Spiritual Adoption

When Friedrich Stapel went to move the herd of cows under his care, he had no idea they would attract a following. But that’s exactly what happened after he spotted a wild boar piglet, roaming with his cows in his town of Brevoerde, Germany. He theorized that it must have gotten separated from his own kind while crossing a river, but he couldn’t leave the piglet to fend for himself. He said, “To leave it alone now would be unfair.” He nicknamed the piglet “Frieda,” and told the local hunter not to shoot it.

Whether because of the unusual sight of a piglet roaming with cows, or because of Stapel’s act of compassion, word has gathered in the town. You could say Stapel and his herd of cows have attracted a following.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The heart of Jesus is for all people to be brought into God’s family, especially those isolated or traumatized.

While young Cheyenne was trying to transition out of homelessness at 16, the child welfare agency told her that finding a foster home would be unlikely. In the province of Ontario, around a thousand teenagers age out of the foster care system every year without being placed in a foster family.

Four years later, Cheyenne beat the odds when she was adopted by Shannon Culkeen, the woman who’d been serving as her mentor. For years Shannon and Cheyenne had kept in touch and celebrated several milestones together, including Cheyenne’s high school graduation and her first pow-wow honoring her Ojibwe heritage. But it wasn’t until Shannon applied to become a first-time foster parent that she began to wonder about formalizing their relationship. When asked if she had any other children, and she realized, “I think maybe I do.”

Cheyenne has since legally added the Culkeen surname to hers, and has court documents to prove that they are now legally related. That was the culmination of two years of process, which started when Shannon took Cheyenne on a long drive to make the ask. Shannon said, “I didn't want to put any pressure on her. But in the end, I sort of freaked her out because we were driving, and I just kept on driving further and further because I couldn't spit it out. It's like proposing, but for parenthood.”

But for Cheyenne, “It was 'yes' right off the bat." She’s taken comfort from Shannon’s consistent presence. She said, “Someone has faith in me to do the right thing and will also still be there even if I don't. It's not like I'm doing anything out of fear of losing her."

Shannon’s motivation was simple. "I don't think it's ever too late to make a family.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

The gospel of Jesus Christ is the good news of the lost being found and being brought into God’s family of faith and hope. When we practice adoption, we are mirroring the spirit of adoption that God has for all of us, no matter our earthly lineage.

British radio host Sam Darlaston found a fuzzy surprise when he opened a bag of broccoli from his local grocery store--a caterpillar. But instead of evicting his new furry friend, he decided to take care of it. It turned out that being an ad hoc caterpillar caretaker was just the hobby he needed to pass the time during lockdown in his London apartment.

He told a reporter, “I did my research initially and discovered the exact type of caterpillar/butterfly we were dealing with. I then decided to build him a little home in my (living room) with all the broccoli he wanted.” Darlaston named his caterpillar Cedric, and was planning on maintaining a habitat for one, until another trip to the same store for more broccoli yielded more caterpillars. He said, “The broccoli I’d got as a replacement contained 5 more. And then a 3rd broccoli belonging to my housemate had another one! So, 1 became 7 caterpillars overnight!”

Over a series of tweets, Darlaston conveyed to his audience how each of them eventually became chrysalis and formed cocoons, only to eventually become butterflies and fly away. “I felt a tiny bit sad watching them spread their wings but overall feeling was happiness … I’m just happy at least one of us gets to go out during these times.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

No matter how we’ve arrived or what condition we're in, God loves and receives us into His family. Not only that, but God will continue the work He started in your life, even when others have abandoned you.

Mr. Jay Speights of America discovered that he is royal. He took a DNA test and the results popped up as being of royal descent. The funny thing is that Speights grew up in New Jersey. He lives in an apartment. He does not even own a car. But now he’s a prince.

NPR reports that he visited his long-lost country and was welcomed home as royalty. Another paper reported, “When he first arrived, he saw what looked like a festival, hundreds of people dancing and playing instruments and singing. It took him several minutes to realize it was a welcome party—for him.” Here’s an excerpt from his interview on NPR:

Steve Inskeep (host): Royal DNA? Mr. Speights is a prince in the small West African country of Benin. His family had been trying to learn the African side of their lineage for decades, and at last, he had an answer. So naturally, he got on a plane.

