Nothing is quite like the spiritual high of obedience. Hearing God's call, seeing him move mountains and work miracles to bring your child home. Walking step by step with Him through one of the most precious commands in the Bible (James 1:27). He is real. He is there- you can feel him and hear him and the joy in that is overwhelming.
But after a spiritual high, we often face a valley. I am convinced that the valley is where God truly meets us. Where he refines and whittles our coal-like faith into something that resembles gold. This is where obedience meets suffering, and where sanctification is won.
I love adoption. I can't imagine a better example of God's redemptive love on the cross. But just as the cross required death, so too does adoption. And death is painful.
We've walked a beautifully broken road this past year with our sweet Zachary. At times it has felt so heavy- the burden of his past, the weight of his physical limitations, the lack of answers.
I've found myself dropped into a world filled with attachment issues, medical appointments, and disabilities. I've felt so unequipped to be here, in this foreign place. So much harder than two weeks in China is this vast wilderness of special needs parenting.
And yet, this is exactly where God has called us. And the lessons we've only just begun to learn are priceless.
Watching the way my Zachary has fought to survive has changed me. Everything is harder for him- everything! And yet he wakes up each day with a smile on his face. He persistently chases after his brother and sister, even though his awkward crawl leaves him in the dust. He painstakingly shovels food in his mouth with clenched fists, determined to eat regardless of the challenges. He faces the world with fresh optimism, despite the fact that he spent four years of his life in a metal crib looking out barred windows.
And so, it is hard. I've let myself wallow in the grief of his reality, in the complications of our new life. I've often failed to face the day with the joy and optimism that my faith calls me to. I've lost my way at times in this valley of exhaustion. I've let anxiety about the future stop me in my tracks.
But God has met me here. And he is walking with me step by step back up the mountain. I am determined to mine these rocks from the valley and raise them as stones of remembrance to the deep faith that's been forged here.
Yes, the mountaintop is high, you almost feel like you're touching heaven. But the valley is low, and its reward is beautiful, for Jesus himself said it is the humble who see God.
Let us be mindful of this gift of life and never waste it.
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