dear orphan...

Dear orphan of yesterday,

I want you to know up front that this will not be easy to write.  However, being so proud of my decisions in the past, I want you to know the truth about me.

Many years ago, I lived in a world that revolved around me.  I was most important.  Don't get me wrong, I had God in my life, or a god in my life.  I went to church, all of the time.  I tithed, I gave out of what was left over, and I gave the god I served a very, very big part of my life.  I lived as life was relative, therefore I was giving god more leash than most.  I told myself that this was a good thing.

Several times I spent money and time on myself.  I remember one time in particular, I bought a luxury SUV.  I found a person selling one, with all possible options including the sweet 20" chrome wheels and upgraded paint, and I bought it, for $38,000.   I convinced myself that this was a good deal, as others like this were going for $45k.  While making this purchase, you were half way across the world, going to bed, without a mommy or daddy, without love, without food, and without hope.  I was okay with this though because as Thoreau once said, "Ignorance is bliss".  And it was bliss riding around in this car.  You would not believe me if I told you how many looks I got.  People treated me differently, and I treated them differently.  Life was good, because it was exactly as I wanted to perceive it.  I even remember asking God, or my god, to bless my decision of purchasing this vehicle as I would use it for him.  I am expected to care for my family, and I stood, aka, hid behind this ideology. 

It wasn't long after I made the purchase That I began to wonder of what the next car would be.  My selfish side has a Golden Corral size appetite.  So I fed it, all the while taking ample doses of Justification, the only antacid I have found to alleviate Selfishness.

From cars and houses, to vacations, the sense of enough became more and more elusive. All the while, you were still at the orphanage, waiting, wondering why in the world you were even made, if it was only to have you move from a negligent home, into a neglectful orphanage, surrounded, immersed in sadness, rage, and emptiness.

By my fifth vacation to Disney, you had been put out of the orphanage because you were now too old to ever be adopted. The person that could have adopted you, simply didn't.

Given only a backpack, you and the hunger for food gave into that first man that pulled up to you and told you that he could give you food and shelter for certain favors.  One thing lead to another and quickly you were moved into that multi-billion dollar industry.  

I know this, because I remember praying for you at a concert where they talked about this kind of slavery that you were in.  I prayed, and then kept singing, praising God, or god at that time, thanking Him for how blessed I am.  

Unlike me though, you were not okay with the direction your life had gone.  You didn't know who or what you were made for, but you are certain it wasn't this.  And so you took action.  Sadly, you were the only one to take action, and you ran to the closest Exit Door of your life.  You decided that if no one was going to love you the way something deep inside of you told you you were intended to be loved, something God had placed deep inside of you from long ago, then you would save yourself from further hurt. You told yourself that you would no longer, never again step into a strangers hotel room.  Never again. 

You stayed in that elevator, passing the 3rd floor you called just minutes prior, and went straight the the top.  You walked out of the elevator and walked out onto the roof.  You felt the last night time breeze you would ever feel on this earth.  It was always and only the breeze that ever came remotely close to touching you the way God ever intended for you to be touched.  You walked to the edge of the roof and within a moment, you joined the statistic that 15% of all orphans fall prey to. 

I was okay with that.  I am so sorry, but I was.  

My life was full, it was protected, comfortable, and barely had room for one more.  It didn't matter that I still had 3 more available seats in my car at that time, or that I had a huge basement, empty bedrooms, an extra dining room to be used once a year, or a music room, all of which god blessed "ME" with.  None of that mattered.  What mattered most was me.  What I wanted, when I wanted.  To serve god on my terms, in my way, ever wondering if I should tithe off of the net or gross.  That wicked heart is the heart of self, and has no part along side Paul as he sat in prison.  That heart has no place on the plane with Jim Elliot on that last day reaching the Aucus.  That heart has no place at the feet of Jesus, or on the daily alter of sacrifice because it doesn't really want to die, does it. 

 It says it wants to die, but in fact, it will do all it can to live.  

I failed you, and I am sorry.  What God had entrusted to me to help rescue you, I have lost and will never get it back.  The time, the money, the effort, the surrender, the life, I lost it all.

Forgive me.

God has made his plan for adoption so clear in Isaiah 1, James 1, and in Galatians.  

To think that he adopts me, but that I can't adopt another is absurd.  A selfish heart believes that it stops with me, and I will no longer believe that.  

To the orphans tonight, going to bed piled on top of each other with empty stomachs, and hopeless lives.  There is hope.  You are being loved and you are being pursued.  There is one who loved us before we knew Him and who is preparing for us. There are parents preparing for you right now.  With Christ through us, and before us, you are being pursued, and we love you.  You consume our thoughts and our hearts because you consume His thoughts and hearts.  

Dear orphan of the past, your lost life stays in my mind, driving me to pursue others.  It breaks my heart to know your story.   I am sorry I wasn't there.

Know that I will tell so many of your story, and of the adoptive heart of God.

I will tell how it doesn't end with us, but starts with us.

If I cannot hear "The sound of rain' long before the rain falls, and then go out to some hilltop of the Spirit, as near to my God as I can and have faith to wait there with my face between my knees, though six times or sixty times I am told "There is nothing', till at last there arises a little cloud out of the sea, then I know nothing of Calvary's love.

-Amy Carmichael

Jon Allen, Doulos