big, crazy reaction with you.
I have learned so much about God and His goodness and His rock-solid faithfulness. I have learned that He wastes nothing and provides everything. He loves unconditionally and forgives always. He pursues us and waits for us to come home when we insist on going our own way. He never leaves or grows weary of our prayers. He suffers and grieves right alongside us. He comforts us through His Spirit, His Word and His children here on earth. He brings people into our lives to lift us up in our hour of need. He reminds us along the way that He is good. And He never forgets us. He asks big things of our lives, not to torment us to but to strengthen us. He puts the impossible in front of us so that He can be glorified. He allows pain and suffering so that He can heal and restore.
I have learned all of these things and so many more. And I know that I could not have learned these things if not for this incredibly deep valley we have been walking through. So while it has been (and continues to be) the most difficult thing God has ever asked of me, I know that God is here, that He is in it and that it will ultimately be far more than I could ever ask or imagine.
Love,
Baylor
I have learned all of these things and so many more. And I know that I could not have learned these things if not for this incredibly deep valley we have been walking through. So while it has been (and continues to be) the most difficult thing God has ever asked of me, I know that God is here, that He is in it and that it will ultimately be far more than I could ever ask or imagine.
Love,
Baylor
Monday, October 27, 2014
Trusting God with Your Impossible
Sometimes God asks big things of us. He asks us to let go of what we want, what we have always envisioned, what we think we deserve. He asks us if we really trust Him, if we really believe that He is sovereign AND good.
And when God does this, when He asks something big, it can feel like He is asking us to do the impossible. Asking us to do something that feels so completely beyond our capabilities that there is NO WAY it can be done. But that is where God shows up. For Him, our impossible is easy.
This is where I find myself. Day after day. Minute after minute.
For me, the impossible in this life is bringing our children home from Ethiopia. As the days pass, it feels like they get farther and farther away, it feels like we will always be waiting and never be parents. Month after month goes by with no news, and we are asked to wait. We are asked to trust. We are asked to believe.
We, like Peter, are asked to get out of the boat and walk across the sea. We are asked to do this impossible thing. To walk on water.
And we can only do it if we keep our eyes on Jesus. Much like Peter, I find myself often focusing on the storm raging around me. Focusing on everything else. On the ever-lengthening process, on the lack of information, on the timeline, on people telling us to try something else. On my sadness, on my fear, on my doubt, on my anger. I see all of these distractions, and they threaten to overtake me, to swallow me up.
And I know I have to look at Jesus.
But everything else is screaming for my attention. And Jesus is asking for it.
Everything else is raging around me, and He is quietly asking me to trust Him.
So I'm trying. I'm trying to look at Him. I'm trying ignore the crashing waves and the howling wind and the deafening thunder. And I am trying to look at the One who told me that I could walk on water, the One who told me that, through Him, I could do the impossible.
If I would just trust Him with it.
So I don't know what your impossible is. Waiting for a spouse? Struggling with a wayward child? Or, like me, are you waiting to become a parent and it just doesn't seem to be happening for you? Whatever it is, you can trust Him with it. There will be dark days, maybe lots of them Today was one for me. One that left me feeling alone and scared and angry and hurt. But even in that, He is there. He is our Jehovah Shammah, and He can be trusted with our impossible.
And when God does this, when He asks something big, it can feel like He is asking us to do the impossible. Asking us to do something that feels so completely beyond our capabilities that there is NO WAY it can be done. But that is where God shows up. For Him, our impossible is easy.
This is where I find myself. Day after day. Minute after minute.
For me, the impossible in this life is bringing our children home from Ethiopia. As the days pass, it feels like they get farther and farther away, it feels like we will always be waiting and never be parents. Month after month goes by with no news, and we are asked to wait. We are asked to trust. We are asked to believe.
We, like Peter, are asked to get out of the boat and walk across the sea. We are asked to do this impossible thing. To walk on water.
And we can only do it if we keep our eyes on Jesus. Much like Peter, I find myself often focusing on the storm raging around me. Focusing on everything else. On the ever-lengthening process, on the lack of information, on the timeline, on people telling us to try something else. On my sadness, on my fear, on my doubt, on my anger. I see all of these distractions, and they threaten to overtake me, to swallow me up.
And I know I have to look at Jesus.
But everything else is screaming for my attention. And Jesus is asking for it.
Everything else is raging around me, and He is quietly asking me to trust Him.
So I'm trying. I'm trying to look at Him. I'm trying ignore the crashing waves and the howling wind and the deafening thunder. And I am trying to look at the One who told me that I could walk on water, the One who told me that, through Him, I could do the impossible.
