In that instant, the Holy Spirit crushed my heart at the display of my daughters’ Christ-likeness. My resistance crumbled. “Okay, they can stay,” I conceded. Four years later and I am proud to call these two young men my sons. Full Article
It is hard. I’ll not sugar-coat that truth. We’ve been stolen from, lied to, threatened even. We’ve shed tears, grieved, been frustrated. It’s no fairy tale. Happily ever after seems like a pipe dream on occasion.
My oldest son, adopted at 16 from Memphis and deeply immersed in affliction to this day, testifies to this fact. In fostering and adopting, you immerse yourself into the misery of the human condition.
You reach deep into the cesspool of human sin and select one, or many, to rescue from their plight…just like Christ did for you, if you are a believer.
Adoption has destroyed me. More appropriately, the Lord destroyed me, the old me, and made me a new creation in Christ. He did the same with my family, rearranging the entire order of our existence. Adoption is but a natural out-pouring of that newness.