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 Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Monday, September 19, 2016
Nowhere Else to Be
I have always been a fairly confident person, but motherhood has rocked me in all the ways that exist. Never before in my life have I felt so entirely unsure of the decisions I am making on a daily basis. And really, all I do is make decisions about the tiny people who live in my house. All.Day.Long. To be doing that in a deep pool of uncertainty has been tough on me.
But one decision that I know I need to make is to slow down and just BE THERE with my kids. I come from a family of achievers. We are bottom line, get it done people. You know the saying, “Those who say it can’t be done need to get out of the way of those who are doing it.”? That might be a family mantra. I love to accomplish and then move on. I thrive on change in that way. I love the idea of finishing something and starting something else.
And so motherhood has tripped me up here, too.
There is so much sameness. So much routine. SO MUCH REPETITION. So much.
And it’s good, right? Because that’s what kids need. They need routine and structure and sameness in order to feel safe and secure. Something I DESPERATELY want for both of my children.
But it pulls at me.
This again? That same question again? Home in time for naps again? Playing hide and seek with you hiding in the exact same spot again? Rocking and rocking and rocking and rocking. And then tomorrow....again.
I was having an anxious moment a few weeks ago while trying to get Asher girl down for her nap. It was taking roughly a million years, and I had this moment of overwhelming anxiety thinking, “She needs to fall asleep so I can go.” And then it hit me.
GO DO WHAT?
I have literally nowhere else to be.
My job is to be her mom. To give her all the love and time I have so that she feels safe and cared for.
When I have played eight thousand rounds of hide and seek with Bradley hiding behind his bedroom door every single time and he wants to go for round eight thousand and one... WHY NOT? Sure it’s exhausting to me, but he is loving it. Cracking up laughing every time I find him like it’s the best thing we have ever done together.
And so in this way. the Lord is using motherhood to humble me, to cause me to self sacrifice, to put someone else’s needs and wants above my own. And it is time well spent. So often I hear other moms say something along the lines of, “What is the point of it all?” or “I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything.” And I am the first to admit that I have had these same thoughts; I’m right there with you. The transition out of the classroom and into full time mommy land left me dealing with a serious crisis of self. So when I start to feel that way, I try to remind myself that what I am doing right now is providing my kids with a rock solid foundation from which they can build an extraordinary life. My kids need to know that I not just in their corner, but that I am going to stay there for as long as it takes. That kind of security builds self-confidence.
Now, I am not saying that I never make time for myself. You will find us at the YMCA every single day, with the kids in the child watch and me pretending I’m Shakira in Zumba or training for the Tour de France in spin class. That’s so important. I can’t be a good mom or a good wife or a good anything if I don’t take care of me, too.
But what I am realizing is that being a mom is seriously hard. It requires a lot of self-sacrifice that no one ever sees. And that can be a real blow to the old ego.
So, I am hoping to work on shifting my perspective to be able to see all that God is doing in the life of my family through this decision to stay home with my kids full time. I want my kids to see Jesus in me and know that He is the reason our family is the way it is. I want to point my kids to the Gospel every single day so that they can see how completely dependent on Christ we all must be. I want them to know the Lord from childhood, for there to not be a day they can remember without Jesus. It’s a tall order, and I know I will need the grace of Jesus Christ to come anywhere close to filling it.
With love,
Baylor
But one decision that I know I need to make is to slow down and just BE THERE with my kids. I come from a family of achievers. We are bottom line, get it done people. You know the saying, “Those who say it can’t be done need to get out of the way of those who are doing it.”? That might be a family mantra. I love to accomplish and then move on. I thrive on change in that way. I love the idea of finishing something and starting something else.
And so motherhood has tripped me up here, too.
There is so much sameness. So much routine. SO MUCH REPETITION. So much.
And it’s good, right? Because that’s what kids need. They need routine and structure and sameness in order to feel safe and secure. Something I DESPERATELY want for both of my children.
But it pulls at me.
This again? That same question again? Home in time for naps again? Playing hide and seek with you hiding in the exact same spot again? Rocking and rocking and rocking and rocking. And then tomorrow....again.
I was having an anxious moment a few weeks ago while trying to get Asher girl down for her nap. It was taking roughly a million years, and I had this moment of overwhelming anxiety thinking, “She needs to fall asleep so I can go.” And then it hit me.
GO DO WHAT?
I have literally nowhere else to be.
My job is to be her mom. To give her all the love and time I have so that she feels safe and cared for.
When I have played eight thousand rounds of hide and seek with Bradley hiding behind his bedroom door every single time and he wants to go for round eight thousand and one... WHY NOT? Sure it’s exhausting to me, but he is loving it. Cracking up laughing every time I find him like it’s the best thing we have ever done together.
And so in this way. the Lord is using motherhood to humble me, to cause me to self sacrifice, to put someone else’s needs and wants above my own. And it is time well spent. So often I hear other moms say something along the lines of, “What is the point of it all?” or “I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything.” And I am the first to admit that I have had these same thoughts; I’m right there with you. The transition out of the classroom and into full time mommy land left me dealing with a serious crisis of self. So when I start to feel that way, I try to remind myself that what I am doing right now is providing my kids with a rock solid foundation from which they can build an extraordinary life. My kids need to know that I not just in their corner, but that I am going to stay there for as long as it takes. That kind of security builds self-confidence.
Now, I am not saying that I never make time for myself. You will find us at the YMCA every single day, with the kids in the child watch and me pretending I’m Shakira in Zumba or training for the Tour de France in spin class. That’s so important. I can’t be a good mom or a good wife or a good anything if I don’t take care of me, too.
But what I am realizing is that being a mom is seriously hard. It requires a lot of self-sacrifice that no one ever sees. And that can be a real blow to the old ego.