If I would just trust Him with it.
So I don't know what your impossible is. Waiting for a spouse? Struggling with a wayward child? Or, like me, are you waiting to become a parent and it just doesn't seem to be happening for you? Whatever it is, you can trust Him with it. There will be dark days, maybe lots of them Today was one for me. One that left me feeling alone and scared and angry and hurt. But even in that, He is there. He is our Jehovah Shammah, and He can be trusted with our impossible.
“Come,” he (Jesus) said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat,
walked on the water and came toward Jesus."
Matthew 14:29
Love,
Baylor
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Isaiah 61
I mentioned in my October update post that I am working on memorizing Isaiah 61. It is one of my favorite chapters in all of Scripture. I love the hope it brings, the redemption it promises and the goodness of God that it calls to mind. And on top of all of that, it is oh so beautifully written. The English teacher in me loves the imagery and the figurative language.
The
Year of the Lord’s Favor
The
Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to
the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for
the captives
and release from
darkness for the prisoners,
to
proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort
all who mourn,
and provide for those
who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the
oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and
a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of
despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his
splendor.
They
will rebuild the ancient ruins
and
restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been
devastated for generations.
Strangers
will shepherd your flocks;
foreigners
will work your fields and vineyards.
And
you will be called priests of the Lord,
you will be named ministers of our God.
You will
feed on the wealth of nations,
and in their riches you will boast.
Instead
of your shame
you will receive a
double portion,
and instead of disgrace
you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you
will inherit a double portion in your land,
and everlasting joy will
be yours.
“For I, the Lord, love justice;
I hate robbery and
wrongdoing.
In my faithfulness I will reward my people
and make an everlasting
covenant with them.
Their
descendants will be known among the nations
and their offspring among the peoples.
All who
see them will acknowledge
that they are a people
the Lord has blessed.”
I
delight greatly in the Lord;
my
soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
and arrayed me in a robe
of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
and as a bride adorns
herself with her jewels.
For
as the soil makes the sprout come up
and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the
Sovereign Lord will make righteousness
and praise spring up before all nations.
Isaiah 61
There is so much to love about this chapter. It is so full of hope, and that is something I need in my life right now. At church this past Sunday, one of our pastors was talking about what hope means in the Bible versus what it means in the world. In the world, hope is something we want to happen, something we wish for. In the Bible, hope is a promise. Our hope is that God is who He says He is. That is a promise based in the sound goodness of His character, and His character is love.
So, over the coming weeks and months, I am working on memorizing the entire chapter. While I have always loved Isaiah 61, I can't take credit for this idea. Over coffee with my cousin, Jennifer, she brought up that she had been praying this chapter over her family and mine, asking that this would be the year of the Lord's favor in our lives. I love that. And so I decided that it would be a good idea to commit the whole chapter to memory, to hide it in my heart so that on the days I am really struggling, I can remind myself right away of the HOPE God promises.
The promise that one day I will…
Receive a crown of beauty for my ashes,
The oil of joy for my mourning,
And a garment of praise for my spirit of despair.
Be called an oak of righteousness
And be a planting of the Lord for the display of HIS splendor.
I need these reminders as we walk the path the Lord has laid out for us. It is far too easy to walk in the company of doubt and fear, to keep the company of sorrow and shame.
And I want to let these things go, and instead be found in glory of the Lord and let my heart rest in the HOPE He brings.
My goal is to have it memorized by the end of the year. So if you see me, quiz me.
Love,
Baylor
So, over the coming weeks and months, I am working on memorizing the entire chapter. While I have always loved Isaiah 61, I can't take credit for this idea. Over coffee with my cousin, Jennifer, she brought up that she had been praying this chapter over her family and mine, asking that this would be the year of the Lord's favor in our lives. I love that. And so I decided that it would be a good idea to commit the whole chapter to memory, to hide it in my heart so that on the days I am really struggling, I can remind myself right away of the HOPE God promises.
The promise that one day I will…
Receive a crown of beauty for my ashes,
The oil of joy for my mourning,
And a garment of praise for my spirit of despair.
Be called an oak of righteousness
And be a planting of the Lord for the display of HIS splendor.
I need these reminders as we walk the path the Lord has laid out for us. It is far too easy to walk in the company of doubt and fear, to keep the company of sorrow and shame.
And I want to let these things go, and instead be found in glory of the Lord and let my heart rest in the HOPE He brings.
