Sunday, November 8, 2015

He is a good, good Father

Last night, we went to the Saturday night service at our church. Samuel wanted to go to "Big Church" with me and James, so we agreed to let him join us. I held him during some of the worship service so he could see the band.  One of the songs that our worship pastor lead us in was "Good, Good Father."
Here are some of the words if you're not familiar with the song:

You're a good good Father. It's who You are, it's who You are, it's who You are
And I'm loved by You It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

As I stood there, singing with Samuel in my arms, I smiled with gratitude. There was a season in our adoption story when I was so grief stricken that trying to sing that song would have sucked the air out of my lungs and left tears streaming down my face.  Doubt. doubt. doubt. It didn't feel like He was a good Father. I didn't feel like I was loved by Him. "I do believe; help my unbelief!" from Mark 9:24 became the cry of my heart.

And now, He has blessed us with the children we longed for.

This popped up in my Facebook memories last night.

I looked at the date, and my mind went back to the tragic news that we had recieved a few days prior. The little Ethiopian babe that we had longed to bring home, was going to be leaving the world soon. Her health was utterly failing. She left this world just after Thanksgiving, only a few weeks later.  My heart was crushed that Sunday, five years ago. I remember praying and weeping with two of our pastors after church. One of whom was an adoptee himself and the other an adoptive father. I remember wondering where God was.  I was grateful -and still am- for the body of Christ who grieved with us, and prayed for us - especially when I had no words to pray. One of the pastors who prayed with us that Sunday was Stephen Miller. (If you aren't familiar with his music, go check it out. It is gospel saturated.) He shared a quote on Facebook yesterday from Spurgeon's Morning and Evening that tied in well with what I had been remembering.

"Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands."
Isaiah 49:16

What can be more astounding than the unfounded doubts and fears of God's favoured people? The Lord's loving word of rebuke should make us blush; he cries, "How can I have forgotten thee, when I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands? How darest thou doubt my constant remembrance, when the memorial is set upon my very flesh?" O unbelief, how strange a marvel thou art! We know not which most to wonder at, the faithfulness of God or the unbelief of his people. He keeps his promise a thousand times, and yet the next trial makes us doubt him. He never faileth . . . and yet we are as continually vexed with anxieties, molested with suspicions, and disturbed with fears, as if our God were the mirage of the desert.  Heaven and earth may well be astonished that rebels should obtain so great a nearness to the heart of infinite love as to be written upon the palms of his hands. "I have graven thee." It does not say, "Thy name." The name is there, but that is not all: "I have graven thee." See the fullness of this! I have graven thy person, thine image, thy case, thy circumstances, thy sins, thy temptations, thy weaknesses, thy wants, thy works; I have graven thee, everything about thee, all that concerns thee; I have put thee altogether there. Wilt thou ever say again that thy God hath forsaken thee when he has graven thee upon his own palms?
In the midst of sorrow, grief, and loss our hope lies in the Risen One who bears the wounds that were necessary us to be adopted into the family of God. He is ever with the rebels that he redeemed. His ear ever listen to our prayers and pleas. He is always faithful to the ones He spilled His life for.


  1. Tears are in my eyes as I read and relived the journey to parenthood you and James traveled. Harold and I give thanks for our grandchildren every day. Miracles from God, each one.

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