This week we celebrated 11 years since getting our daughter from an overseas orphanage. If it had been up to me, we wouldn't have done that.
And I would have been a fool.
Adoption always fell into the "other people" category for me. Other people adopt children, just like other people become missionaries, or other people (fill in the blank).
Like most guys, I was happy to support the idea of adoption, always willing to give money to the lady who spoke at church or watch a good documentary on the subject of suffering children and agree that 'something should be done.'
Then one day, as she is wont to do, the Spartan Queen1 challenged me.
She asked whether we should adopt. We had three kids at that point, and the goal had been four, and now she was feeling led to adopt.
I listened respectfully and gave the "let's pray about it" answer that is so easy to give. And we did. And I did. I sincerely did.
I just never felt it.
My wife felt it, though, and one day I realized she was taking it quite seriously.
Packets of information from different adoption agencies started showing up on our doorstep. There were a lot of options and a lot of dollar signs. Before I knew it, information packets were being filled out and appointments with home study agencies being made.
I don't think it really hit me that it was all happening until my wife and I were at the airport to go get our new child. We'd dropped our other kids off at Grammy's house and put a car seat in the back of our vehicle to be ready to transport our acquisition when we returned. I remember looking at the empty car seat right before locking the car and thinking, "Huh. I guess this is real."
I wasn't excited. I was doing it out of a strange sense of obligation and obedience. To give myself a little credit, I wasn't opposed to it. I just didn't feel anything. It was my wife's thing, and the Bible says to defend the orphan, so here we are. Roger that, sir.
After several weeks of ferrying between government agencies in the host country, we finally met her: a pudgy little scowling two year-old. She liked my wife right away, and hated me just as quickly. Every time I walked into a room, she cried and ran away, or hid under the table and hoped I would disappear.
Who can blame her? The only humans she’d ever seen were orphanage staff, who were universally Asian females. I am a six foot-tall shaved-headed white guy with a beard. I looked like a monster to her.
I didn't take it personally. I just felt a little sad and a little numb. All of that effort and (be honest) expense just to be snubbed? They kept reassuring me this was normal and I needed to give it time. Sounds good. Happy to.
Then two things happened.
First, she finally stopped running in fear from me. Miracle of miracles, she even let me read her a book. There were tears of relief all around, but even then, I don't think I fully felt it.
Second, since she was a special needs case, we went to one of the many doctors that would be required to help her in life. After he’d thoroughly examined her ears, he said that she must have been in tremendous pain.
I asked him why.
He said, "Well, she has a large amount of scar tissue on her ear drums and in other parts of her inner ear, so she has had many ear infections in her life already. It's probably caused a little bit of hearing loss. There must have been so much pain for her before she arrived."
Then, finally, I felt it.
Every night to fall asleep, we would see her rock back and forth in her bed. She'd get on her hands and knees and just rock herself. We were told it was a self-taught soothing method she’d learned in the orphanage when there wasn’t someone to comfort her at night.
That day in the doctor's office, as I sat there listening to him describe her ear infection history, the image suddenly appeared of a tiny little toddler girl, alone in an orphanage, suffering ear infection after infection and needing to rock herself to sleep at night to soothe it.
And that shattered me. I think I wept all day. I don't believe it's good for men to constantly weep and wail with emotion, but on that day, I was a blubbering idiot.
I held her to my chest (she finally let me hold her) and I felt the need to repent of my callous heart.
Adoption is something men need to care about.
If we confine it to 'women's ministry,' we're telling the wolves of this world that we are going to stand aside and let women fight our battles.
The Bible says to “plead the case/advocate/defend” the orphan and the widow, depending on which translation you read. All of these translations communicate the urgency of the subject, and none of them give room for having a jelly spine. 2
The Enemy loves it every time a man blows off talk of adoption because he loves being given free ground on the battlefield.
He's happy to have the ‘men of God’ shovel off responsibility to women every chance they get.
He marvels at how easy it is to take advantage of lazy, pathetic losers calling themselves Christian men.
I know that's harsh. But I needed it framed that way for me, and I suspect others out there need it as well.
Because I know this rankles some folks, let me clarify:
-Not everyone is supposed to adopt a child.
-Not every family is being led by God to adopt.
-Adoption is a calling. It must be in response to a calling.
Also, there are not enough adoptions going on in the Christian community, especially in prosperous countries.
Somewhere, someone is ignoring their call to adopt.
A lot of someones.
Adoption is terribly expensive and terribly cumbersome, and that is a spiritual crime that this nation deserves judgment for. Many loving families are truly unable to adopt, either domestically or foreign. It is heartbreaking to sit with them in this kind of suffering.
Unfortunately, many men with families are able—but unwilling. They find excuses to ignore the need.
They assume it’s not for them—just like I did.
Not everyone is called by the Spirit’s leading to adopt, but we are all commanded to defend the orphan and the widow in some fashion within our sphere of operations.
Not because we feel like it, but because the Almighty made us men for a reason.
Men fight.
Men advocate.
Men defend.
Men protect.
Men adopt.
Men help others adopt.
If we call ourselves Christian men, we are acknowledging the greatest adoption of all: the Father sending down the Son to die violently for our sins to make it possible for Him to adopt us.
So, if our hearts are hardened (or worse, bored) about adoption, we are rebelling against the fiery Throne Room of the Ages.
Men in the church complain frequently that they don't live in a different age and carry swords and become grand heroes of chivalry in battle. Then they tune out the lady at church pleading for help with time and resources for the adoption ministry.
We must stop this.
Millions of children need a father. They need a warrior protector and mentor.
Adoption is men's work as well as women's work, and men are uniquely gifted to make a difference. We have resources, time, and ferocity of purpose we can put into this fight.
We can pray seriously about adopting into our own family, and if that is not what the Lord wants for us, we can join the war in some other way.
Fostering children is a form of adoption. More people can qualify for that than for adoption, and yet the need goes unfilled (or poorly filled) because it’s messy and difficult. No question it is.
And it’s a magnificent chance to threaten the Enemy.
In some form or fashion, let’s make war on this front, brothers.
Praise and Arrows.
If you’re new here, that’s my affectionate nickname for my wife.
Isaiah 1:17