My goal is to have it memorized by the end of the year. So if you see me, quiz me.
Love,
Baylor
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Worth It
I have been a bit blog silent lately. Sorry. I can attribute that to three distinct things:
1. Being an 8th grade English teacher all day. Every day is craziness. I love my little chickens, but, dang, do they wear me out. Most days, I make the 25 minute drive home in complete SILENCE just because it sounds so sweet in my ringing ears. The preparing, the teaching, the questions from my darlings and the GRADING. Oh mercy, the grading. Why do they have to write in English class?? Can't math handle that?
2. As evidenced by the tiny Alka-Seltzer box in the photo above, I have been sick for almost ten days. Yup. Ten glorious days of coughing, sneezing and mouth breathing. Nice, right? Have I gone to the doctor? No. Of course not. Apparently, my stubbornness has soared to new heights. But I think I am almost over it, whatever it is.
3. September has been a tough month for me so far. I won't go into all the details, but this month has just been hard for me in a lot of different ways. And when things get really tough, I struggle to write exactly what I want to say, because, well, a lot of times what I want to say is not rainbows and butterflies and unicorns. It's more like storm clouds and bats and alligators. And, while I want to ALWAYS be honest and transparent with you, there are times when I can't really even get what is in my head into rational, readable words.
So anyway, September has been like that.
BUT that is not where I want to focus today.
Instead I want to focus on what God has us doing and how it is one of the few things for which I would stand firm for this long. You see, sometimes in this waiting process I get really tired. And when I get really tired, it is easy to want to give up and walk away. There are lots of moments when I just can't bear the thought of facing another day of waiting. Another day of wondering whether we will ever be parents. Another day of feeling so helpless. In these moments, I want to just give up and say, "That's it. I'm done. I tried. It didn't work. It's over."
And it is right there that I remember exactly who I am fighting for and exactly how much I love them. And in all of this, as hard as it is, I know without a shred of doubt that it is worth it. All of the tears, all of the hurt, all of the anxious nights and the days with empty arms are worth it.
Because one day I will sit across from my beautiful brown-eyed children and be able to tell them…
"I love you. I have loved you for such a long time. Long before I knew you, God placed you in my heart as my own. You are treasured and cherished and worth fighting for. And I would do every single moment of this journey again and again and again if it meant I could get to you. Because you are worth it. You are precious, and I would fight through anything to get to you. You are the reason I didn't give up, even when it was so hard. I knew I had to keep going, because, ultimately, my path would lead to you. And here you are. And you have given me this beautiful gift. You have made me a mom."
So in the tough moments, of which there have been many this month, I hang on to the reality that Adam and I are fighting for a life. We are fighting for our children to have the right to grow up in a family with two parents who love them unconditionally. We are fighting for their health and their safety. But most importantly, we are fighting for their hearts and their souls. And so I can't give up. I love them too much.
Maybe you are struggling, too. Maybe God has asked you to do something that feels impossible or seems endless. Allow me to speak some truth into your life as I speak it into my own. If God has called you here, to this hard place, don't give up. Keep fighting. Stand firmly rooted in the confidence that only comes from trusting the One who has written all of history. He knows what He is doing, especially when we don't. And please know that you are not alone. God calls people to hard things at different points in their lives, and if we can just trust Him enough, He will use those things to stretch us and grow us into looking more like Him and less like us.
1. Being an 8th grade English teacher all day. Every day is craziness. I love my little chickens, but, dang, do they wear me out. Most days, I make the 25 minute drive home in complete SILENCE just because it sounds so sweet in my ringing ears. The preparing, the teaching, the questions from my darlings and the GRADING. Oh mercy, the grading. Why do they have to write in English class?? Can't math handle that?
My current stack with a Diet Coke can for size reference.
The struggle is real.
Also, do you like the apple on my desk? Quite teachery, no?
2. As evidenced by the tiny Alka-Seltzer box in the photo above, I have been sick for almost ten days. Yup. Ten glorious days of coughing, sneezing and mouth breathing. Nice, right? Have I gone to the doctor? No. Of course not. Apparently, my stubbornness has soared to new heights. But I think I am almost over it, whatever it is.
3. September has been a tough month for me so far. I won't go into all the details, but this month has just been hard for me in a lot of different ways. And when things get really tough, I struggle to write exactly what I want to say, because, well, a lot of times what I want to say is not rainbows and butterflies and unicorns. It's more like storm clouds and bats and alligators. And, while I want to ALWAYS be honest and transparent with you, there are times when I can't really even get what is in my head into rational, readable words.
