I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned,
In awe of the One Who gave it all.
I'll stand, my soul Lord to You surrendered.
All I am is Yours
In awe of the One Who gave it all.
I'll stand, my soul Lord to You surrendered.
All I am is Yours
~The Stand, Michael W. Smith
These past weeks I have been silent. I haven’t had the words to convey what has
been happening in our lives. I still
don’t completely. As far as Rose’s
adoption process itself goes, things are moving along just as they should. We are getting the necessary approvals at
each stage, without complication, and are entering the very last steps of the
process. We are now waiting for the official Travel Approval--which means we have successfully completed the two governments' obstacle courses, jumped through every hoop, have been told, "Yes, you may adopt Rose," and are now waiting to be told, "Yes, you may now actually go get Rose!" It is looking like travel will
be mid-late October. Each letter of
approval, or notice of forward movement has brought such joy to our family. Knowing that we are one step closer to Rose no longer being an orphan, no longer spending her days isolated in a white crib, and one step closer to the rest of her life, the rest of our life, has been such welcome encouragement. They have been like buoys thrown out to us as
we tread some very tumultuous waters, with waves crashing all around us.
These past weeks and months have been a roller coaster of
emotions, experiences, losses, and blessings.
Over the years, we have watched other adoptive families endure similar
roller coasters as they fight their way to their children—hard fought battles,
leaving their spirits bruised and bloodied.
I have watched in awe of their steadfast faith, perseverance, and
strength as their lives take one hit after another—financial, physical,
relational, spiritual, you name it. I
have wondered if I would have the strength to endure such battles, or if I
would succumb to the fear and doubt and suffering. Over the past six months, every single shred
of our lives has come under fire.
Every. Single. Part.
Health, finances, relationships, our faith, our home, our marriage, our
future. Nothing has been left
untouched. We basically painted a huge
flashing bullseye on our life when we committed to adopting Rose. And it’s been a steady onslaught of attacks
ever since. We have known that this kind
of adoption is a threat to the schemes of our enemy. We have experienced that first hand when we
adopted Alex six years ago. We were completely
blindsided by it then. And though we
never could have predicted what the battlefield would look like this time, at
least we knew to be on the lookout. To
be ready with eyes of discernment, spirits willing to be molded, and most
importantly flesh willing to die. It is
on the battlefields surrounding these two adoptions where I have learned to
die, and then (and only then) learned to stand.
We must die before we can live.
We must let go before we can move forward with resolve, and steadfast
faith and perseverance.
Over the course of my life, I have stood by and watched as death
has come to almost every single thing in my life that I have treasured, in one
way or another. Things that are
good. Home, family, commitment,
marriage, secure provisions for my children, wide open spaces, a place to offer
help and hope and comfort to people in need.
Those aren’t bad things. They are
not the pursuit of wealth, nor riches, nor power, nor glory, nor fame, nor
self-indulgence. They are good and noble
things. Yet death has pursued them at
every turn. I have lived always
preparing for the worst, because the worst has become a reality, over and over
again. Always waiting for the other shoe
to fall, always knowing that it was just a matter of time before it would. I have been told that there is a desperation
about me. And it is true. I have lived with a desperate fear of loss. I have relied upon man, including myself,
instead of my Father. I have placed
God’s treasures in the hands of frail humanity.
I have been desperate for someone or something that I could trust;
desperate for the approval of others, to ensure they would not turn their backs
on me; desperate for some sense of safety and security; desperate to avoid further
death. As this battle intensified, and
death crept closer and closer once again, my eyes were opened and I was given a
different perspective, or viewpoint, of the battlefield.
I have come to a place of realization, or acceptance rather,
of the fact that there is but One source of security, safety, trust, hope, and
Life—God. Security cannot be found in
man, nor earth, nor money, nor land, nor dreams, no matter how noble they may
be. It can only be found in Christ. And it can only be found in Christ once we
have died to all our human, fleshly clutches.
In the Kingdom of God, death must come before Life, not the other way around. We must be broken and shattered, brought to our
knees, before we can stand. During these
weeks of silence, I have been broken.
