I realize how conditioned we are as middle-class Americans to take action, overcome obstacles, and get what we want. We feel entitled to the fulfillment of our desires. We presume that things should go our way, quickly and smoothly. If that does not happen, we usually think that with enough money or time we can conquer any problem.
The "where there's a will, there's a way" mindset is entrenched in our culture. . . Our language reveals how we cherish control and self-help: We try to "take control" of parts of our lives in which we feel "out of control." People "pull themselves up by their bootstraps." More than once, I have had salesmen at the door tell me that the Bible says "God helps those who help themselves." (It doesn't.)
Our feeling of control vanishes at times, those shattering moments that become markers in our lives. A longed-for pregnancy ends in miscarriage. A Loved one is diagnosed with terminal illness. But even then we grasp as much control as possible. We read books, become experts, make sure we obtain the best medical care possible, try alternative therapies, ask lots of questions, and, if not satisfied, find someone else to help us. For every crisis, there are books and websites promising that you can will and work your way out of your problems and into your desires.
Many of us would be frustrated, and likely even appalled, if we lived in close proximity with those from a more fatalistic culture. They meet difficulties differently, sometimes perceiving their hardships as the will of God, which should not be changed by manipulation. We would cry out that they should do something: Work hard, talk to people, rebuild, re-try - something, but not just passive acceptance.
The Bible does tell us to work and to persevere - but with effort that is built on a bedrock of reliance of God. Instead our faith is often laid on sands of self-sufficiency. We approach our problems with some prayer, but really we're thinking we can do a lot to fix them ourselves. Now waiting for Lilibeth and Eddie* our hands are tied. There is nothing we can do, so our faith and hope must be in God alone.
We wring our helpless hands as Lilibeth and Eddie get older each week. We long to bring them home like nothing we have longed for before. And we cannot make it happen. Money, time, connections are useless. Neither pushiness nor kindness, neither phone calls nor e-mails, neither influential politicians nor the best adoption agencies, nothing but God himself can move these babies from the orphanage in Guatemala to our home in Wisconsin. Their lives and ours are in the hands of a cadre of bureaucrats in a different part of the world. Our culturally conditioned expectation of getting our way has been smashed.
So I struggle against my sense of entitlement, my expectation that everything must go my way, my raging disappointment when I cannot do anything more to get what I want. And there may be other battles going on as well. . . There are sometimes spiritual battles being waged under the surface of paperwork and diplomacy, conflicts incited when there is an attempt to move children from orphanages to Christian homes. . . "our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Eph 6:12). In the military language of that passage, we are to "stand firm," wearing the spiritual armor of truth, righteousness, faith, and prayer. We do not know all that is happening in the hidden fields of this battle. But whether I am fighting against my own self-centered presumption or against spiritual forces in Guatemala, I find that standing is hard work, when I want to run in and do something.
But when I try to run, I hit a brick wall. It must be good for me to see my complete lack of control. Prevented from doing anything else, I can only try to stand in faith, try to learn how to "be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power" (Eph 6:10). God is weaning me from dependence on my manmade tools and training me to use his weapons.
Where there's a will . . . we stand and wait.
From Carried Safely Home by Kristin Swick Wong
*names changed to fit our situation.
I would add that it is an amazing comfort to know that their lives and ours are ultimately in the hands of the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe, who is infinitely more powerful than any cadre of bureaucrats this world has.
Sarah, I just re-read this post while listening to "Lord of Eternity" by Fernando Ortega. Talk about powerful!! We, too, have been struggling with the wait for kids, and we wanted to know you are in our prayers. No doubt there are battles in the heavenlies for our kids, but our God reigns! Love, Devon
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