So anyway, September has been like that.
BUT that is not where I want to focus today.
Instead I want to focus on what God has us doing and how it is one of the few things for which I would stand firm for this long. You see, sometimes in this waiting process I get really tired. And when I get really tired, it is easy to want to give up and walk away. There are lots of moments when I just can't bear the thought of facing another day of waiting. Another day of wondering whether we will ever be parents. Another day of feeling so helpless. In these moments, I want to just give up and say, "That's it. I'm done. I tried. It didn't work. It's over."
And it is right there that I remember exactly who I am fighting for and exactly how much I love them. And in all of this, as hard as it is, I know without a shred of doubt that it is worth it. All of the tears, all of the hurt, all of the anxious nights and the days with empty arms are worth it.
Because one day I will sit across from my beautiful brown-eyed children and be able to tell them…
"I love you. I have loved you for such a long time. Long before I knew you, God placed you in my heart as my own. You are treasured and cherished and worth fighting for. And I would do every single moment of this journey again and again and again if it meant I could get to you. Because you are worth it. You are precious, and I would fight through anything to get to you. You are the reason I didn't give up, even when it was so hard. I knew I had to keep going, because, ultimately, my path would lead to you. And here you are. And you have given me this beautiful gift. You have made me a mom."
So in the tough moments, of which there have been many this month, I hang on to the reality that Adam and I are fighting for a life. We are fighting for our children to have the right to grow up in a family with two parents who love them unconditionally. We are fighting for their health and their safety. But most importantly, we are fighting for their hearts and their souls. And so I can't give up. I love them too much.
Maybe you are struggling, too. Maybe God has asked you to do something that feels impossible or seems endless. Allow me to speak some truth into your life as I speak it into my own. If God has called you here, to this hard place, don't give up. Keep fighting. Stand firmly rooted in the confidence that only comes from trusting the One who has written all of history. He knows what He is doing, especially when we don't. And please know that you are not alone. God calls people to hard things at different points in their lives, and if we can just trust Him enough, He will use those things to stretch us and grow us into looking more like Him and less like us.
Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because,
having stood the test,
that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.
James 1:12
Love,
Baylor
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Say What? : An American Baby
I usually get a little nervous when I sit down to write a Say What? post. But my stomach is doing some extra turning as I think through what I am writing today. It is something I have wanted to write about for a while, but I have shied away from it for a lot of different reasons. Primarily, I do not want to offend anyone. I don't really know what my readership is out there, but I do know that we all have varied life experiences that color and shape the lens through which we view the world and everyone/everything in it. So my life experiences very much color the way I see and feel about the world around me, especially the adoption part of my world. The last thing I want to do is be offensive or put someone off, but I do feel like what I am about to try to address needs to be said. And so I am going to try to get it out there, and I am asking for your grace as I do.
I have to start out by saying that, to me, adoption is one of the most beautiful things in the world. And just like anything that is truly beautiful, it is different. Adoption never looks the same. For anyone. Ever. People adopt for different reasons, from different places, at different times. And no one reason, place or time is better than another. So here is where we are starting:
"Why aren't you adopting an American baby?"
"If there are so many American babies that need families, why are you adopting from Ethiopia?"
"Don't you feel like you are turning your back on an American baby?"
"Did you just give up on an American baby?"
I have gotten each of these questions over the last 2+ years that we have been in the adoption process. Most of them from people who do not know me or Adam personally. One was actually at our adoption yard sale. I am always a little surprised when people ask me this type of question, and I always struggle with the best way to respond. Generally, it goes something like this:
"Oh. Well, we just really feel like God has called us to adopt from Ethiopia."
So deep. So profound. You're moved, right? Gah! I freeze up, because there is so much I want to say in that moment, so much about adoption and love that I want to convey, so much about how love isn't about borders and nationalities. So while it is true that YES we absolutely know that God has called us to adopt from Ethiopia, there is SO much more I want to say. And that is why I am writing today.
I need you to know that I LOVE American babies. I have lots friends with American babies. I am about to be an aunt to an American baby. And some of our very closest friends are in the process of a domestic adoption of an American baby. I hope to one day give birth to an American baby. Yay America! We are not anti-domestic adoption in any way. In fact, it is something we will very likely pursue in the future.
But what we know right now is that the Lord has called us to a place on the other side of the world. God has asked us, and so many beautiful families we know, to love regardless of borders and nationalities and ethnicities and races. We are not doing this because it is somehow more noble than a domestic adoption. It isn't. At all. We are not doing this because it is faster than a domestic adoption. It isn't. We are not doing this because it is cooler than a domestic adoption. It isn't. Not even a little bit.