Much has been shattered. I have
been dying. Death is painful, and hard,
and scary. It’s excruciating. It’s the cross. It’s where we are tempted to say, “Father,
why hast Thou forsaken me?” It’s where
we come face to face with our own depravity, and realize that we are not worthy
of the tiniest grain of sand, and must say, “Father, forgive me for my sins.” It’s where we come face to face with all our
fears, with all our wounds and betrayals and suffering. It’s where we must say, “Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do.” But it’s also where come face to face with
our Savior, where we receive Life everlasting, Mercy, Forgiveness, and Grace. It’s where we meet our Father, and He says,
“You are Mine, My child.” On the cross,
everything that can be shaken must be shaken.
And that which remains is none but Christ in us. Alive.
Standing strong in victory.
So now, after much death, I can stand in Life renewed. Though it appears on the outside that much
has been shattered, I stand with the hope, “that
when anything that’s shattered is laid before the Lord, just watch and see, these
are places where Grace is soon to be amazing.” I am walking the path that has been laid out
before me since before God knit me in my mother’s womb. I am moving in the direction that God has
been leading me for as long as I can remember.
But I could not follow Him into His Kingdom purposes, if I didn’t first
lay down my own kingdoms, die to my own selfish ambitions, doubts, fears, and
desperate attempts to protect myself. After
much has been shaken—and I say much, because I know not everything has been shaken
yet, death is a lifelong process—there is now a bit more room for Christ to
stand within me; for me to grow into the fullness of my identity in Him. It is time for me to stand without being
tossed to and froe by the winds of humanity and its waves of emotion. It is time for me to stand, not on my own
merit, but on the victory of Jesus Christ and with the strength of His Holy
Spirit. It is time for me to stand in
unwavering trust in my Father.
I am sharing my story now, because it points to God’s
infinite power to redeem even the most broken, most excruciating parts of our
lives. It points to the reality that each
and every trial we face is an opportunity for us to let go of another piece of
our sinful nature, and grow that much closer to God. I know there are so many of you facing trials
much harder than I can even conceive of.
But I also know that your pain and suffering will not be unredeemed if you
bring it to the cross, and lay it down at the feet of Jesus. He will meet you there. Every single time. He will not forsake you. He has not forsaken me. In the darkest hours of this battle, as I
cried out to the Lord, I reached out for prayers and support from a community
of fellow believers and adoptive parents.
Their response was breathtaking. So
many words of encouragement, understanding, and pin-point accurate prayers. So many voices saying that they have been
there, and that it’s hard, so so hard, but it’s SO SO worth it! Voices encouraging us that we will be able to
put back together all that falls apart during this battle, and find new order
along the way—the right order. Prayers
for restoration, strength, and peace.
Prayers from people who are in the midst of their own battles, right
now, as we speak. Their stories served
as further reminders that God does not forsake us when we meet Him at the cross. He will bring us new Life, more amazing than
anything we have lost in the battle. He
will guide our steps, as we brave the roaring seas—as we choose to get out of
the boat, and follow Him out onto the
water. How amazing it is that He is so
faithful, so good, so trustworthy, that we can stand and praise Him IN the storm—not just after the storm
passes!
We are shattered,
Lord. We are broken. We lay down our own kingdoms—our hopes and
dreams, our frail attempts to make life work, our ways and our visions—we lay
them before You, and press on with the hope of everlasting Life in Your
Kingdom. We pray for Your mercy, though
undeserved it most certainly is. We pray
for Your grace upon our family, especially our children. You have always been faithful to bring new
life and restoration to all that has passed away in our lives. When this battle comes to an end, we don’t
know where we will be standing, nor what our world will look like. But we do know that we will be standing, our
arms lifted high and hearts abandoned. We
will stand in awe of the One Who gave it all—Who suffered betrayal, bore our
sins, and died so that we might live. We
will stand, our souls, Lord, to You surrendered. All we have is Yours. Rose is Yours. The physical adoption process is long and
complicated, tangled up in bureaucracy, greed, and SO MUCH PAPERWORK! But in Your Kingdom, Rose’s adoption has
already been fulfilled. There is no
price too high to pay for a child’s life.
That is what You showed us on the cross.
We press on in this battle for our daughter, standing on the victory
that has already been won. We embrace
the death that must occur on this battlefield, and we receive the life You have
for us as a result of Your shed blood. This battle has been widespread, and many have endured great suffering. We pray for Your mercy on each of us, and we pray for Your work here to be accomplished in its fullness. Then we will stand and say, with great thanksgiving, "It is done." In
Christ’s name we pray, Amen.
With much Love,
Ashley
