Giving Up A Son

Two months ago, we added a foster son to our family. I can't use his name online for various reasons, so he'll be "J" for the rest of this note. J was a scared little guy when he came to our family, and we barely knew anything about his situation. We were initially told it was bad, and that he would likely be with us for a long time, possibly even ending in adoption into our family. Without getting into details, it simply doesn't look like that's the case at all anymore. It's very possible he'll be reunited with his biological mother in a month or two.

As a father of three beautiful children, I know how deep my love for them goes. It may sound trite when parents say they would do anything for their children, but it's absolutely true. Children are a gift from God, and they each possess your heart in a way that can't be adequately described in words. With that knowledge in mind, I was honestly skeptical whether I could love someone else's child like my own. Two months ago, I would have said it wasn't possible. As time went on though, J convinced me otherwise. That realization caused me to consciously try to hold back a tiny piece of my heart from him. Perhaps out of fear of being hurt when he leaves our family. Perhaps so I could still show love toward his biological mom, even when I don't like some of the decisions she makes. Whatever the reasons, I was trying to not fully love him. I can say without a doubt, I have failed in that goal.

In my heart, J is one of my children. I love him as much as I love Connor, Bryce, and Alexis. He is part of our family. Every day, I watch him grow and flourish into a confident one year old boy. I watch him fall in love with Jennifer. I watch the bonds form between him and his siblings in our family. I watch myself fall in love with him more and more.

And now, I have to start preparing to give him up, and I don't like it.

This really struck me at First Tuesday when Matt Carter challenged us to consider what was holding us back from pouring out everything we had to God. I knew immediately what my current hang-up centered on. Giving up J. I don't want to do it, because I love J. It will hurt me. It will hurt Jennifer. It will make my children sad. As I wallowed in self-pity, the Holy Spirit pierced me with an understanding that was at once painful yet beautiful.

We will likely be sending J back to his mother soon. As much as I may not want him to leave our family, the fact is, his mother does love him. He'll be returning to a fairly good home situation, especially compared to most foster care cases. I may get angry or frustrated at some of the choices that will be made for him, or due to some of the situations he'll be placed into, but he's going back to his mom. A mom that loves him, even if she has made a few bad decisions. He's not going back to an abusive situation. He's not going back to a dangerous situation. That knowledge alone is a comfort, but that's when the bomb dropped.

God willingly gave up his "J" for me. God knowingly sent his son into a world where he would be mocked, ridiculed, hurt, tortured, and ultimately killed. His son that he had developed a relationship with for an eternity, not just two or three months. His son that he loved beyond anything I can imagine. It got worse.

God gave up his son to be Sin. He didn't just give up his son, he poured out the righteous wrath and judgement that I deserved onto his son. His only child was beaten. His only child was spit upon. His only child was tortured. His only child was nailed to a cross to suffer an extremely painful death. As if that wasn't enough, his only child experienced complete and utter separation from his father when he took on sin.

All of it was done for me. All of the sacrifice, all of the pain, all of the separation; for me. That's a depth of love that defies understanding. That kind of love is fanatical. That kind of love is intense. That kind of love restores my broken relationship with God the Father. That's a beautiful reminder of God's love for me.

I wish I could say this reminder will make giving J back hurt less, but I don't think I can say that yet. It's going to hurt. It's going to break my heart. But, I can rest in the understanding that any pain I might experience pales in comparison to what God did when he gave up Jesus to a broken world. I can rest in the knowledge that my God is perfect, and that J's time in our family brought glory and renown to His name. I can be confident that God's will is being worked in our family and in J. Even more comforting is the understanding that J has a Father that loves him more than I ever could.

I may have to give J up soon, but I know God has already given up everything for him.

Throwing Drinks

While out for my normal afternoon cycling session, a man in a truck pulled up beside me and threw his drink at me and said some less than complimentary things about me and my chosen activity. (The drink bounced harmlessly off my shoulder, no worries.) It's not the first time I've had motorists yell at me, but it was the first time I've had something actually thrown at me. The road I was riding on at the time is a four lane road with minimal traffic. It's a hellacious climb that drops my speed down to 13 or 14 miles an hour, so passing me requires a matter of seconds. I ride as far to the right as I safely can, and there is an entirely open lane available for passing traffic. 99.9% of drivers simply change lanes and continue on their way. Not this guy. As he sped off, I started thinking what could cause such a strong reaction towards another human being.