So, I am hoping to work on shifting my perspective to be able to see all that God is doing in the life of my family through this decision to stay home with my kids full time. I want my kids to see Jesus in me and know that He is the reason our family is the way it is. I want to point my kids to the Gospel every single day so that they can see how completely dependent on Christ we all must be. I want them to know the Lord from childhood, for there to not be a day they can remember without Jesus. It’s a tall order, and I know I will need the grace of Jesus Christ to come anywhere close to filling it.
With love,
Baylor
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
The Real Struggle
When Bradley first came home, we flung ourselves headfirst into survival mode. Like any new parents. We were trying to figure this little boy out and learning how to practically be mom and dad while still being husband and wife and Adam and Baylor. Somewhere in the chaos, I let my daily time with the Lord drop off a cliff. It was embarrassingly easy to allow. There was SO MUCH filling every single waking and sleeping moment of the day and night. I kid you not. My dreams were about Bradley not sleeping. And somewhere in there, I stopped making God a priority.
It can be such an easy thing to do, I think primarily because the rest of the world screams for our attention, and God asks for it. Our children and homes and jobs demand our focus, and the Lord asks us to choose Him first.
Sadly, for me, I allowed this to go on for some time, and in recent weeks I have found myself REALLY feeling the consequence of that choice. Because let’s be honest... It was a choice. I chose to rely on myself instead of God Almighty. Not the wisest decision I’ve made.
So now I am in a place where I am trying to figure out how to mom with Jesus at the helm, how to meet Bradley’s (and soon Asher’s, oh.my.stars.) needs while still recognizing my own DEEP need for Christ each and every day.
Here’s where we are:
We are listening to a LOT of worship music in our house right now, especially during breakfast and lunch. This is really helping me keep my heart and mind focused on Christ. I have found that what my ears hear is what my mind thinks about.
I have also, at Adam’s suggestion, downloaded the First 5 app by Proverbs 31 Ministries. It’s a daily devotional that takes about five minutes. You set the alarm in the app for when you want to do it, and when it goes off, the app takes over your phone for five minutes, only allowing you to access your devotional. I am really enjoying it so far. The idea is that it’s the first five minutes of your day, but I have mine set to go off during nap time, as that is the most consistent thing in our day right now.
I am also looking into a She Reads Truth study, but I haven’t quite landed on one yet.
Hopefully, these things, in combination with my BSF study, will help me overcome the very real struggle of balancing time. Even now, there are so many things I want to do: spend time with Bradley, write, exercise, talk with Adam in the evenings, be with God each day, SLEEP. All of these things pull at me, and I MUST do a better job of organizing and prioritizing.
What about you? What are the things that vie for your attention? How do you carve out time for the Lord each and every day? It is the most worthwhile thing we can do.
With love,
Baylor
It can be such an easy thing to do, I think primarily because the rest of the world screams for our attention, and God asks for it. Our children and homes and jobs demand our focus, and the Lord asks us to choose Him first.
Sadly, for me, I allowed this to go on for some time, and in recent weeks I have found myself REALLY feeling the consequence of that choice. Because let’s be honest... It was a choice. I chose to rely on myself instead of God Almighty. Not the wisest decision I’ve made.
So now I am in a place where I am trying to figure out how to mom with Jesus at the helm, how to meet Bradley’s (and soon Asher’s, oh.my.stars.) needs while still recognizing my own DEEP need for Christ each and every day.
Here’s where we are:
We are listening to a LOT of worship music in our house right now, especially during breakfast and lunch. This is really helping me keep my heart and mind focused on Christ. I have found that what my ears hear is what my mind thinks about.
I have also, at Adam’s suggestion, downloaded the First 5 app by Proverbs 31 Ministries. It’s a daily devotional that takes about five minutes. You set the alarm in the app for when you want to do it, and when it goes off, the app takes over your phone for five minutes, only allowing you to access your devotional. I am really enjoying it so far. The idea is that it’s the first five minutes of your day, but I have mine set to go off during nap time, as that is the most consistent thing in our day right now.
I am also looking into a She Reads Truth study, but I haven’t quite landed on one yet.
Hopefully, these things, in combination with my BSF study, will help me overcome the very real struggle of balancing time. Even now, there are so many things I want to do: spend time with Bradley, write, exercise, talk with Adam in the evenings, be with God each day, SLEEP. All of these things pull at me, and I MUST do a better job of organizing and prioritizing.
What about you? What are the things that vie for your attention? How do you carve out time for the Lord each and every day? It is the most worthwhile thing we can do.
With love,
Baylor
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Whose Kingdom?
One thing I have really been enjoying this year is my first Bible Study Fellowship class. We are studying the book of Revelation, and it is INTENSE. I have loved having an in-depth study of such a complex book and have really enjoyed sharing with and learning from a diverse group of women.
Spending so much time in Revelation has been both awe-inspiring and sobering. The raw power of God on display in such a vivid way is incredible. His grace and mercy truly exceed our ability to describe them. And His wrath is holy and righteous. The scene that unfolds in the cosmos is huge and terrifying.
For me, it is easy to think of myself as an insignificant figure in God’s Kingdom. Yes, He loves me, but how much impact and/or influence do I really have? Does the course of my life have a role in the cosmic battle that will ultimately play out when God defeats Satan once and for all? For the sake of avoiding the feeling of responsibility, I like to tell myself no.
But that’s really not the case. Each of our lives does matter. We do play a role. And I was struck afresh with this reality at the end of the lecture portion of Bible study last night. Our teaching leader posed a question to us.
“Whose kingdom are you advancing?”