We are doing this because it is what we know we are supposed to do.
Since I was a junior in high school, my family has worked with an orphanage down in Honduras. Beautiful people in a beautiful place. And while we were doing that work, we got similar questions:
"Why aren't you helping people in America?"
And I could never come up with a great answer. But my friend Ashley did. Here is what she said:
"I don't think God looks down at us and says, 'Those are my American children, and those are my Honduran children.' I think God looks down at us and says, 'Those are my children.'"
And I think that is so beautiful and completely spot on.
More than that. I think it applies to the adoption world, too.
When we consider adoption, I don't believe God says, "These are my American children, and those are my Ethiopian children."
I think He says, "Those are my children. Love them."
And that is what we are compelled to do. Every single one of us. We are compelled to love the fatherless and care for the abandoned. It is God's heart. You see it all over His Word. Take care of the fatherless. It doesn't matter where they are from. Nationality does not determine how deserving a child is of having a family. That should be a right, not a privilege. It is something every single child is entitled to.
Several months ago, I shared a video with you called, "Depraved Indifference." In it, a pastor is talking about the orphan crisis and what our responsibility is. Here it is. Take a minute to watch it.
We are all called to love and care for the fatherless, wherever they may be. If that means that you are a foster parent, then I applaud you. If you are domestically adopting, I am cheering you on. If you support orphan care ministries here in the U.S. and/or around the world, you are doing an awesome and necessary thing. If you are adopting internationally, I am running the race right beside you. All of these things are pieces of God's heart for the fatherless, and they are all important.
What I think most people mean when they ask me about not adopting an American baby, is "What made you choose Ethiopia?"
This a question I LOVE to answer. So please ask me. Ask me, and I will tell you how we did not start out even on the African continent, but in Asia. And then we found out that we were not old enough to adopt from that part of the world. How we felt called to Africa, Uganda specifically, and then some requirements changed. And the Congo was closed when we applied. And how, FINALLY, we found a country whose requirements we met and whose children we felt instantly drawn to.
Ethiopia.
I love to tell the story of how God brought us to Ethiopia. So ask me over and over again; I will always answer.
Baylor
I have to start out by saying that, to me, adoption is one of the most beautiful things in the world. And just like anything that is truly beautiful, it is different. Adoption never looks the same. For anyone. Ever. People adopt for different reasons, from different places, at different times. And no one reason, place or time is better than another. So here is where we are starting:
"Why aren't you adopting an American baby?"
"If there are so many American babies that need families, why are you adopting from Ethiopia?"
"Don't you feel like you are turning your back on an American baby?"
"Did you just give up on an American baby?"
I have gotten each of these questions over the last 2+ years that we have been in the adoption process. Most of them from people who do not know me or Adam personally. One was actually at our adoption yard sale. I am always a little surprised when people ask me this type of question, and I always struggle with the best way to respond. Generally, it goes something like this:
"Oh. Well, we just really feel like God has called us to adopt from Ethiopia."
So deep. So profound. You're moved, right? Gah! I freeze up, because there is so much I want to say in that moment, so much about adoption and love that I want to convey, so much about how love isn't about borders and nationalities. So while it is true that YES we absolutely know that God has called us to adopt from Ethiopia, there is SO much more I want to say. And that is why I am writing today.
I need you to know that I LOVE American babies. I have lots friends with American babies. I am about to be an aunt to an American baby. And some of our very closest friends are in the process of a domestic adoption of an American baby. I hope to one day give birth to an American baby. Yay America! We are not anti-domestic adoption in any way. In fact, it is something we will very likely pursue in the future.
But what we know right now is that the Lord has called us to a place on the other side of the world. God has asked us, and so many beautiful families we know, to love regardless of borders and nationalities and ethnicities and races. We are not doing this because it is somehow more noble than a domestic adoption. It isn't. At all. We are not doing this because it is faster than a domestic adoption. It isn't. We are not doing this because it is cooler than a domestic adoption. It isn't. Not even a little bit.
We are doing this because it is what we know we are supposed to do.
Since I was a junior in high school, my family has worked with an orphanage down in Honduras. Beautiful people in a beautiful place. And while we were doing that work, we got similar questions:
"Why aren't you helping people in America?"
And I could never come up with a great answer. But my friend Ashley did. Here is what she said:
"I don't think God looks down at us and says, 'Those are my American children, and those are my Honduran children.' I think God looks down at us and says, 'Those are my children.'"
