Yearning for Adoption

Around Mother's Day this year, I was flipping through photos on Instagram and one made me stop just before I was about to swipe the screen to continue scrolling. Friends of mine that I have only had loose contact with at best for the last couple of years posted a photo of a boy they are in the process of adopting from Haiti. The boy's name is Andy, and in the photo he is smiling from ear to ear. Also captured in the photo is a mother's day card he had sent to his mother Jen. In my heart, I could only imagine the spectrum of emotion that card would bring. With no doubt, tremendous joy would accompany it. To know receive a token of love from a new child would be such an amazing gift. At the same time, thousands of miles currently separate the family. Andy is their son, but he isn't home yet. I was heartbroken for them.

Around the same time as I first saw this instagram picture, I was working on sharing some reflections on Romans 8:22-27 with my students. Here's the text:

22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as son, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is een is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? 25But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. 26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.

In a sense, we're all awaiting adoption. We're groaning for it--the land longs for it--all of creation is yearning for it. We desperately long for a world put to rights by God--a world where mercy and justice reign--a world that our vocabulary doesn't quite contain. We lack the words we need to really describe that longing. Yet, when I see a picture of Andy smiling and giving mother's day love, I get somewhat of a grip on it. But even so our prayers for newness sometimes don't seem like enough.

As I prepared for the trip to Malawi with the World Vision/NCM team, I really had no idea what to expect. I was asked to lead a small devotion for the team during the week, and this Scripture immediately came to mind. I knew that ahead of us on the journey would be images and sights that would be difficult to process, so to this Scripture I turned.

I shared with the group Andy's story about groaning for adoption. We reflected about some of the things we saw in the first few days of our visit; forests that had been decimated by arsonists, children running though rock and dirt barefoot, and one in nine or one in ten of the persons we encountered as living with either HIV or Aids. One the other hand, images flooded our minds of water springing up from new wells, noises of livestock and chicken in the villages, and sights of beautiful greens as corn, onions, and beans were growing. The land is groaning for redemption; the land is being made new.

I directed the group to intercessory prayer. The reason I love the Romans 8:22-27 passage so much is because of the hope we have in a Spirit that is able to speak the language of prayer that our words cannot utter no matter how hard we try. I urged everyone just to lift up a name or an experience from the day in the area development projects without giving many more words to it. After each request was presented, we followed the simple liturgy, 'Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy'. In this practice of prayer, we let the Spirit fill in the words we didn't know how to speak.

As we were heading home, I had a serendipitous encounter that I now view as a grace from God. Our flight from Lilongwe to Addis had been delayed, and we worried we were going to miss the flight back to Washington, DC. Upon arrival, we learned that they had held the flight and were waiting for us to board. We rushed through from one gate to the next, breathing a deep sigh because we would make the journey home as planned. I found my seat, plopped down and looked to my right. In that moment I saw one of the most joyous things I have ever seen. There sat a new mother and a new father who were bringing home their adopted child for the first time. In there faces was excitement, nerves, exhaustion, and incredible relief. Through the flight, we shared a bit of conversation. Eric and Carol (from Minneapolis) had been on this journey to adopt for three years. Their son (whose name started with a 'B' and ended with a 'lou'...I wish I could remember it exactly) is 20 months old and came from an orphanage in southern Ethiopia. He was so good on the flight. Finally their longing to have a child of their own had come to fruition.

Often as I sat trying to pass the hours until we were back in the states, I'd look over and just give a half smile. Coming home for Eric and Carol presents a whole new list of challenges but a joy that is greater. When we were getting ready to land I had to tell them: 'I don't know you all, but I just want you to know that I am so happy for you'.

I have joy because as difficult as it is to believe sometimes, God is in the process of adopting us into sonship (and daughtership). One day the adoption will be made complete. Our bodies will be transformed. In the meantime, we who are awaiting our adoption have the opportunity to do things on this earth that are a foretaste of the great adoption that is to come. We care for the marginalized. We take in the orphan. We investigate ways to preserve what God has created. 

And in the meantime our prayers are carried by the Spirit who gives better words to them than might ever be able to conjure. 

Thanks be to God.

Note: The Capozzi Family is still awaiting the adoption of their son Andy to come through. Please join with their family in prayer as they long for him to come home.