It’s a powerful question to consider because there are only two options. God’s or Satan’s. That’s it. Each day I have the opportunity to advance God’s kingdom and point others to Him... or not. It’s hard to think of my life in terms this absolute, but it is reality. All of creation is moving toward this day, this moment, when God’s power and glory will be on full display and there will be no doubt that He is absolutely Lord of all. Am I living in such a way as to point people to Him now? Are you? Or are we just keeping our heads down and trying not to stir the pot, lest we offend anyone?
If I’m honest, then I have to tell you that, more often than not, I fall into the second category. And I admit that much to my own shame.
Reading about and studying the judgment that I know is coming, I somehow manage to keep the truth quiet, when I should actually be sharing with everyone I know.
I had this huge epiphany last night that when I am not activity advancing God’s kingdom, I am actually advancing Satan’s. I do it by doing nothing. It’s so sly, so subtle. But that is what he does. He deceives with almost-truths, and I fall for it. By not saying anything, by not pointing people to Christ, I am allowing Satan to keep the blinders on people whom God loves.
Who on earth do I think I am? How can I keep silent?
And so I am praying that God gives me the courage to always look to Christ, to always give Him the glory and honor, to always speak His truth and love.
And I’ll be honest. There is a part of me that is not even sure what this will actually look like. I spend 95% of my time with an 18 month old. While I love him deeply, our conversations are not yet theologically profound. But I can do much better modeling Christ’s love for him on a daily basis. I can talk to him about Jesus because even though he can’t understand me now, I am praying that he will not be able to remember a time when he did not know Jesus. So why not start now?
What about you? What are the ways you can intentionally advance God’s kingdom in your life? In your circles of influence? Consider the question and come up with a real answer, not a theoretical one. And if you have an awesome idea, please share with me. I love a good, practical idea.
With deep love,
Baylor
Monday, January 11, 2016
It Matters
I have been a mom for less than six months. Not long. So I don’t claim to have any sage advice or wisdom to impart, but God plopped something in my lap today that I feel most compelled to share.
If you have small children and you are anything like me, then perhaps there have been moments when you question if what you are doing day in and day out really matters. Maybe you wonder if your kids are watching you and actually learning anything from you, or if all of the teaching and modeling you do all day is just pointless. Allow me to reassure you. What you are doing matters, and your kids are learning more from you than you realize.
This morning was tough. We had been riding the high of a truly beautiful weekend with my dad in town and then a gathering of friends and family for Bradley’s dedication. Bradley had a wonderful time playing with his grandfather and namesake. And then he was the center of attention at his dedication yesterday (at least until he fell asleep). We had a wonderful time. But as we sometimes experience after a big weekend, Bradley was a little agitated today.
It started out in the kitchen when we got home from the grocery store. I was unloading everything, which he doesn’t like because I am not able to be completely focused on him. So he began opening all of the drawers in our kitchen and pulling everything out. Dishes, tupperware, baking pans. All of it. And then he started throwing them across the kitchen and screaming. As he is doing this, I am trying to figure out how to install the child locks on our kitchen cabinets and drawers. Apparently, my lack of engineering degree is a major obstacle now that I have a toddler. Between the screaming and the epically failed lock assembly (not to mention my raging third trimester hormones), I am rapidly approaching the edge of the cliff.
Right around this time, my darling husband facetimes us from work just to say hi.
Well, wasn’t he in for a surprise!
Baby shrieking. Wife near tears.
As he almost always can, he talks me of the ledge and promises to figure out the child locks tonight while I am at Bible study.
During our conversation, I start B’s lunch. The sight and smell of food ignite a frenzy.
At this point, all I want is to get the food on the table so he can eat and I can put him down for his nap and then go cry in my closet.
I get him into his chair and get our plates on the table. I set his in front of him and say, “Here you go.”
My child {mere moments before screaming his head off} stops, looks at his plate, looks at me and holds out his hand for me to take and say the blessing before he will even touch his food. I am stopped in my tracks.
Mother of the year over here was ready for forgo the blessing today to get him to fill his mouth with food to stop the screaming.
We have been modeling holding hands to pray for a while now. We put his plate on the table, but out of his reach, and usually he gets so frustrated with food so close that it’s a battle to get through the prayer. But today, he stopped me with his plate right in front of him to bless our food. Now, I know he does not fully understand what we are doing when we pray before we eat, but he knows that there is something our family does at the table before we touch our food.
So I stopped and prayed for us and for our food. I thanked God for my son. And that is something I was so ready to miss in the midst of my frustration.
Today I was reminded that I am the primary example of God’s love and grace in the life of my son, that if I do not model Christ for him, then I am not loving him the best I can. I was reminded that toddlers are hard, and that I cannot parent one without Jesus. I was reminded that the small things I do in front of Bradley can have a huge impact on the man he ultimately becomes.
So maybe you are frustrated today, or maybe you will be tomorrow, and you will be tempted to skip those little things because they don’t seem to matter anyway. They matter. You matter. It matters.
With love,
Baylor
If you have small children and you are anything like me, then perhaps there have been moments when you question if what you are doing day in and day out really matters. Maybe you wonder if your kids are watching you and actually learning anything from you, or if all of the teaching and modeling you do all day is just pointless. Allow me to reassure you. What you are doing matters, and your kids are learning more from you than you realize.
This morning was tough. We had been riding the high of a truly beautiful weekend with my dad in town and then a gathering of friends and family for Bradley’s dedication. Bradley had a wonderful time playing with his grandfather and namesake. And then he was the center of attention at his dedication yesterday (at least until he fell asleep). We had a wonderful time. But as we sometimes experience after a big weekend, Bradley was a little agitated today.