Speights: Next thing you know, I'm in Benin, being crowned as a prince. It was that easy.

Inskeep: The royal family prepared a festival for his homecoming. They hung up banners. They held a parade. And because the prince had no experience with prince-ing, the royal family sent him to a so-called prince school.

Speights: What may have added to the intensity of emotion was that it was my father's birthday. And to land there on my father's birthday was just unbelievable. And I tell you, my father's presence was with me. I could see him and feel him.

Possible Preaching Angles: When we come to Christ we discover we are a child of God, adopted as royalty into God’s family.

In 2001, Diane Granito founded the Heart Gallery, a unique program that uses photography to help find homes for older foster children, sibling groups, and other children who are traditionally difficult to place with families. A prominent art gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico, donated space where more than a thousand people came opening night. The photos on exhibit were the end result of the photographers' attempts to coax out the unique personalities in hundreds of children—a great contrast to the typical photos attached to a child's file. "They look like mug shots," said one of the photographers of the typical case photos. "This is an opportunity to just portray them as kids in their environments," said another involved. "We're treating this as a living, breathing project."

Since its inception, the Santa Fe project has inspired 120 more Heart Galleries across the United States. In some places, the adoption rate after an exhibit is more than double the nationwide rate of adoption from foster care. Such photography earns a description worthy of its roots: photography in Greek means "to write in light."

Those who work to find foster children adoptive families are used to rubbing up against the public perception that most foster children have serious emotional and behavioral problems. Sometimes, though not always, it is an accurate perception. And a picture offered in a different light does not change the child it portrays. But an image of a troubled child at play does offer the accurate light of hope.

Possible Preaching Angles: God the Father adopted us as his children when we stood in the worst of all possible lights. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. That is to say, as Christ died for the sins of the world, he held dear even the pictures of us at our worst. But now God the Father views us in the light of Christ himself.

Skye Jethani uses the following personal story to illustrate the beauty of God as a Trinity, a party of love and goodness and power:

Have you ever found yourself at a party you stumbled into, maybe uninvited or totally unexpected—and just had a great time? I was in Cooperstown, New York at the Baseball Hall of Fame on the weekend when three players were inducted. The night before the induction there was a private, red carpet reception at the Hall of Fame—and I was there.

I'm not even a baseball fan, but there I was getting a picture with Cal Ripkin, the former short stop for the Baltimore Orioles who still holds the record for starting in the most consecutive pro baseball games—an astounding 2,632 games in a row. I was chilling with former L.A. Dodgers' manager Tommy Lasorda (who sat in one corner like the godfather as people kissed his ring). I had a nice conversation with Jonny Bench, the former catcher who played in 14 All-Star games. There was Andre Dawson, Wade Boggs, and Carlton Fisk. I didn't even know who most of these guys were. But I had a great time. But I had no right being there. I have friends—huge baseball fans—who would have killed for my place at the party. How did I get in?

Turns out that one of the inductees this year was a player named Deacon White. White played in the 1870s—he was one of the early superstars of baseball—an amazing athlete. And it just so happens that I married his great, great, granddaughter. So we got invited to the VIP party at the Baseball Hall of Fame—and we had a great time.

Possible Preaching Angles: Jethani adds, "Friends, the Trinity is a party of love, joy, goodness, creativity, and glory that has been going on forever—and it will continue forever. And you and I have been invited to join it. Not because we've earned the right to be there, but because a long time ago, the Father sent the Son. And the Son died so that our sin would not prevent us from joining it. And the Father raised him from the dead through the power of the Spirit. If we put our faith in him, we too can be filled with the Spirit, raised from death to life, and join the Father, Son, and Spirit in this party that will never end."

According to The Washington Post, the D.C. party scene is attracting more and more of a Hollywood edge, making it far more star-studded then it's ever been. So the newspaper offered some tips on how to get into the hottest parties with famous celebrities.

The Kennedy Center Honors is an annual honor given to those in the performing arts for their lifetime contributions. When an event brings together icons like Tom Hanks, Sting, and Lady Gaga, getting tickets to the event is daunting. And only about 300 tickets get sold to the public. So if you aren't a major donor, honoree, or celebrity, you're best bet is to hit up some of the corporate sponsors or donors. If you're really lucky, they can put in a special request to get you in.

