We Were Adopted

Today’s meditation starts with a lesson in political correctness.  You may find that, at least in this case, God wants us to be politically correct.

Okay, let’s begin.  It is incorrect to say “Miriam is adopted” or “Evan is adopted,” using the word “adopted” as an adjective to describe the child today.  It is correct to say “Miriam was adopted,” or “Evan was adopted,” using the word to describe the one-time event by which they entered the family. 

Why is this?  Once a child has been adopted into a family, even though that event will always be part of their history, part of their story, they should be forever treated with the same depth of love and commitment as biological children.  Yes, they were adopted; this is something that happened to them at one point in the past.  But today, they are children.  To use “adopted” as an adjective suggests that the event by which they came into the family forever marks them as different, lesser than other children in the family.

So… what does this lesson in politically correct adoption terminology have to do with us, with this table?  My little lesson is not just a personal hobby horse sparked by the nature of the family God has called Danielle and me to care for.  It is a reminder for all of us.  Everyone that Jesus calls to this table was adopted.  No one here comes to this table as someone who is owed something by God, by virtue of their biological origin.  All of us inherit the blessings of salvation by virtue of what Paul calls (in Romans and Galatians) adoption.

But now that we have been called to this table, now that we are part of the family of God, need we be reminded, over and over again, that we are somehow a second-class member of that family?  No.  We are not adopted sons and daughters.  We were adopted.  Today we are, by virtue of the sacrifice that this table represents, simply sons and daughters of God. 

No one is a second-class member of this family.  You have been called to this table, to this family.  With Paul and the rest of the body of Christ throughout space and time, you can call God the Father “Abba,” Daddy.  Partake of the elements today, keeping in mind the fact that your adoption was completed.  You belong here just as much as the rest of us.  Don’t forget that.

For this is what the Lord himself said, and I pass it on to you just as I received it. On the night when he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me."  In the same way, he took the cup of wine after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant between God and you, sealed by the shedding of my blood. Do this in remembrance of me as often as you drink it."  For every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are announcing the Lord's death (and the love of your “Abba” Daddy) until Jesus comes again.

Offering Meditation:
People sometimes ask us, “How much does adoption cost?”  The answer they’re looking for (and that we’re generally polite enough to give) includes numbers and a dollar sign.  The real answer is more complicated.  The birth family loses a child.  The child loses their birth family.  The adoptive parents (like all parents) lose some independence, probably some sleep, but also usually spend a fair amount of money.

But to make an adoption work, and work well, the members of the newly united family have to give even more.  They must devote themselves entirely to creating a family from this new combination of persons.  Anything short of that is likely to cause pain, dysfunction, and long-term damage to the people involved.

The body of Christ is like that.  Christ gave, and continues to give, His all.  But I’m not sure that anyone else really does.  But we should.  The Body of Christ is poorer if you’re not pouring your gifts—financial and otherwise—into it.  Here’s one more chance for you to do that.