It started out in the kitchen when we got home from the grocery store. I was unloading everything, which he doesn’t like because I am not able to be completely focused on him. So he began opening all of the drawers in our kitchen and pulling everything out. Dishes, tupperware, baking pans. All of it. And then he started throwing them across the kitchen and screaming. As he is doing this, I am trying to figure out how to install the child locks on our kitchen cabinets and drawers. Apparently, my lack of engineering degree is a major obstacle now that I have a toddler. Between the screaming and the epically failed lock assembly (not to mention my raging third trimester hormones), I am rapidly approaching the edge of the cliff.
Right around this time, my darling husband facetimes us from work just to say hi.
Well, wasn’t he in for a surprise!
Baby shrieking. Wife near tears.
As he almost always can, he talks me of the ledge and promises to figure out the child locks tonight while I am at Bible study.
During our conversation, I start B’s lunch. The sight and smell of food ignite a frenzy.
At this point, all I want is to get the food on the table so he can eat and I can put him down for his nap and then go cry in my closet.
I get him into his chair and get our plates on the table. I set his in front of him and say, “Here you go.”
My child {mere moments before screaming his head off} stops, looks at his plate, looks at me and holds out his hand for me to take and say the blessing before he will even touch his food. I am stopped in my tracks.
Mother of the year over here was ready for forgo the blessing today to get him to fill his mouth with food to stop the screaming.
We have been modeling holding hands to pray for a while now. We put his plate on the table, but out of his reach, and usually he gets so frustrated with food so close that it’s a battle to get through the prayer. But today, he stopped me with his plate right in front of him to bless our food. Now, I know he does not fully understand what we are doing when we pray before we eat, but he knows that there is something our family does at the table before we touch our food.
So I stopped and prayed for us and for our food. I thanked God for my son. And that is something I was so ready to miss in the midst of my frustration.
Today I was reminded that I am the primary example of God’s love and grace in the life of my son, that if I do not model Christ for him, then I am not loving him the best I can. I was reminded that toddlers are hard, and that I cannot parent one without Jesus. I was reminded that the small things I do in front of Bradley can have a huge impact on the man he ultimately becomes.
So maybe you are frustrated today, or maybe you will be tomorrow, and you will be tempted to skip those little things because they don’t seem to matter anyway. They matter. You matter. It matters.
With 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.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Prisoners of Hope
The time between seeing our sweet boy's face for the first time and our trip to meet him seems to be growing ever longer. It has been almost five months since we first laid eyes on our beautiful boy, and we are still uncertain as to when we will actually be able to travel to meet him. Adam and I have begun to grow {understandably} weary in the wait. I was venting some of my frustration to my mom on the phone earlier this week -- she is sharing in our sentiments these days -- and I just told her that I did not get it any more. Plain and simple.
In the adoption world, all those months and years leading up to your referral, you can hang on to the reality that you are not waiting for A child, but you are waiting for YOUR child. So you can remind yourself as the days pass by that God is at work preparing YOUR child to be brought into YOUR family. But now, here we are, five months removed from seeing the child God has gifted our family with, and we are still waiting. Waiting. Waiting...
After we got off the phone, my mom sent me a text with a Scripture reference in it.
Zechariah 9:12
I was not immediately familiar with it, but some quick Googling left me without too many words.
I need to do more research to figure out the exact context of this verse, but this one sentence was enough to basically halt me in my tracks. I so identify with the idea of being a prisoner of hope, being held captive by God and His infinite goodness. So much of this journey to our boy has been heartbreakingly awful. I have had more hard days than good ones, and I have shed far too many tears for me to ever count. I have hurt. I have begged God for favor. I have prayed for the safety and health of our boy. I have asked God for mercy. And in all of that, I have not received many of the answers I wanted. Our adoption has taken YEARS longer than we were told it would. The emotional and spiritual toll has been steep. It is true that there has been one brilliant and beautiful YES to our prayers, but we have gotten so many NOS or NOT NOWS.
And at many points along the way I have felt bereft of all hope. I have felt alone and forgotten. I have felt {in very real ways} that the Lord was far from me. But then I read Zechariah 9:12, and I am reminded WHO my fortress really is. You see, the problem with me wanting to abandon all hope is that I simply can't do it. I know who God is, and I know that He is good. So even though I have found myself, countless times, in places where I begin to doubt and lose hope, there is this foundation of truth beneath my feet that refuses to give in.
The Lord is my fortress, and I am a prisoner of hope. He will provide. He will, as Zechariah says, restore twice as much to us. I don't know what that twice as much will be, but I have a feeling there will be a LOT of joy surrounding it.
A few weeks ago, one of our pastors preached on hope and how the hope of Christ follower is different. Hope in our English language is something we wish for, something we desire to happen. Hope in God's economy is an assurance. It is not something we hope happens; it is something Jesus has already done. Beth Moore said it well: Hope is the knowledge that God is going to show up.
I like that. I love it, actually. Because I do, way down deep, know that God is going to show up. I know that He is going to do this incredible thing. I just have to continue to trust Him.
And maybe you are there, too. Maybe, like me, you are battle scarred and so tired of fighting. Can I tell you, from very lengthy personal experience, that God is still good in your trial? I pray that He is your fortress, too.
Love,
Baylor
In the adoption world, all those months and years leading up to your referral, you can hang on to the reality that you are not waiting for A child, but you are waiting for YOUR child. So you can remind yourself as the days pass by that God is at work preparing YOUR child to be brought into YOUR family. But now, here we are, five months removed from seeing the child God has gifted our family with, and we are still waiting. Waiting. Waiting...
After we got off the phone, my mom sent me a text with a Scripture reference in it.
Zechariah 9:12
I was not immediately familiar with it, but some quick Googling left me without too many words.
