A Word For The Orphans Of This World
It’s not easy not being wanted. Even when rejection is the most loving choice available, it doesn’t make the confusion, the isolation, and the spiritual homelessness any easier in the heart of a child.
I know. I’ve been there. It wasn’t easy then, and it isn’t easy now. But healing is available for your soul and mine. Let me show you how.
My biological mother gave birth to an adorable baby boy in a hospital in New York City in October of 1973. By God’s grace (I guess… cf. Php 1:23) I was not aborted in the first year of the legalization of abortion under the Roe v. Wade decision.
Why might I have been aborted? You see, my mother was a prostitute and a cocaine addict who had neither place nor use for this ‘bundle of joy’. She gave me her pimp’s last name on my birth certificate, but called me by our family name until, desperate and hurting, she surrendered me to her father and his new wife.
Since Grandpa hadn’t exactly done a stellar job of raising his own children, he and Grandma weren’t looking for another chance to mess up. So, to make a long story short, I moved from home to home and place to place, usually a step ahead of some state’s version of the Department of Child Services, until I was nine and my half-uncle and his wife took their first steps down the long road that would eventually make them my mom and dad.
They took me in, and I praise God for their grace and love. They weren’t prepared for the challenges I presented, but they stepped up to the plate. Sometimes I think that’s all God needs to redeem this world… a few people who will stop worrying about being prepared and just step up to the plate. But I digress.
I was nine, and had never lived anywhere for longer than 6 months. The die was already cast. Over the next twelve years, I never attended the same school for more than two years, including the United States Military Academy at West Point, which I quit after four semesters.
When God brought me near, I was homeless in Nashville, Tennessee, crashing in a friend’s dorm room at Lipscomb University and using borrowed meal cards to eat in the cafeteria. Jeff Walling preached the Spring 1994 campus revival, and through his words, God’s grace broke through to me. How I would like to say that when he washed me in the waters of baptism, all my wounds were healed instantly. But that would be a lie. Possible, but false.
God was too awesome for me. Like Peter, I fell to my knees before him, crushed by the awful cognizance of my sin. Like Peter, I confessed His name and predicted great victories in my life. Like Peter, I ran when it got hard. Unlike Peter, I ran for years. Years.
I ran all the way to Frankfort, Kentucky. During my running, I hurt God, myself, and others with my sin. During my running, grace gave me my two best friends: my wife Carly and my brother-of-the-heart Rick. My running began to end when I read John’s record of Crucifixion Night. He gives us one of Jesus’ most intimate and lengthy discourses, going on for five of our chapters. One that night, Jesus promised his closest friends…
“If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him.”
These are healing words to the homeless heart, scarred by abandonment and rejection! A man from Galilee has a Father who is rich enough (Ps 50, Acts 17:25) and loving enough (Luke 15) to adopt every homeless heart on Earth! His Father will love us! His Father will adopt us and live with us.
“DON’T MESS WITH ME, Jesus! NOT YOU! I couldn’t take it if you lied to me, too. I couldn’t survive.”
Jesus’ father raised Him from the dead to show us that Jesus knew EXACTLY what He was talking about. Let his healing love, his powerful words, soak into your heart and soften the scars the evil one has left behind. He IS faithful, and He WILL do it.
in HIS love,