I just finished reading this (the last quote below) and then quickly reread it. Closed the book and dreamed of some glory workout- sweat flying through the air in slow-mo scenes of burning delight and joy and energy. The zeal this fires up in me is worth punching the air for, or pounding a punching bag... at the very least it's worth pounding out on the keyboard to share with you.
This is from Russell Moore's book Adopted for Life. Honestly, I've only read through the first two chapters so I'm not qualified to tell you about the whole book, but I will tell you- I LOVE THIS. So far, what I've read hits more on the theological greatness and implications of adoption, but the book is also aimed at presenting adoption as a mission priority for Christians and I'm eager to get to that part too...
Moore opened chapter two describing his difficulty responding to people's comments and questions about their two sons, born three weeks apart, who they adopted from Russia.
"... People kept asking, "Are they brothers?"
"They are now, " I replied. "Yes," the woman said. "I know. But are they really brothers?"... The woman sighed, rolled her eyes, and said "Well, you know what I mean."
A few pages later, "...the New Testament addresses former Satan-imagers [us] with the good news. It's not just that we have a stay of execution, a suspension of doom. It's not simply that those who trust in Christ have found a refuge, a safe place, or a foster home. All those in Christ, Paul argues, have received sonship. We are now "Abraham's offspring" (Gal. 3:29)." (p.30)
Moore moved on to hammer on the word "brother". In contrast to aliens and strangers, sojourners and even neighbor, "brother" is altogether different. It should ring differently in our hearts too.
"Adoption would become a priority in our churches if our churches saw our brotherhood and sisterhood in the church itself rather than in our fleshly identities.... If we had fewer "white" churches and "black" churches, fewer "blue-collar" churches and "white-collar" churches maybe we'd see better what Jesus tells us when he says we've come into a new household with one Spirit, one Father, one Christ. In fact, maybe the reason we wonder whether "adopted" children can "really" be brothers and sisters is because we so rarely see it demonstrated in our pews." (p. 39)
Moore shared how painfully difficult it was for both their boys to leave their dirty orphanage because it was all they had ever known. They seemed to be asking themselves the legitimacy of this new claim.... these words, these promises whispered over them.
The whole chapter is so good and there's much more in it that would lead up to this conclusion with a fuller, greater appreciation but, I'll still share here his concluding words- this is the stuff that had my blood jumping the highest:
"The real struggle for me shouldn't be the occasional rude question about my sons' identity; it should be the ongoing question about my own. Maybe such questions bothered me so much because they are being asked about me, all the time, within the echo chamber of my own fallen psyche and by unseen rebel angels all around. Are you really a son of the Living God? Does your God really know you? Does this biblical story really belong to you? Are these really your brothers and sisters? Do you really belong here? The question of identity related to adoption was so desperate because it challenged the authenticity of my family. But more than that, it challenged the authenticity of the gospel I'd believed since childhood.
The warfare that crackles all around us is quite like that. The powers threatened by the inheritance of which we will speak next, want to redirect our minds from who we are in Christ; they want to point us instead to our own flesh- to our impending death, to our instinctual resemblance to Satan. The problem is we are so easily outwitted by such designs. We veer from a fleshly self-sufficiency to a fleshly despair to a fleshly tribalism. And in all this we loose sight of Christ. In adoption we find ourselves- in Jesus. We see something we cannot perceive with our eyes.
Our adoption is about more than just belonging. Our adoption is about the day when the graves of this planet will be emptied, when the great assembly of Christ's church will be gathered before the Judgement Seat. On that day, the accusing principalities and powers will probably look once more at us- former murderers and fornicators and idolators, formerly uncircumcised in flesh or in heart- and they may ask one more time, "So are they brothers?" The hope of adopted children like my sons- and like me- is that the voice that once thundered over the Jordan will respond, one last time, "They are now." (p. 57)
Friends, I hope you know the hope he wrote of here. It's not a wishful penny lost, tossed in the fountain at the end of our days. The reason that Russell Moore can write so confidently of such a hope is because of Jesus. They are.... We are... because of Jesus.
His death secures an eternal redemption- absolute pardon from our sins, total forgiveness- for all who trust in him (Hebrews 9:11-12). The Spirit he promised and faithfully gives to all who call on him, seals us that we are his (Ephesians 1:13) and guarantees that he will bring us as his own sons and daughters into his home, forever loved, fully, irrevocably his own- his. very. own. children... (Galatians 3:28-29, Romans 8:15) Because of Jesus Christ's death- the death that we owe, that we deserve- we can come now and call this Holy God "Daddy Father."
