Rest.

So, I sobbed at church tonight.  It was the kind of get-the-tissue, my-shoulders-are-shaking, I-couldn't-speak-even-if-I-wanted-to tearfest.  It was both embarrassing and really, really theraupeutic (as most cries are). 

The sermon was from Matthew 5, and the central message was the freedom that can be found at the cross.  In Matthew 5, Christ says that if we are not as righteous as the Pharisees, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.  That is disturbing news because we can never be as perfect as the Pharisees of Christ's day, who followed the 600+ commands of God with zeal.  Christ, however, was showing us that He brings a different righteousness; a righteousness that does not come from doing everything right on the outside, but that comes from resting in the work that Christ did on the cross.

And, then we had our church's first "altar call" in eight years.  Watching those who had been enslaved to sin in their lives publicly claim the cross and find freedom definitely put a little tear in my eye.  It is always remarkable, if not incredible, to see God at work, and in those moments, I am reminded of the freedom He has so graciously given me. 

Right when I was holding it all together, the words of one of my favorite hymns flashed on the screen-

"Weary, burdened wanderer,
There is rest for thee.
At the feet of Jesus,
With your love so free."

And that's when I lost it.  I don't always lose it on that song, but this week was different.

A few weeks ago, a little boy was delivered to the orphanage with which we work.   Apparently, he has no history and no family. He was a street kid, in an urban setting where street kids litter the city looking for food and shelter.  Suddenly, with those words, I was struck with the image of a city of kids trying to find food in a place where those who work find it difficult to eat; I was grieved by the image of children sleeping on streets night after night with no shelter or blanket or pillow; I lamented those kids who live constantly alert for protection of their own lives; and I mourned that they have no one to hold or comfort them. They have to be so weary, so burdened, so lost and void of hope. 

(*Just a caveat: In October, when we received our adoption paperwork, we learned that all of the information above was not true.  Our little boy did have a birth mother. Apparently, his father is deceased, and the mother is ill.  She had allowed him to go to an orphanage because she was not well enough to take care of him.  I leave the text above because (a) it reflected my emotions at the time, and (b) I am sure it is true of other children.  If you would like to see what happened with the birth mother, the posts in July '13 do a better job of explaining that information).

Two weeks ago, we heard from the organization with which we work.  The little street boy was being referred to our family.  The Lord brought him to that orphanage, and we get the incredible honor and duty of answering the question: "Do you want to give him rest?"

We have decided to answer that question with a peace-filled, open-handed, "Yes!"  We have some months of waiting ahead of us, and then some months of difficult transition for us all, but we can't wait to get him home.  To feed his belly, so it no longer knows hunger. To bathe his body, so that it can be free of disease.  To pillow his head, so that it can know a night of restful sleep.  To teach his mind, so that it can reach its full potential.

But, most importantly, we want to love this little boy unconditionally, so that He can see the free love lavished on Him by His Father and know Him deeply.

Thanks for following us on this journey.  We are hopeful that the Lord will bring this good work in us to completion.  And, we pray that if you are weary or burdened or wandering, may your soul find rest.