It was obviously nothing personal since we've never met. It was obviously not because I was impeding his ability to get to his destination since there was no other traffic. So, why throw a drink at me? Why yell obscenities at me? I think it's because deep down, something in him wishes he had the desire and discipline to better his physical condition. There is something in us all that challenges us to better ourselves, but we don't like that little voice. It requires a change to our comfortable lifestyle. It requires suffering as we push ourselves to improve. It requires discipline to make something a priority on a regular basis. It requires getting out and exercising instead of throwing back a Route 44, super-sized combo meal. All of that adds up to a level of work we often aren't interested in pursuing, and it's easier to just throw a drink, yell, and continue on our way.

That's a nice observation, but it really doesn't mean very much if it's just about physical activity. My mind quickly turned to how this same behavior takes place in our faith. No, we don't physically throw drinks or yell profanities at our brothers and sisters in Christ; instead, we do something much worse. We begin to justify our own unwillingness to dedicate time and effort to God by attacking those that challenge us. When we hear someone share how God spoke to them at 6 a.m. during their daily quiet time, it stirs up a longing in us. We long to know God. We long to be like Christ. We long to be involved in God's activity. All too often though, we write off those longings because they will require too much work, call us to change comfortable aspects of our lives, and even hurt at times. Rather than deal with that, we respond by finding flaws in the person challenging us, even when they don't realize they did so. "Oh, well, he's a terrible father." "You should hear what she said about so-and-so." "Can you believe what he/she did last month?" We "throw drinks" at people because it's easy. It makes us feel better, and it helps us ignore the Holy Spirit calling us to bigger and better activities with God.

Most of us would never even think of actually throwing a drink at someone, but we're all too willing to tear someone down when their actions challenge our comfort level with God. We'd much rather just show up for a service every week, sponsor an orphan or two, and pray when we need something. That's easy. There's no work involved, just like driving up that hill in a truck requires no effort. The problem with it though is the complete lack of growth. Just like I can't become a stronger cyclist without suffering up a hill rather than riding in a vehicle, I can't grow as a disciple of Christ without constantly challenging myself to grow in the disciplines of faith. Does the human part of me think it's fun to get up early to spend time with God? Of course not. But, I know it's one way I come to know my Savior more and more. My relationship with Christ grows stronger through the constant effort and discipline of prioritizing that relationship above all else.

Ultimately, getting hit by a drink while on my bike is no big deal. It might have caused me a few seconds of discomfort, and it might have thrown my rhythm off briefly, but it didn't keep me from enjoying myself, and it didn't keep me from becoming a better rider. Sadly, when we "throw drinks" at our brothers and sisters in Christ, we can hurt someone deeply. In a selfish attempt to make ourselves feel better, we miss out on an opportunity to draw closer to our Savior. We miss out on opportunities to be involved with God's best plan for our lives. We do all this because we falsely believe it's too hard to have an intimate relationship with Christ. Does it take work? Yes. Does it take discipline? Yes. Does it sometimes hurt? Yes. Is it worth temporary suffering and hardship to experience the depth of God's love and dreams for us? Absolutely.

So, the next time God challenges you to take your relationship with Him to the next level, don't throw a drink. Get on the bike.

Swarm

I saw something beautiful today. A small flock of birds, probably 50 or less, was swooping and diving in formation. There didn't seem to be any purpose to it, other than the simple joy of flight. The amazing thing was watching the intricacy of the formations, the precision, and the efficiency. As a programmer, I know the general way "swarm" can be simulated, i.e. each bird simply stays a certain distance away from each other bird, while also remaining a certain distance within the other birds. Done on an individual scale, the algorithm scales up to the extremely complex "swarm" behavior we see in birds, insects, and other created things. Although the algorithm is actually fairly straightforward, we're nowhere close to being able to implement something like the group dynamics of swarming bird flight in physical reality. Machines would require the invention of new materials, power sources, communication methods, and likely a number of other things I can't even imagine.

As I sat watching, it hit me how amazing God's creation, and therefore God, is. His creation is stunning. Stunning in beauty, stunning in scale, stunning in complexity, and stunning in simplicity. There is no iterative process like there is in programming; God's creation was perfect from the beginning. That blows me away.

Noise

When was the last time you heard nothing?

It seems everywhere we go there is noise. Everything we do involves noise. Get in a car, turn on the radio. Go to the gym, plug in the headphones. Come home from work, turn on the TV. Even if we aren't listening, we still do these things.

Why?

I think we are afraid of quiet. Afraid of silence. Afraid of ourselves.

The noise, whether foreground or background, keeps us from having to actually think about our life. We can just tap our feet to the music. We can have our conversations scripted for us. Just discuss the latest. News. Sports. Weather. Anything but your own life. We go to dinner and never say a word about anything except the game that's on. We read a book with the TV on. We blast the latest Top 40 and have 900 channels to distract us. No pesky thoughts of our own invading.

Silence is awkward. It makes us think.