And I think that is so beautiful and completely spot on.
More than that. I think it applies to the adoption world, too.
When we consider adoption, I don't believe God says, "These are my American children, and those are my Ethiopian children."
I think He says, "Those are my children. Love them."
And that is what we are compelled to do. Every single one of us. We are compelled to love the fatherless and care for the abandoned. It is God's heart. You see it all over His Word. Take care of the fatherless. It doesn't matter where they are from. Nationality does not determine how deserving a child is of having a family. That should be a right, not a privilege. It is something every single child is entitled to.
Several months ago, I shared a video with you called, "Depraved Indifference." In it, a pastor is talking about the orphan crisis and what our responsibility is. Here it is. Take a minute to watch it.
We are all called to love and care for the fatherless, wherever they may be. If that means that you are a foster parent, then I applaud you. If you are domestically adopting, I am cheering you on. If you support orphan care ministries here in the U.S. and/or around the world, you are doing an awesome and necessary thing. If you are adopting internationally, I am running the race right beside you. All of these things are pieces of God's heart for the fatherless, and they are all important.
What I think most people mean when they ask me about not adopting an American baby, is "What made you choose Ethiopia?"
This a question I LOVE to answer. So please ask me. Ask me, and I will tell you how we did not start out even on the African continent, but in Asia. And then we found out that we were not old enough to adopt from that part of the world. How we felt called to Africa, Uganda specifically, and then some requirements changed. And the Congo was closed when we applied. And how, FINALLY, we found a country whose requirements we met and whose children we felt instantly drawn to.
Ethiopia.
I love to tell the story of how God brought us to Ethiopia. So ask me over and over again; I will always answer.
"Father to the fatherless, defender of the widow is God in His holy dwelling. God
sets the lonely in families."
Psalm 68:5-6a
Love,Baylor
Sunday, March 30, 2014
USCIS Extension Approval
In the spirit of keeping the world updated with the goings on of our adoption, I am writing today to let you know that we have been cleared again by USCIS to bring our little one(s) into the United States. When you adopt internationally, you must file with the U.S. government in order to able to bring your little darling(s) onto American soil. Essentially, you send in your home study documents and a forms requesting approval. It is usually the last step before your paperwork gets sent overseas. Your clearance is good for about 18 months.
We received our first immigration clearance in September of 2012.
Eighteen months have passed. And now we have reapplied.
The great news is that we got our approval back super fast. We sent everything the second week of March and just got our approval in the mail this week. That is a QUICK turnaround. For that, I am beyond thankful. Yay!
The not as great news is that we have been on the waiting list long enough to need to file for an extension. Boo.
Adam and I were talking on the way home from church today about how much this wholetrial process has affected our lives. Both in good ways and bad. We are such different people than we were two years ago.
On the one hand, our life is SUCH a far cry from what either of us thought it would be. And that is really hard for us. We have been married for seven years and together for ten. That is a long time. And we are ready to grow our family (don't tell Daisy). By this point, I thought we would have two kids and be talking about number three. But we are childless. That is a hard word to assign to yourself. But the reality is, we are. And it is really hard to live in that reality, to know that this part of you and your life that you never doubted would come to be, suddenly isn't. And to then come to terms with the fact that it might not ever. Facing that truth does a number on your faith. I have found myself questioning things I have always believed with rock solid confidence.
Is God good?
Is God just?
Is God there?
Does God love me?
Those are tough questions. And especially tough when you have lived your whole life in the church and cannot remember a time when you did not know God. Still, I found myself wrestling with these questions, trying to get my brain and my heart around the fact that I believe wholeheartedly in a holy, just, good, loving, all powerful, upright God. And that this God sees how much I am hurting and allows it to continue. That will scramble your brain.
I am happy to be able to tell you that the answer to each one of those questions is a resounding, "Yes." I do want to be transparent here, and tell you that it does not always FEEL like the answer is, "Yes." But I know it is. I know that because I can see so many good things that have come from this.
I have learned that I must be wholly and completely reliant on God. (This is something I still struggle with way too frequently.)
I have learned that God's Word is life-sustaining.
I have learned that it is more important for my prayers to be honest than pretty.
I have learned that my struggles can point others to Christ if I stay focused on Him.
I have learned that God stays near to the broken hearted, of which I am most certainly one.
So there have been a LOT of parts about our current situation that have been harder than I can explain to you. But on the other hand, I believe that God gives us trials to sharpen us and prepare us, to strengthen us and grow our faith. And for that part of this life I am now living, I am grateful. I am also quite curious to see what is coming next if this current phase is just the preparation.
