While I have always had a burning passion for social justice (yes, I was “that” kid way back in the 5th grade), it wasn’t until the last four years—when the repercussions of social injustice were up close and personal in my own home after adopting six kids from Ethiopia—that my lifelong passion transformed into a zeal much like Jeremiah described in the Scriptures as “a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot” (Jeremiah 20:9). [Those of you who have ever followed my blogs or Facebook are probably nodding your head with gusto right about now and thinking that is the understatement of the year.]
Thanks in no small part to social media, the adoption community has grown rapidly over the last few years. The evolution of blogging, tweeting, and Facebooking has proven absolutely invaluable for the sake of the orphan, both in simple awareness and in fundraising. In turn, the adoption community has exploded online into a mighty force for the Kingdom as well as a unique support network for adoptive families. For all of the evils and annoyances of social media (and there are plenty), these are the things that make it worthwhile as a redemptive tool in the Kingdom.
During the last couple of years of watching this virtual adoption community increase exponentially, I have noticed that the collective passion has transformed into a collective zeal for the sake of the orphan. The Church, slowly but surely even if still with a long way to go, is awakening to God’s heart for the most vulnerable. THIS IS A GREAT THING and particularly refreshing for those of us who tend to feel like the social justice oddballs in the Church. I believe that God must be incredibly pleased with this awakening. In fact, since it is HIS movement in HIS Church for the sake of HIS children, I am sure of it.
While observing and cheering on this movement for the orphan, however—and particularly during extended quieted seasons when the Lord has asked me to turn inward and sanctify myself for Him—God has been gently showing me that we can very subtly pervert this miraculous movement of God into a ministry that misses both the point (serving Jesus) and the target (the lost world). We can very easily veer from the precipitating Person of our passion until we are no longer following Jesus into the world, but instead building a ministry to others as a cloak for making a name for ourselves—even amidst all of our so-called self-sacrificing. It is a fine line, yes, but one that distinguishes between serving our Savior because of His righteousness and serving our self-righteousness in the name of our Savior.
This is not a new danger for Christ’s followers, for it afflicts ancient and modern believers alike. Christ’s own disciples were scolded on more than one occasion for turning their commission from Christ into their own ministry, albeit all for the Kingdom, or so they were intending. After Jesus sent out the seventy-two to go two-by-two in His name throughout the region, Luke writes that they returned “with joy,” thrilled that “even the demons submit” to them (Luke 10:17). Jesus didn’t exactly holy-high-five them and express His prodigious pride in them for “getting it” (a phrase us adoption/orphan advocates use frequently when describing ourselves vs. those who haven’t jumped onboard the orphan bandwagon). Instead, Jesus reminds the seventy-two of Satan’s fall from Heaven (remember that ugly sin of pride?) and told them, “Whoa, slow down that kind of talk. Don’t go around jumping for joy that you’re some mighty Kingdom force. No, just be thankful that you’re Mine. Period…” (Luke 10:20, my translation). In other words, we are to “fix our eyes [only] on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith” (Hebrews 12:2, NIV). Seem simple?
It’s easy to look around and point out the idols of our surrounding Babylon, but it’s a bit trickier (and far less pleasurable) to reflect inward on our own hearts and honestly consider that we might ourselves have turned a gospel of redemption for the orphan into a platform for our own righteousness (and thus an idol). We can fall into the temptation to compare our own passion for justice for the poor with the “little” that others are doing, and suddenly we feel a little more than righteous. Remembering that “our acts of righteousness are filthy rags,” we ought to steer very clear of any such comparisons to others (Isaiah 64:6).
I often hear adoption and orphan advocates talking in terms of those who “get it” and those who don’t. On the surface, I understand, and I’ve been guilty of the same chatter (probably in the last 24 hours, if I’m guessing). But maybe, just maybe, in the midst of us “getting” this orphan thing down right, we’re not actually getting it. Maybe we—those of us who claim collectively to “get it”—are treading dangerously close to missing the point entirely. If we’re not extremely careful, we can pervert the “true religion” of James 1:27 into religious legalism, holding up a religious measuring stick by which we judge others who aren’t in our “camp.”(Does the label Pharisee scare anyone?) Let’s check out this parable together and refresh our collective memory:
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14, emphasis mine)
Ouch.
Would not the saddest irony be for believers in the orphan movement today to get “true religion” but become true religious Pharisees in the process? Church, let us be so cautious. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, not on ourselves or on others. Let us not pursue adoption or orphan care because it is the newest, trendiest stamp of righteousness in the Church. Let us not become advocates because so-and-so did and “has such a great story” and we want to be just like them. Or so that we can proudly wave our own banners and get some attention in the Kingdom. We serve but one Master, and “no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him” (John 13:16). As Jedd Medefind reminded us at Summit VII, we cannot truly reflect Jesus “if we aren’t hungry for Him and in love with HIM.” We will instead reflect our own selves and our own zeal from a dimly lit bulb, all the while foolishly screaming the self-righteous message “My light is brighter than yours.”
There is one Great Light of the world that we are to reflect. Church, it’s time to check our motives. What is fueling our passion for the orphan? Have we gotten off-target? Have we made an idol of adoption? Has our own passion become our precipitator? Have we begun to serve a cause instead of our Christ? Have we made “true religion” our own “little g” god? Don’t think that it’s not a possibility. Just ask the Pharisees. After all, they thought they “got it.”
If we truly want to impact our world, as I believe those involved in orphan care earnestly desire to purely do, let’s bow at Jesus’ feet and serve Him alone. In turn, the orphan gets rescued, the lost found, the imprisoned set free, and the abused redeemed, and Jesus alone will get the glory. Isn’t that what this is all about, anyway?
Praise Him. The Capital G God. Hallelujah forever.