I'm praying as I'm typing that the Lord will stir these words in each of our hearts to answer his invitation, to trust in Christ, or to embrace this great reminder today.
I warmly invite your comments and response, dear friends... and I'm especially interested to hear from those of you friends who haven't grown up in this family of Christ. You are loved.
"... People kept asking, "Are they brothers?"
"They are now, " I replied. "Yes," the woman said. "I know. But are they really brothers?"... The woman sighed, rolled her eyes, and said "Well, you know what I mean."
A few pages later, "...the New Testament addresses former Satan-imagers [us] with the good news. It's not just that we have a stay of execution, a suspension of doom. It's not simply that those who trust in Christ have found a refuge, a safe place, or a foster home. All those in Christ, Paul argues, have received sonship. We are now "Abraham's offspring" (Gal. 3:29)." (p.30)
Moore moved on to hammer on the word "brother". In contrast to aliens and strangers, sojourners and even neighbor, "brother" is altogether different. It should ring differently in our hearts too.
"Adoption would become a priority in our churches if our churches saw our brotherhood and sisterhood in the church itself rather than in our fleshly identities.... If we had fewer "white" churches and "black" churches, fewer "blue-collar" churches and "white-collar" churches maybe we'd see better what Jesus tells us when he says we've come into a new household with one Spirit, one Father, one Christ. In fact, maybe the reason we wonder whether "adopted" children can "really" be brothers and sisters is because we so rarely see it demonstrated in our pews." (p. 39)
Moore shared how painfully difficult it was for both their boys to leave their dirty orphanage because it was all they had ever known. They seemed to be asking themselves the legitimacy of this new claim.... these words, these promises whispered over them.
The whole chapter is so good and there's much more in it that would lead up to this conclusion with a fuller, greater appreciation but, I'll still share here his concluding words- this is the stuff that had my blood jumping the highest:
"The real struggle for me shouldn't be the occasional rude question about my sons' identity; it should be the ongoing question about my own. Maybe such questions bothered me so much because they are being asked about me, all the time, within the echo chamber of my own fallen psyche and by unseen rebel angels all around. Are you really a son of the Living God? Does your God really know you? Does this biblical story really belong to you? Are these really your brothers and sisters? Do you really belong here? The question of identity related to adoption was so desperate because it challenged the authenticity of my family. But more than that, it challenged the authenticity of the gospel I'd believed since childhood.
The warfare that crackles all around us is quite like that. The powers threatened by the inheritance of which we will speak next, want to redirect our minds from who we are in Christ; they want to point us instead to our own flesh- to our impending death, to our instinctual resemblance to Satan. The problem is we are so easily outwitted by such designs. We veer from a fleshly self-sufficiency to a fleshly despair to a fleshly tribalism. And in all this we loose sight of Christ. In adoption we find ourselves- in Jesus. We see something we cannot perceive with our eyes.
Our adoption is about more than just belonging. Our adoption is about the day when the graves of this planet will be emptied, when the great assembly of Christ's church will be gathered before the Judgement Seat. On that day, the accusing principalities and powers will probably look once more at us- former murderers and fornicators and idolators, formerly uncircumcised in flesh or in heart- and they may ask one more time, "So are they brothers?" The hope of adopted children like my sons- and like me- is that the voice that once thundered over the Jordan will respond, one last time, "They are now." (p. 57)
Friends, I hope you know the hope he wrote of here. It's not a wishful penny lost, tossed in the fountain at the end of our days. The reason that Russell Moore can write so confidently of such a hope is because of Jesus. They are.... We are... because of Jesus.
His death secures an eternal redemption- absolute pardon from our sins, total forgiveness- for all who trust in him (Hebrews 9:11-12). The Spirit he promised and faithfully gives to all who call on him, seals us that we are his (Ephesians 1:13) and guarantees that he will bring us as his own sons and daughters into his home, forever loved, fully, irrevocably his own- his. very. own. children... (Galatians 3:28-29, Romans 8:15) Because of Jesus Christ's death- the death that we owe, that we deserve- we can come now and call this Holy God "Daddy Father."
I'm praying as I'm typing that the Lord will stir these words in each of our hearts to answer his invitation, to trust in Christ, or to embrace this great reminder today.
I warmly invite your comments and response, dear friends... and I'm especially interested to hear from those of you friends who haven't grown up in this family of Christ. You are loved.
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