So for now, we are cleared to bring our babies home for another 18 months. Please, Jesus, please do not let us get to the place where we have to renew again.
Love,
Baylor
We received our first immigration clearance in September of 2012.
Eighteen months have passed. And now we have reapplied.
The great news is that we got our approval back super fast. We sent everything the second week of March and just got our approval in the mail this week. That is a QUICK turnaround. For that, I am beyond thankful. Yay!
The not as great news is that we have been on the waiting list long enough to need to file for an extension. Boo.
Adam and I were talking on the way home from church today about how much this whole
On the one hand, our life is SUCH a far cry from what either of us thought it would be. And that is really hard for us. We have been married for seven years and together for ten. That is a long time. And we are ready to grow our family (don't tell Daisy). By this point, I thought we would have two kids and be talking about number three. But we are childless. That is a hard word to assign to yourself. But the reality is, we are. And it is really hard to live in that reality, to know that this part of you and your life that you never doubted would come to be, suddenly isn't. And to then come to terms with the fact that it might not ever. Facing that truth does a number on your faith. I have found myself questioning things I have always believed with rock solid confidence.
Is God good?
Is God just?
Is God there?
Does God love me?
Those are tough questions. And especially tough when you have lived your whole life in the church and cannot remember a time when you did not know God. Still, I found myself wrestling with these questions, trying to get my brain and my heart around the fact that I believe wholeheartedly in a holy, just, good, loving, all powerful, upright God. And that this God sees how much I am hurting and allows it to continue. That will scramble your brain.
I am happy to be able to tell you that the answer to each one of those questions is a resounding, "Yes." I do want to be transparent here, and tell you that it does not always FEEL like the answer is, "Yes." But I know it is. I know that because I can see so many good things that have come from this.
I have learned that I must be wholly and completely reliant on God. (This is something I still struggle with way too frequently.)
I have learned that God's Word is life-sustaining.
I have learned that it is more important for my prayers to be honest than pretty.
I have learned that my struggles can point others to Christ if I stay focused on Him.
I have learned that God stays near to the broken hearted, of which I am most certainly one.
So there have been a LOT of parts about our current situation that have been harder than I can explain to you. But on the other hand, I believe that God gives us trials to sharpen us and prepare us, to strengthen us and grow our faith. And for that part of this life I am now living, I am grateful. I am also quite curious to see what is coming next if this current phase is just the preparation.
So for now, we are cleared to bring our babies home for another 18 months. Please, Jesus, please do not let us get to the place where we have to renew again.
Love,
Baylor
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Abraham
Whenever I am struggling with waiting for our children, I almost always have people point me to the story of Abraham and Sarah for encouragement. On the one hand, this is a great reminder of God's faithfulness. He took a couple who, by all appearances, was barren and used them to create a nation. It was a miracle, and so, in that way, it is encouraging to look at Abraham and Sarah and be reminded that God is capable of overcoming circumstances that, to us, seem insurmountable. On the other hand, Abraham was one hundred years old when he became a father. So you can see how that is a bit frightening for us, as well.
But there is something else that is interesting about Abraham. He did not do anything revolutionary. He just trusted God. He believed that God was able and that His plan was best.
This shockingly simple truth was brought to my attention by my husband, who discussed this very notion with a friend on New Year's Eve.
So often I feel like I am dropping the ball with this life God has handed us. I feel like I should be able to be happy in the midst of these trials, be able to accomplish great things for God as a result of what we are going through, do more "spiritual things" as we wait. And most of the time, honestly, I just can't. Most days, it is all I can do to hang on. We are at the point in this process where every single thing is out of our hands, and we just have to hold on to the truth that God is in control of this and that He knows what He is doing.
That is where Abraham comes in.
He and Sarah wanted a child so desperately, and I am all too familiar with that sentiment. He knew God was real and able to do all things, but there was this hole in his heart that longed to be filled with the role of parenthood. I imagine him and Sarah trying to comfort each other through years, decades, of waiting. And I can easily imagine some of the conversations they must have had. We have had them in our home, too. I can imagine Abraham's prayer life. Calling out to God, asking for this blessing that seemed to come so easily to others. I can relate.
And then God comes on the scene. He waits until Abraham is 100 and Sarah is 90. He tells Abraham that He will be the father of many nations, a manly richly blessed.
What does Abraham have to do?
But there is something else that is interesting about Abraham. He did not do anything revolutionary. He just trusted God. He believed that God was able and that His plan was best.