D.C. is also becoming a hot spot for movie premieres, but good luck getting in. The movie studio, corporate sponsors, and local party planners decide the guest list. Their target audience is influential lobbyists and lawmakers.

The White House Correspondents' Dinner is another a hot ticket. It's the D.C. tradition that brings in all sorts VIPS for a night of laughs and barbs. Only members of the White House Correspondents' Association can buy tickets, but they can give them to anyone. So make some friends in the news biz.

Getting an invite to the White House is tough enough, a State Dinner, nearly impossible. There's no buying your way in. And there are very few no-shows, so forget a wait list. The President and First Lady have the final say on the guest list. The criteria for an invite is typically a prominent person who's at the top of their field, someone who has a business in the country being honored, or someone who personally knows the visiting head of state. So good luck with that one.

Here's a creative way to illustrate the biblical view of justification by faith, which includes not only receiving forgiveness, but also receiving a new status. (Thanks to Tim Keller for the basis for this illustration.)

Imagine that you are pitted in a one-on-one spiritual marathon race against Jesus—just you and Jesus at the starting line. The gun goes off and Jesus bolts out ahead of you with blazing speed. He makes Usain Bolt, the Jamaican world record-holding sprinter, look like a human tortoise. Jesus runs a perfect race. He never gets lost or loses focus. He never takes one bad stride. With much fanfare and acclaim, he finishes the entire marathon in seven seconds. (He could have finished the race in negative time, since he's outside of time, but seven seemed like a nice number.) It's a new cosmic record!

Finally, in this spiritual marathon, you straggle across the finish line … about five years later … You lost your focus and got tangled in bushes. You frequently tripped over your own shoelaces and fell in the mud, flat on your face. As you gasp and collapse at the finish line, you look up and see Jesus already standing on the winner's platform. He has a gold medal around his neck while you feel defeated and ashamed.

But as you start to slink away Jesus calls your name and motions for you to come towards him. You whisper, "Who me?" and he says, "Yes, you, come join me on the winner's platform." So you sheepishly join Jesus on the gold medal platform. He puts his arm around your shoulder and says, "Look, I know all about your race. It wasn't pretty, but you are forgiven. And just so you know, while I was racing ahead of you, I was also with you every step of your race." And then he takes his gold medal and slips it over your head while it stays on his head too. The reporters start taking your picture with Jesus. They start asking questions like, "Hey, Jesus and the other guy [woman] who looks really shocked to be up there, how do you two feel about being winners? What are you two going to do with your gold medal?"

And then it hits you: you are being treated as if you ran Jesus' race. You are receiving honor based on Jesus' world record time and performance. That is what it means to receive justification by faith.

The headline in the Chicago Tribune was poignant: "Living a Life Unknown." The subhead said, "Dozens of John, Jane Does turn up yearly at Illinois police stations and hospitals. Most are identified. These 5 weren't."

Despite all the efforts of social services and police, no one seems to know a woman who calls herself Seven. She says she is 71 and that she's gone by that name since 1976. She's been in state care since 2003 and has dementia. Even her smiling picture on the front page of a Chicago paper is not likely to help.

Some have names—Robert Rockefeller, Shannon Night—and others bear the last name of anonymity—Doe. But no one knows who they are.

Sometimes, though, an identity is discovered. A man they named Carlos has been a ward of the state since 1998, longer than any of the other John Does in Illinois. According to the Tribune, "He doesn't speak and likely had a stroke that caused brain damage. He uses a wheelchair and wears a medical helmet to prevent injuries. His only reaction to people is a wide smile and a giddy giggle."

Then on November 29, 2011, the staff at the care facility where Carlos lives discovered his identity and that that day was his 53rd birthday. According to the story, "That day, caretaker Azucena Herrera went to Carlos and uttered the name Crispin Mareno. The usually giggly man fell silent after hearing his real name for the first time in at least 13 years. Then tears ran down his cheek."