I need to do more research to figure out the exact context of this verse, but this one sentence was enough to basically halt me in my tracks. I so identify with the idea of being a prisoner of hope, being held captive by God and His infinite goodness. So much of this journey to our boy has been heartbreakingly awful. I have had more hard days than good ones, and I have shed far too many tears for me to ever count. I have hurt. I have begged God for favor. I have prayed for the safety and health of our boy. I have asked God for mercy. And in all of that, I have not received many of the answers I wanted. Our adoption has taken YEARS longer than we were told it would. The emotional and spiritual toll has been steep. It is true that there has been one brilliant and beautiful YES to our prayers, but we have gotten so many NOS or NOT NOWS.
And at many points along the way I have felt bereft of all hope. I have felt alone and forgotten. I have felt {in very real ways} that the Lord was far from me. But then I read Zechariah 9:12, and I am reminded WHO my fortress really is. You see, the problem with me wanting to abandon all hope is that I simply can't do it. I know who God is, and I know that He is good. So even though I have found myself, countless times, in places where I begin to doubt and lose hope, there is this foundation of truth beneath my feet that refuses to give in.
The Lord is my fortress, and I am a prisoner of hope. He will provide. He will, as Zechariah says, restore twice as much to us. I don't know what that twice as much will be, but I have a feeling there will be a LOT of joy surrounding it.
A few weeks ago, one of our pastors preached on hope and how the hope of Christ follower is different. Hope in our English language is something we wish for, something we desire to happen. Hope in God's economy is an assurance. It is not something we hope happens; it is something Jesus has already done. Beth Moore said it well: Hope is the knowledge that God is going to show up.
I like that. I love it, actually. Because I do, way down deep, know that God is going to show up. I know that He is going to do this incredible thing. I just have to continue to trust Him.
And maybe you are there, too. Maybe, like me, you are battle scarred and so tired of fighting. Can I tell you, from very lengthy personal experience, that God is still good in your trial? I pray that He is your fortress, too.
Love,
Baylor
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Emptiness
It is one of my life's dreams to travel to the Holy Land. There is something about walking where Jesus' feet fell that stirs my heart to the core. To sit on the Mount of Olives. To wade in the Sea of Galilee. To stand on the banks of the Jordan. I'm getting weepy just thinking about it.
But there is one thing I want to do most.
I want to visit the tomb where my Savior was laid to rest on a Friday over two thousand years ago. I want to stand outside of it and wonder what Mary must have been thinking when she went to perform the burial rights on Jesus on Sunday morning.
And then I want to walk inside because I know what I will find.
Emptiness.
Nothing.
I love that I serve a Savior who is not dead. I can't go worship and ask for favor at his tomb or grave marker. BECAUSE HE DOES NOT HAVE ONE. Jesus is the true and living God. And when He left His throne on high to come down here and walk with men, He did it to redeem us unto Himself.
He offered His life on the cross to bridge our path to God. And then He conquered death to afford us a place at His side for all eternity.
He did that for you and for me and for every other human who would ever walk the earth. So the all-important question is this: Do you know Him?
Do you know this great and glorious God who would humble Himself into the likeness of man, take on man's sins and die in our place--knowing all the while that most of us would never believe Him? Do you know Him? He is worth knowing, so much more so than any other man in history.
If you do know Him, I rejoice with you. If you don't, I pray that you would seek Him out. He is easily found, and He is already waiting.
But there is one thing I want to do most.
I want to visit the tomb where my Savior was laid to rest on a Friday over two thousand years ago. I want to stand outside of it and wonder what Mary must have been thinking when she went to perform the burial rights on Jesus on Sunday morning.
And then I want to walk inside because I know what I will find.
Emptiness.
Nothing.
I love that I serve a Savior who is not dead. I can't go worship and ask for favor at his tomb or grave marker. BECAUSE HE DOES NOT HAVE ONE. Jesus is the true and living God. And when He left His throne on high to come down here and walk with men, He did it to redeem us unto Himself.
He offered His life on the cross to bridge our path to God. And then He conquered death to afford us a place at His side for all eternity.
He did that for you and for me and for every other human who would ever walk the earth. So the all-important question is this: Do you know Him?
Do you know this great and glorious God who would humble Himself into the likeness of man, take on man's sins and die in our place--knowing all the while that most of us would never believe Him? Do you know Him? He is worth knowing, so much more so than any other man in history.
If you do know Him, I rejoice with you. If you don't, I pray that you would seek Him out. He is easily found, and He is already waiting.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him."
Mark 16:6
Love,
Baylor
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
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Referral Reflections
So when I posted about our referral call in November, I decided to let the pictures do most of the talking. I had to. For the first time in the history of ever, there were NO words in my brain. I could not think of a single thing to articulate to you what that moment was like. But now we are about six weeks removed from that glorious night, and I am ready to give my best efforts to explain to you what it is like to get a phone call telling you that you are a mom.
We were at Adam's mom's house for Thanksgiving. And, to be totally honest, it had been a difficult week. Adam's uncle had passed away unexpectedly on Thanksgiving day, shocking us all. We were gathered around the TV in JoAnne and Mike's living room watching the Iron Bowl and hoping that a Tiger victory would help cheer us up.
At half time, literally as the Tigers were running off the field, my phone rang. A 205 number that I did not recognize.
Me: Hello?
Voice: Hi, Baylor.
It was Catherine. I knew it right away. Phone in my right hand, my left hand shoots out and grabs Adam's arm. Eyes wide. Heart racing. This is it.
Me: Hi, Catherine.
Catherine: How are you guys?
Me: Can you please tell me why you are calling me right now?
Catherine: Well, I am going to make your Thanksgiving a little happier.
I am off the couch in a flash and sprinting into the kitchen. I can't believe it. Years of pain and heartache and love rooting so far down deep in my heart. And here we are. She is going to say it. She is going to say that we have been matched.
Me: Shut up! Shut up Shut up! OK, no. Don't. Tell me.
She asks me if Adam is there and we get her on speakerphone. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I am clutching Adam, just waiting for my legs to give out.
