A couple of hours ago I stood at the bottom of the escalators and I watched a family roll toward me. A full family. This is a family that has been fractured for years because two of their children have been stuck in Haiti, pending paperwork. A couple of months ago one of these sweet kids – Story – came home. But her brother couldn’t get there.
Around the time Story came home, I got to hear a song Aaron (her dad) wrote called “Amos Story”. In the chorus he brokenly calls out the words: ‘I’ve got to find a way to get you home’. And today, Amos came home. Amos is home.
Aaron is an amazing father. Jamie, his wife, is a phenomenal mother. Both of them have rolled up their sleeves, and crossed oceans and fought through all the tangled red tape to get this little boy on the escalator today. But their best attempts didn’t bring Amos home. They couldn’t get Amos home. No matter how hard they tried. Aaron wasn’t the one who ultimately found a way to get his little boy home.
God was. About a week ago He shook the earth, and while I don’t pretend His only intention was to bring Amos home, make no mistake – God shook the earth intending to bring that boy home. God’s sovereignty isn’t the kind of that looks on and hopes for an opportunity. God’s sovereignty is a full and firm foundation to every molecule and hidden desire. And my God did what Jamie and Aaron could not. And He did it so that we would see Him clearer through them.
And I do. I do see him clearer. And I’m sad I guess. Because watching 50+ people go crazy for an orphan brought home I suddenly realized how little I understand the love of God.
I know I don’t get it, because today when I watched that beautiful magnificent picture of reconciliation and restoration I was so overwhelmed and happy but weirdly sad and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
And then I realized. I realized that Amos has probably spent the last 2.5 years in as much agony as Jamie and Aaron and the rest of his brothers and sister. Because even though 2.5 years ago Amos was adopted and truly became their son, he wasn’t home yet.
And I feel so sad tonight because I’m not in agony.
My adoption is final, and I am truly His child now, and I am an heir to all the promises that brings. But the biggest promise is the one that Aaron made Amos: a promise from a father to bring his son home. But I don’t sit here in agony. I don’t cry out for a reunion with my Father. And maybe it’s because I have such full access to His spirit, (cause that would be super Godly), but I don’t think so. I think I just get a little distracted. Every now and then I remember that I’m His kid and He’s coming back for me, but mostly I think about this coming year and if I’m going to meet my goals, and what will happen at work next week or on the final season of lost.
So, I need a miracle. I need a new heart. I need a heart that believes that my Father has adopted me and that He is coming back for me. And I need a heart that fasts and longs and yearns for that day. I need a heart that is willing to do whatever I can to hasten that day.
And when I think about it now, He meets me with grace, and I get a little giddy. And I think about the audience of angels that will be there (like we were today at the bottom of the escalator). And I think about how crazy they’re gonna go when God gathers His kids from every tribe, tongue and nation and we get to be reunited in real and tangible bodies.
Come Lord Jesus. Come.