I've been thinking about redemption. It's hard not to with a physical, living, breathing, walking example of it living under my roof. In writing about Bogdan's adoption on my other blog, I am overwhelmed by the sense of deja vue. His story is similar to....something. But what?
The nagging feeling follows me as I go about my life. Why does his story seem so familiar? Why does it invoke such a depth of emotion in me? It's more than just being his mom, although there is a lot of emotion associated with that alone.
In grappling with the idea of finding that which was lost, it finally hits me square between the eyes.
His story is my story, too.
His was one of abandonment, rejection, neglect.
Mine was one of darkness, separation, death.
The ending of his story was rewritten. Mine was, too.
He was chosen. We searched for him and once we found him, moved heaven and earth to get to him, at great cost to ourselves and our family.
I was chosen. Like the lone sheep separated from the flock, I was searched for and found. God moved heaven and earth and sacrificed His Son to get to me.
And here's the thing: Being a three-year-old with a cognitive disability, Bogdan shows no gratitude for his new life. We wouldn't expect him to. In fact, I'm sure being ripped away from everything he knows and tossed into this family hardly feels like a gift, at this point. But we love him. Oh, how we love him! He is not, nor will he ever be, a perfect son...and we don't care. With all his self-stimming, hitting, throwing food, etc, we accept him as he is. He is ours and always will be.
Being a human with a sin nature, I show little gratitude for this life I have been given. In fact, I often complain about my circumstances and rail against the One who rescued me from death. I am not, nor will I ever be the perfect daughter, but I am accepted anyway. He loves me. Oh, how He loves me! I am His and always will be.
I have an adoption certificate with an official seal from Serbia certifying that Bogdan will always be mine. Likewise, Scripture tells me that I am sealed in the Holy Spirit (Ephesians 4:30) and that my name is written in the book of life because of my adoption by my Father God (Ephesians 1:5).
Like Bogdan, I don't have to perform or have the right attitude or strive to be loved. I am just loved.
My life is not pretty. I am not all the things I think I should be as a follower of Christ. I am prone to laziness, driven by distraction, scattered, and chronically impatient. I'm a mess.
But God thinks I am a beautiful mess. And He loves me. He knows me, all of me, and He loves me.
When I am still and really ponder that idea, it takes my breath away.
Sacrifice, redemption, amazing grace - the story of my life through the eyes of the One who knows me best...and loves me most.
The nagging feeling follows me as I go about my life. Why does his story seem so familiar? Why does it invoke such a depth of emotion in me? It's more than just being his mom, although there is a lot of emotion associated with that alone.
In grappling with the idea of finding that which was lost, it finally hits me square between the eyes.
His story is my story, too.
His was one of abandonment, rejection, neglect.
Mine was one of darkness, separation, death.
The ending of his story was rewritten. Mine was, too.
He was chosen. We searched for him and once we found him, moved heaven and earth to get to him, at great cost to ourselves and our family.
I was chosen. Like the lone sheep separated from the flock, I was searched for and found. God moved heaven and earth and sacrificed His Son to get to me.
And here's the thing: Being a three-year-old with a cognitive disability, Bogdan shows no gratitude for his new life. We wouldn't expect him to. In fact, I'm sure being ripped away from everything he knows and tossed into this family hardly feels like a gift, at this point. But we love him. Oh, how we love him! He is not, nor will he ever be, a perfect son...and we don't care. With all his self-stimming, hitting, throwing food, etc, we accept him as he is. He is ours and always will be.
Being a human with a sin nature, I show little gratitude for this life I have been given. In fact, I often complain about my circumstances and rail against the One who rescued me from death. I am not, nor will I ever be the perfect daughter, but I am accepted anyway. He loves me. Oh, how He loves me! I am His and always will be.
I have an adoption certificate with an official seal from Serbia certifying that Bogdan will always be mine. Likewise, Scripture tells me that I am sealed in the Holy Spirit (Ephesians 4:30) and that my name is written in the book of life because of my adoption by my Father God (Ephesians 1:5).
Like Bogdan, I don't have to perform or have the right attitude or strive to be loved. I am just loved.
My life is not pretty. I am not all the things I think I should be as a follower of Christ. I am prone to laziness, driven by distraction, scattered, and chronically impatient. I'm a mess.
But God thinks I am a beautiful mess. And He loves me. He knows me, all of me, and He loves me.
When I am still and really ponder that idea, it takes my breath away.
Sacrifice, redemption, amazing grace - the story of my life through the eyes of the One who knows me best...and loves me most.
No comments:
Post a Comment