And she tells us that there is a boy. A boy.
We collapse into each other and there is nothing but the arms of my husband holding me up, as he has been for years. Catherine, bless her, gives us all the time we need. And so we cry. We cry the tears that have been waiting for YEARS to fall. Tears of disbelief. Tears of shock. But mostly, tears of JOY.
She goes on to tell us more about him, and we continue to be amazed by God's hand. This is the information I can't share, but suffice it to say that God outdid Himself in the life of our little man. Wave upon wave of joy crashes over us, and in those moments, there is no one else in the world.
Just us. Just the THREE of us.
And then I ask the question I have been waiting YEARS to ask.
"Can we see him?"
And finally, the answer is "Yes."
We get my computer out and log in to my email. Catherine sends us our referral email. OUR REFERRAL EMAIL! But it doesn't go through! I cannot even handle it. If you know me personally, then you know it takes a whole LOT to ruffle me. But let me tell you something; I am losing it at this point. She tries again. And it pops into my inbox.
"Referral"
Adam is at the computer. My hands are shaking way too much to type or click on anything. The email opens, and we see him in a thumbnail.
I am not breathing.
He opens it.
There he is. My boy.
And my heart shatters into a million pieces, so wholly and completely overwhelmed with pure and unadulterated love for the face in this photo. He is mine. Always has been.
The best way I can think of to explain what that moment was like is to tell you that suddenly it all made sense. All the tears, all the paperwork, all the heartache, all the days and nights with aching arms and a heavy heart. All the ups and downs, the gut-wrenching sobs and desperate prayers. All of those things, in that moment, finally made sense. And I knew that I would do it a thousand times if it meant I could have him.
For almost three years, God had been growing and cultivating a deep love in my heart for the child He would bring us. And I always wondered how I would react when I saw my child for the first time. Now I know. I love you, son. I love you with a deep and unconditional love that has crossed oceans and continents. And I'm coming.
We were at Adam's mom's house for Thanksgiving. And, to be totally honest, it had been a difficult week. Adam's uncle had passed away unexpectedly on Thanksgiving day, shocking us all. We were gathered around the TV in JoAnne and Mike's living room watching the Iron Bowl and hoping that a Tiger victory would help cheer us up.
At half time, literally as the Tigers were running off the field, my phone rang. A 205 number that I did not recognize.
Me: Hello?
Voice: Hi, Baylor.
It was Catherine. I knew it right away. Phone in my right hand, my left hand shoots out and grabs Adam's arm. Eyes wide. Heart racing. This is it.
Me: Hi, Catherine.
Catherine: How are you guys?
Me: Can you please tell me why you are calling me right now?
Catherine: Well, I am going to make your Thanksgiving a little happier.
I am off the couch in a flash and sprinting into the kitchen. I can't believe it. Years of pain and heartache and love rooting so far down deep in my heart. And here we are. She is going to say it. She is going to say that we have been matched.
Me: Shut up! Shut up Shut up! OK, no. Don't. Tell me.
She asks me if Adam is there and we get her on speakerphone. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I am clutching Adam, just waiting for my legs to give out.
And she tells us that there is a boy. A boy.
We collapse into each other and there is nothing but the arms of my husband holding me up, as he has been for years. Catherine, bless her, gives us all the time we need. And so we cry. We cry the tears that have been waiting for YEARS to fall. Tears of disbelief. Tears of shock. But mostly, tears of JOY.
She goes on to tell us more about him, and we continue to be amazed by God's hand. This is the information I can't share, but suffice it to say that God outdid Himself in the life of our little man. Wave upon wave of joy crashes over us, and in those moments, there is no one else in the world.
Just us. Just the THREE of us.
And then I ask the question I have been waiting YEARS to ask.
"Can we see him?"
And finally, the answer is "Yes."
We get my computer out and log in to my email. Catherine sends us our referral email. OUR REFERRAL EMAIL! But it doesn't go through! I cannot even handle it. If you know me personally, then you know it takes a whole LOT to ruffle me. But let me tell you something; I am losing it at this point. She tries again. And it pops into my inbox.
"Referral"
Adam is at the computer. My hands are shaking way too much to type or click on anything. The email opens, and we see him in a thumbnail.
I am not breathing.
He opens it.
There he is. My boy.
And my heart shatters into a million pieces, so wholly and completely overwhelmed with pure and unadulterated love for the face in this photo. He is mine. Always has been.
The best way I can think of to explain what that moment was like is to tell you that suddenly it all made sense. All the tears, all the paperwork, all the heartache, all the days and nights with aching arms and a heavy heart. All the ups and downs, the gut-wrenching sobs and desperate prayers. All of those things, in that moment, finally made sense. And I knew that I would do it a thousand times if it meant I could have him.
For almost three years, God had been growing and cultivating a deep love in my heart for the child He would bring us. And I always wondered how I would react when I saw my child for the first time. Now I know. I love you, son. I love you with a deep and unconditional love that has crossed oceans and continents. And I'm coming.
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
Thursday, December 25, 2014
All You Can See
I have spent so much time over the last few days reflecting on how Christmas this year is so different from last year. God has done so much. Last year, we were at the beginning of a six month stretch of no movement. Rumors were flying that Ethiopia was going to close to international adoption within days. Motherhood seemed to be a long, long way off. My heart was heavy. And I could not see how God was getting any glory from the circumstance in which I found myself.
Fast forward to this year. God has brought us our son. He has written this incredibly beautiful story that I still cannot believe I am a part of. God has not met a single expectation of mine. He has surpassed them. He has brought us this little life to love for all of our days, to raise and minister to, to teach about Jesus.