This shockingly simple truth was brought to my attention by my husband, who discussed this very notion with a friend on New Year's Eve.
So often I feel like I am dropping the ball with this life God has handed us. I feel like I should be able to be happy in the midst of these trials, be able to accomplish great things for God as a result of what we are going through, do more "spiritual things" as we wait. And most of the time, honestly, I just can't. Most days, it is all I can do to hang on. We are at the point in this process where every single thing is out of our hands, and we just have to hold on to the truth that God is in control of this and that He knows what He is doing.
That is where Abraham comes in.
He and Sarah wanted a child so desperately, and I am all too familiar with that sentiment. He knew God was real and able to do all things, but there was this hole in his heart that longed to be filled with the role of parenthood. I imagine him and Sarah trying to comfort each other through years, decades, of waiting. And I can easily imagine some of the conversations they must have had. We have had them in our home, too. I can imagine Abraham's prayer life. Calling out to God, asking for this blessing that seemed to come so easily to others. I can relate.
And then God comes on the scene. He waits until Abraham is 100 and Sarah is 90. He tells Abraham that He will be the father of many nations, a manly richly blessed.
What does Abraham have to do?
"I am God Almighty; walk before me faithfully and be blameless. Then I will make my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.”
Genesis 17:1-2
All Abraham has to do is walk before God faithfully and be blameless. Let me tell you what I think that means.
Walking before God faithfully. For me, this means trusting God. Even when it doesn't look like you should. When we look back throughout the course of Biblical history, it is easy to see that our God has a knack for not doing things the way we humans would do them. The clearest example of this is the Cross. It makes ZERO logical sense for God to send His own Son from heaven to earth in order to be a sacrifice for sinful man, especially when you consider the fact that God knew most men would reject that very sacrifice. The greatest picture of God's grace and mercy is also one of the most counter-intuitive choices we see in the Bible. But look at the outcome of that choice. We now have, for all eternity, the ability to be in direct communion and conversation with the Creator of the universe. For God, the outcome was worth the pain of His choice. And it was for Jesus, too. We see Him in the garden of Gethsemane, and He is asking His Father to "let this cup pass" from Him. He did not relish the idea of going to the cross, but He did so willingly because He knew what the outcome would be, what the end result would lead to. And for Him, it was worth it. He just had to stay faithful.
And that, I believe, is what God is asking of me, of us. He wants us to stay faithful to Him, to believe that He is good and in control even when it does not seem like it. And right now, I will tell you, it doesn't seem like it. I look around at our life and where we are in this process, and I want to shake my fists at the sky and scream, "What are you DOING?" When you sign on for the adoption process, everyone warns you about how hard it will be. And for a while, I felt like I was really prepared for the difficulties that accompanied our journey. But that has changed. This process has been so much harder than I ever imagined it could be. I did not know that my heart has the capacity to feel this much, that my soul has the ability to be this weary, that every part of me can long so desperately for something. I fully and openly admit that I was not prepared. And it is rocking my world and my faith. I have found myself questioning everything I have ever believed, asking myself, "Do I really believe that God is still in this?" My answer is yes. Some days it is a strong and powerful YES. Other days it is a shaking whisper of yes. But the answer does not change. I am trying to stay faithful.
The second part of Abraham's side of the covenant is to be blameless. This I cannot do. But I am cover by the grace and mercy of God through the cleansing blood of Jesus Christ. And by His glorious sacrifice alone, when God looks at me, He sees the purity of Jesus. It is nothing I have done or could ever do. He has paid it all. I have been bought back from sin through the blood of Christ. And so, in Him alone, I am blameless. Now, I don't mean I that I have stopped sinning. Clearly that is not the case. But my sins have been forgiven, and I am free.
And so, like Abraham, I am not doing anything extraordinary. At this point, I completely lack the ability to be extraordinary. I am just trying to cling to God and pray that He keeps me standing.
So if you are going through something that seems impossible to you, it is my hope that you know this Jesus who loves you so much. He loves you enough to have willingly given up His own life for yours. Let the depth of that truth permeate your heart, mind and soul. He is with you now, right in the midst of your impossible circumstance.
I would continue to ask for your prayers over our children, this process and over us. It seems like there is no end in sight. And we already love these children so much, more that I ever though possible. We just want them home. Please pray for their health and safety while we wait for them. Please pray for the governing bodies over international adoption. And please pray that we continue to seek God first while we wait and that our family would be united in 2014.
Love,
Baylor
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