Grace to you and peace from God
our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen
One
of my bishops and his wife served as foster parents for children to be adopted,
specifically for infants. They worked
with Lutheran Community Services which at that time did a lot of work with
adoptions.
Their
role was to care for the child during the period of transition between birth
and placement in the adoptive parent’s home.
As
they reflected on this ministry of theirs, there were two extremely moving
moments.
The
first would occur in the hospital.
A
mother, the birth mom, one who so deeply loved her child that she chose to
carry it till birth as opposed to having an abortion, would for the sake of the
child, give that child up and hand her baby over to Mark and Carol.
Often
these birth mothers were young, barely old enough to have a child, and hardly
old enough to care for the child.
Each
one had their own reasons for offering their child for adoption.
But
one thing was true of all of them, and that was a love for the child so deep
that for the child’s sake they would make that gift.
After
a time of visiting there would come the moment when it was time.
Mark
related one such experience when at the entry to the hospital, the young mother
handed the baby over to them, got in her parent’s car, and as they drove away,
with tears in her eyes, she simply waved goodbye.
Mark
and Carol would then take the baby home with them, care for the child as though
it were their own, until the time came to deliver it to the adoptive parents.
This
would occur a few days or weeks later, and for them brought some mixed emotions as well.
Now
they had to give up the child.
But
they had the great joy of witnessing this gift to the adoptive mom and dad.
Often
the adoptive parents had been yearning and praying for a child for years and
now was the moment that those prayers were answered.
When
you’ve had the privilege of giving birth to a child, it’s hard to imagine a joy
greater than that of welcoming your child into the world.
And
yet, I believe, that for the adoptive parents the joy may be even more profound
than for the birthparents, for the
adoptive parents are often in a position of wondering, even grieving, their own
inability to have a child—and then, as a
pure gift, they receive a child.
Adoption.
A
giving and receiving.
Letting
go, and embracing.
A
birthparent’s sacrifice.
An
adoptive parents’ great joy.
There’s
one other experience we should take note of regarding adoption. Because adoption so often takes place
following birth we often don’t think about it, but we should.
That
is the experience of the child.
There
is a bonding between a child and their parents, a bonding that begins in the
womb, is nurtured at the breast, and only gets greater with each passing
day.
For
an older child that is adopted, there can be an incredible grief associated
with this process.
And
even for an infant, there will come a day when they realize that their birth
parents gave them up, and that knowledge will bring with it a quagmire of
emotions.
Yet
in contrast to that is the awareness that their adoptive parents had opened
their hearts to them in a most profound way.
What
is the point of all this, and why is adoption one of the images that is used to
describe our experience of faith?
Good
question.
I
have to tell you that when I speak to people about the meaning of baptism, the
image of adoption has not been one of my favorite images.
My
problem is that I find myself debating who the true birth parent is, and who the
adoptive parent is. When used with
respect to baptism, the understanding is that God adopts us as his child.
And
yet part of me wants to insist, that because God is our creator, God is our
true birthparent as well.
In
this way, I’d say that our earthly parents are actually foster parents,
entrusted with the care of a child that is not their own.
Well,
that’s one bias of mine.
But
when the Bible speaks of our adoption as children of God, it bears witness to
another reality.
There
is a profound change in our identity, our relationships, and our life.
There
is a letting go, and a latching on.
There
is a grief experienced regarding the old, and a joy experienced regarding the
new.
It’s
an image of death and resurrection.
We
have two natures.
We
are both children of this world, and through our baptism into Christ, children
of God.
When
Paul speaks about our status as children of the world, he uses the image of a
slave.
Our
lives are defined by our actions, we are what we do, and in that each of us is
by nature sinful, we are sinners. Slaves
under the law. Defined by our own
disobedience.
I
participated in a parenting workshop once, put on by Lutheran Community
Services, in which the presenters made the point that the primary work of an
adolescent child was differentiation.
What
they meant by that was that a child would, by nature, differentiate themselves
from their parent, often through their disobedience, and doing things their own
way.
And
perhaps that is true of our relationship with God, as well. We sin in part, to differentiate ourselves
from God and establish our own identity.
But
then something happens as we live out our baptisms in daily life.
We
are no longer defined by our disobedience, but by our relationship with God as
our Father and Jesus as our Brother.
We
are children, adopted by God through our baptism into Christ Jesus, and defined
no longer by our own actions, but by the love of God, and Christ’s own
sacrifice.
But
this new reality doesn’t just happen.
It
comes with a fight.
Our
old self must die in order for our new self to be born.
We
have a lot invested in our old self, so we generally do not jump at the
opportunity for the new life that is ours in Christ Jesus.
Even
if we acknowledge that our old self is defined by our sins, we struggle to let
go of it, because, quite frankly, we chose those sins. Sinful yes, but hey, they are my sins and my
identity.
In
my own life, two things stand out. I
built a personal identity around two things that are both destructive to me,
and I would say sinful because of that, but they became part of who I am.
For
many years, a significant part of my identity was that I was a Scotch drinker,
and a smoker.
I
have been set free from one of those, I am still struggling with the
other. Part of the reason breaking free
of such addictions is so difficult is that we have to give up part of our own
identity.
There
are other aspects of our identity as sinners that are more difficult than
physical addictions. The reason they are
so difficult is that we don’t understand or appreciate them as sinful, nor do
we realize how powerless we are at overcoming them.
If
one is an alcoholic, or a smoker, you probably realize, at least I did, that
this is not a good thing.
But
there are other things that masquerade as being good, which in fact are part of
our sinful nature.
Freedom,
for example.
What
do we value more in this country than freedom?
We
have a national identity built around being the leaders of the free world, as
opposed to other nations whom we see and understand to be living in bondage.
Freedom. A good thing, we would say. One of the things we value more than anything
else.
Are
we called to be free to live according to our own will?
Or
are we called to be obedient to the will of God?
In
order to embrace one of those identities we must give up the other. To claim Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior
is to no longer be free, but rather to be bound to the one who loves us.
Another
part of our old self is the notion that we are what we have. We are a materialistic society. Our homes, our cars, our furniture, our
clothes, and, yes, certainly our vast array of toys, define and shape our very
identity.
This
is never clearer than when fire or flood destroys everything we have
accumulated.
Are
material possessions a blessing of God or a curse under which we live? Do our possessions set us free or bind
us?
There
are many more examples we might cite.
But
the point is this: That in order to
enjoy the new life that is ours in Christ Jesus, there will be a grieving over
the old life that we must let go of.
Everything
comes at a cost, there are no free lunches.
To
be a child of God means that we no longer children of this world.
The
old self dies that the new self might arise.
What
does being a child of God entail?
Jesus
says: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all
your soul, and with all your mind.”
To
love the Lord our God with ALL our heart, soul, and mind, means that we must
give up our love for much of what has previously defined us.
Now
is when I’m supposed to say: “This new life in Christ will be great.” That’s true.
But
the truth is, it will also be hard.
Amen
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