On Christmas Eve last year, I found myself sitting in church with my husband and my family fighting back sobs and then turning away when I couldn't, trying so hard to maintain a spirit of thankfulness and trust in God in the midst of the single most difficult thing I have ever endured. I was crying out to God to give us a miracle. This plea was followed by months of silence. Months that tested and refined my faith in God. Months that showed me God is exactly who He says He is.
Last night, I was sitting in the same church, in almost exactly the same seat in tears because of all God has done. And the pastor said something that hit might right where I am. In talking about what God can and will do in our lives, he said:
I love that. It's so true. All I can imagine God doing is what I know is possible. God does not exist within that framework. He is beyond it. And I am so thankful to serve this great God.
This is never more true than on Christmas Day. The day God did something so far beyond our imagination. He willingly sent His only Son to us. To be born, to live and to die in our place. To pay the price our sin deserves so that we could be redeemed unto Him. So today, I have to ask you the most important question there is.
Do you know Jesus?
Not just who He is or what He did. But do you know Him? He knows you and loves you. He chose to give His life for you. There is no greater love. And it all started on this day over 2,000 years ago. With a baby's cry.
I hope and pray that you do. That you are able to bask in the joy of His love and rejoice in the beauty of His sacrifice.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Baylor
Fast forward to this year. God has brought us our son. He has written this incredibly beautiful story that I still cannot believe I am a part of. God has not met a single expectation of mine. He has surpassed them. He has brought us this little life to love for all of our days, to raise and minister to, to teach about Jesus.
On Christmas Eve last year, I found myself sitting in church with my husband and my family fighting back sobs and then turning away when I couldn't, trying so hard to maintain a spirit of thankfulness and trust in God in the midst of the single most difficult thing I have ever endured. I was crying out to God to give us a miracle. This plea was followed by months of silence. Months that tested and refined my faith in God. Months that showed me God is exactly who He says He is.
Last night, I was sitting in the same church, in almost exactly the same seat in tears because of all God has done. And the pastor said something that hit might right where I am. In talking about what God can and will do in our lives, he said:
"All you can imagine is all you can see."
I love that. It's so true. All I can imagine God doing is what I know is possible. God does not exist within that framework. He is beyond it. And I am so thankful to serve this great God.
This is never more true than on Christmas Day. The day God did something so far beyond our imagination. He willingly sent His only Son to us. To be born, to live and to die in our place. To pay the price our sin deserves so that we could be redeemed unto Him. So today, I have to ask you the most important question there is.
Do you know Jesus?
Not just who He is or what He did. But do you know Him? He knows you and loves you. He chose to give His life for you. There is no greater love. And it all started on this day over 2,000 years ago. With a baby's cry.
I hope and pray that you do. That you are able to bask in the joy of His love and rejoice in the beauty of His sacrifice.
Merry Christmas!
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
Saturday, September 27, 2014
What Is This Place?
If you have been with me for a while, you know that SO much of this adoption journey has been fraught with pain, tears and despair. There have been countless hard days and so many nights filled with tears. And I even told you in a post the other week that the month of September had gotten off to a particularly difficult start.
But for the last week, I have felt something different.
How do I explain this in a way that makes sense?
I have felt…
Good.
It's weird. Mainly because there are a LOT of reasons to feel sad. But I don't.
I find myself walking around, in the midst of a whole heap of tough stuff, feeling happy.
So I have to ask myself:
What is this place? Where am I? How did I get here? Do I have to leave? Like…ever?
And I think I know the answers.
This place is God's peace with where He has us. Quite honestly, it is a place I have been searching for for some time now. I have been longing for it, craving it. But it has eluded me. Not because God was keeping it from me. NOT AT ALL.
I was refusing contentment. I have been running SO hard after something I want SO much, only comparing myself to the people around me, thinking that I must have been somehow missing the point because everyone else has what I want. And in all of that racing and comparing, I missed God. I missed being grateful for where He has me, for all of this time with my husband, time to take care of student loans before little Ethiopians arrive, time to love on my precious puppy, time to invest in my friends and my students, time to have time.
And time to learn how to humbly surrender my life to Christ in whatever way He asks.
So much of this journey has been learning how to die to myself in a VERY real way. The idea of dying to oneself is something we hear in church all the time. But what does it even really mean? And what in the world does it look like?
For me, it has looked like learning how to set my wants, my desires aside in favor of what God has for me. And please believe me when I say that it has not been easy. Rather, it has been one of the most difficult things I have ever done. By NO means am I perfect at it. I am actually sure that there are a lot of times when my Heavenly Father must shake His head and smile at my refusal to let go.
But now He has brought me to this place where I feel like I have been able to let go, to die to myself and not have it hurt so much. At least a little. You see, dying to yourself can be an INCREDIBLY painful thing. It involves turning away from what your very nature wants and trusting God instead. I have struggled with this. Struggled on a deep, deep level. Way down in the depths of my soul. I have fought against it, and to God's everlasting credit and glory, He did not just give up on me and walk away. He stuck it out with me, and together, we have arrived at this new place. I am finding myself feeling God's peace and walking around with this sense of "I know He will do what is right and what is best."
I hope I stay here in this place. Surrounded and filled by God's peace. I know I will struggle again. It's my nature. But now I know that this place is real. I know, I know, I know, I know that God's peace can break through the toughest and most formidable of exteriors. I know that His persistent and unwavering love can crash though the walls we build around ourselves. I have always said that these things are true, but now I have seen them become reality in my own life and my own heart. I have felt the effects of God's pursuit. I trust Him with whatever comes my way. And I hope in what His plans are for my future.
I hope and pray that you find your way here, too. That you can find it in your heart to trust God with the very life He gave you. If you can, if we can, then God will use us to do great and awesome things. I know how hard it is. I do. I'm right there with you, my friend. And so is He. Lean on Him. There is no shame in that. We were built to need Him. And we can always trust Him.