Possible Preaching Angle: People can live for years without hearing their real name, without discovering their real identity. But in Christ we find our true identity. We are adopted as children of the Father; we belong to him, and he calls us by our real name.

In The Gospel of Matthew, Matt Woodley writes:

Eighteen years ago my friend Andy and his wife traveled to a South American country to complete their adoption of a little girl. At the time this country was gripped by corruption, violence, and political chaos. After Andy arrived, they (that is, anyone who could profit from Andy's plight) kept upping the price for the adoption. When he finally threatened to take the matter to the U.S. consulate, a mysterious figure confronted Andy, warning him of vague but dreadful consequences. It was like a spy thriller, except it was Andy who was caught in the middle of some sinister, dangerous plot.

But he refused to leave without his daughter. The odd thing was that Andy had never even met this girl. She was small and helpless. She hadn't won any awards or aced any tests. He didn't know that one day her smile would light up their living room, or that she'd love their cats and dogs, or that she'd play Mozart pieces on the family piano. For all practical purposes, she was just an orphan condemned to a life of grinding poverty in a far-flung developing country. But for some crazy reason, Andy stayed there, negotiating with corrupt officials, spending oodles of money, squandering time, and even risking his life to find and win this little girl.

Now, eighteen years later, Andy was telling me about an intimate high school graduation party for Maria, his adopted daughter. At one point during the meal, Maria unexpectedly stood up and gave a beautiful speech thanking everyone who had helped her find a better life on Long Island.

As Andy told me this story, he was trying to fight back the tears. I got the impression that he could have lived a hundred more years, or even a hundred lifetimes, and nothing would compare to hearing Maria's spontaneous thank-you. And it all started when Andy walked into that dangerous nightmare in an attempt to bring her home.

When he finished telling me this story, it struck me that Andy, my non-Christian friend, had discovered the heart of the gospel: God's loving, daring, persistent pursuit of people like you and me. Like Maria, there's nothing we can do to earn God's love, but he still loves us. And he doesn't want to leave us behind. Instead, in the presence of Jesus, God walked into the "dangerous nightmare" of human sin and pain in order to save us and bring us back home.

Fred and Cheryl went to Haiti 25 years ago to pick up a child they had adopted. Addie was five-years-old. Her parents had been killed in a traffic accident that left her without a family. As she walked across the tarmac to board the plane, the tiny orphan reached up and slipped her hands into the hands of her new parents whom she had just met. Later they told us of this "birth" moment, how the innocent, fearless trust expressed in that physical act of grasping their hands seemed almost as miraculous as the times their two sons slipped out of the birth canal 15 and 13 years earlier.

That evening, back home in Arizona, they sat down to their first supper together with their new daughter. There was a platter of pork chops and a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. After the first serving, the two teenage boys kept refilling their plates. Soon the pork chops had disappeared and the potatoes were gone. Addie had never seen so much food on one table in her whole life. Her eyes were big as she watched her new brothers, Thatcher and Graham, satisfy their ravenous teenage appetites.

Fred and Cheryl noticed that Addie had become very quiet and realized that something was wrong—agitation … bewilderment … insecurity? Cheryl guessed that it was the disappearing food. She suspected that because Addie had grown up hungry, when food was gone from the table she might be thinking that it would be a day or more before there was more to eat. Cheryl had guessed right. She took Addie's hand and led her to the bread drawer and pulled it out, showing her a back-up of three loaves. She took her to the refrigerator, opened the door, and showed her the bottles of milk and orange juice, the fresh vegetables, jars of jelly and jam and peanut butter, a carton of eggs, and a package of bacon. She took her to the pantry with its bins of potatoes, onions, and squash, and the shelves of canned goods—tomatoes and peaches and pickles. She opened the freezer and showed Addie three or four chickens, a few packages of fish, and two cartons of ice cream. All the time she was reassuring Addie that there was lots of food in the house, that no matter how much Thatcher and Graham ate and how fast they ate it, there was a lot more where that came from. She would never go hungry again.

Cheryl didn't just tell her that she would never go hungry again. She showed her what was in those drawers and behind those doors, named the meats and vegetables, placed them in her hands. It was enough. Food was there, whether she could see it or not. Her brothers were no longer rivals at the table. She was home. She would never go hungry again.