Love,
Baylor
But for the last week, I have felt something different.
How do I explain this in a way that makes sense?
I have felt…
Good.
It's weird. Mainly because there are a LOT of reasons to feel sad. But I don't.
I find myself walking around, in the midst of a whole heap of tough stuff, feeling happy.
So I have to ask myself:
What is this place? Where am I? How did I get here? Do I have to leave? Like…ever?
And I think I know the answers.
This place is God's peace with where He has us. Quite honestly, it is a place I have been searching for for some time now. I have been longing for it, craving it. But it has eluded me. Not because God was keeping it from me. NOT AT ALL.
I was refusing contentment. I have been running SO hard after something I want SO much, only comparing myself to the people around me, thinking that I must have been somehow missing the point because everyone else has what I want. And in all of that racing and comparing, I missed God. I missed being grateful for where He has me, for all of this time with my husband, time to take care of student loans before little Ethiopians arrive, time to love on my precious puppy, time to invest in my friends and my students, time to have time.
And time to learn how to humbly surrender my life to Christ in whatever way He asks.
So much of this journey has been learning how to die to myself in a VERY real way. The idea of dying to oneself is something we hear in church all the time. But what does it even really mean? And what in the world does it look like?
For me, it has looked like learning how to set my wants, my desires aside in favor of what God has for me. And please believe me when I say that it has not been easy. Rather, it has been one of the most difficult things I have ever done. By NO means am I perfect at it. I am actually sure that there are a lot of times when my Heavenly Father must shake His head and smile at my refusal to let go.
But now He has brought me to this place where I feel like I have been able to let go, to die to myself and not have it hurt so much. At least a little. You see, dying to yourself can be an INCREDIBLY painful thing. It involves turning away from what your very nature wants and trusting God instead. I have struggled with this. Struggled on a deep, deep level. Way down in the depths of my soul. I have fought against it, and to God's everlasting credit and glory, He did not just give up on me and walk away. He stuck it out with me, and together, we have arrived at this new place. I am finding myself feeling God's peace and walking around with this sense of "I know He will do what is right and what is best."
I hope I stay here in this place. Surrounded and filled by God's peace. I know I will struggle again. It's my nature. But now I know that this place is real. I know, I know, I know, I know that God's peace can break through the toughest and most formidable of exteriors. I know that His persistent and unwavering love can crash though the walls we build around ourselves. I have always said that these things are true, but now I have seen them become reality in my own life and my own heart. I have felt the effects of God's pursuit. I trust Him with whatever comes my way. And I hope in what His plans are for my future.
I hope and pray that you find your way here, too. That you can find it in your heart to trust God with the very life He gave you. If you can, if we can, then God will use us to do great and awesome things. I know how hard it is. I do. I'm right there with you, my friend. And so is He. Lean on Him. There is no shame in that. We were built to need Him. And we can always trust Him.
Love,
Baylor
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Rwanda in Photos: Day 2
Day two in Rwanda was a tough one. We started out at the Nyamata Genocide Memorial. I am working on a separate post about that, but it is slow going, as it is next to impossible to explain what we saw there.
The Nyamata Memorial is a church. In 1994, an estimated 10, 000 Rwandans came here seeking shelter and protection from the Interhamwe. They believed that they would be safe here, because no one believed that people would commit murder inside a church. Sadly, there were almost no survivors.
Nyamata is a peaceful and beautiful place. It has stood, undisturbed, since the horrifying acts of 1994. Once inside the outer gates, you are to keep as quiet as possible, and inside the actual church, there is not talking at all.
Photography is not permitted within the church, itself.
Behind the church, there is, what our guide called, a crypt. It lies beneath the white tiled memorials you see in this photograph.
We went inside, and what I saw I will probably never be able to describe to you. Shelves and shelves, all the way to the ceiling, lined with human remains. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen.
Still, there is now a sense of peace that fills the courtyard.
And it is beautiful place.
The back of the church, where you can still see marks in the bricks from the rebel soldiers trying to get inside.
Stained glass windows that have been broken out.
This morning was one of the hardest of my life. The massive loss of life, the terror these innocent people must have felt. To think that human beings would do this to one another. It's something I hope I never understand.
The beauty of this day came in the restoration we saw first-hand after we left the memorial. We traveled to Bugasera, a community where Africa New Life has a Christian school and community outreach. Seeing these beautiful children in school, learning how to read and write and hearing of the love of Christ right on the heels of our visit to Nyamata was completely overwhelming. I was able to see, with my own eyes, God's restoration at work. He is using the faithful workers of Africa New Life to raise up a generation of Rwandans who live and preach love, not hatred and violence.
It was an honor to meet these sweet children.
To talk with them.
To watch them play.
To try to play with them.
(I am not very good at hopscotch/rock soccer!)
To watch them be silly and just be kids.
To serve them lunch.
And to help clean up when they were finished.
One of my favorite (and most nerve-wracking) moments is right here.
I was given the opportunity to share my testimony with these precious children. Given the chance to tell them of Christ's redeeming work in my own life. It had been too long since I had shared my testimony in front of a group (and it was my first time to do so through a translator), and it was so, so, so good.
And this right here.
I have no idea why we are laughing. Probably something I mistakenly said.
But I love this moment. This man and I, we do not know each other. But we both know Jesus, and he helped me share my story with a room full of sweet faces.
And then as we were leaving, they called the entire school together to pray.
And this young man, Isa, got up and prayed in front of the whole school.
I had been talking to him earlier and did not realize that he was such a strong young man and leader.
Hearing him pray in Kinyarwandan was absolutely beautiful.
And as we were leaving, God caught my eye with this little reminder.
Love,
Baylor
P.S. If you missed the first photo entry, just click HERE to get to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
