Several families in our church have given up their early empty-nest years to adopt middle schoolers from the foster system. They traded financial freedom and available time to take on children carrying significant trauma from difficult pasts. A decision like that is not made lightly. Adoption is a lifelong commitment. Now, why would anyone do something like that? The answer is simple. They did it because the gospel compelled them.
Christians need a great reason to walk the road of adoption. Adoption is joyful, but it is also hard. Elisabeth Elliot once wrote, “It is impossible to love deeply without sacrifice.” Anyone who steps into adoption will eventually discover the truth of that statement. When we adopt, we welcome children into our homes who often carry familial, relational, and medical brokenness. Cute pictures, sad stories, and heartbreaking statistics are not strong enough reasons to sustain a family through that journey.
Another tempting reason for adoption is also insufficient. If we are not careful, we can begin to adopt for God’s love rather than from it. That mistake creates serious problems.
We Do Not Adopt for God’s Love
First, adopting for God’s love is simply not the gospel. It may resemble religion, but it is not the gospel. The gospel is not an invitation to work hard enough to make ourselves acceptable to God. Scripture consistently teaches the opposite. Ephesians 2:8–9 could not be clearer. Salvation is by grace through faith in Christ alone.
Much of the New Testament was written to confront teachers who tried to add human effort to the finished work of Christ. Our salvation rests entirely on the life, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. When we place our faith in him, his righteousness is credited to us and our sin is covered by his sacrifice.
There are many versions of works-based righteousness in our world, and some are more obvious than others. Some people grow up in church hearing a message that sounds something like this: “Do the right things, avoid the wrong things, and God will accept you.” The list of “right things” here can change depending on the culture. Do not drink. Do not curse. Be generous. Be moral. Be helpful. Or even adopt children.
But that message turns the gospel upside down.
God did not accept us because we were acceptable. He accepts us because Jesus was acceptable and stepped into our place. We do not adopt in order to become spiritually adopted. We adopt because God has already adopted us.
Fear Is Not a Lasting Motivation
Adopting for God’s love also creates another serious problem. It easily produces a transactional relationship between parents and children. If we believe that our behavior determines whether God loves us, we will often treat others the same way.
Imagine an adopted child who constantly feels pressure to prove their value in order to remain in the family. They try to stay out of trouble. They work hard. They do the chores. They quietly hope that their performance will guarantee their acceptance. If you asked them why they worked so hard, they might say something like this: “I just want to make sure I stay in the family.” In other words, they are afraid of being rejected.
When obedience is driven by fear, it can produce outward conformity for a time. But fear cannot transform the heart. Think about a metal bar. If you apply enough pressure to it, you can bend it. But the moment that pressure is removed, the metal will snap right back into its former shape. Fear works the same way. Fear can force change temporarily, but it does not create lasting transformation. When the pressure disappears, the behavior often disappears with it.
That is why the gospel motivates us differently. God does not motivate his children by threatening to remove them from the family. Instead, he reminds us again and again of who we are. We belong. When children are secure in their identity as members of a family, they gradually grow to value what the family values. They learn obedience not out of fear, but out of love and belonging. Fear puts the fire under us. The gospel puts the fire in us.
And at the heart of the gospel is a sobering truth about the human condition. Before God rescued us, we were completely helpless to save ourselves. Scripture does not describe us as struggling swimmers who simply needed encouragement. It describes us as spiritually unable to rescue ourselves without God’s intervention. That reality changes how we see the world around us. And one experience our family had helped me feel that truth in a very personal way.
A Moment of Helplessness
Years ago, our family was camping in the mountains when the kids started playing in a shallow river near our campsite. The water was only ankle deep, and they were having a great time splashing around. Anna decided to take our adopted daughter, Faith Ann, out into the river with her. Faith Ann was about two years old at the time and could not walk yet. Anna stood on a rock in the middle of the river holding Faith Ann when suddenly we heard the sound of rushing water upstream. Over the course of about a minute, the calm stretch of water where the kids had been playing turned into a fast current nearly three feet deep.
Apparently, someone had opened a dam upstream in preparation for an incoming storm. I ran into the river as quickly as I could. By the time I reached them, Anna was braced against the current in waist-deep water, holding Faith Ann tightly. It took some effort to get both of them safely back to the bank. Afterward I asked Anna if she was okay. She said yes, but then she said something that stuck with me.
“I just felt so helpless.”
Helplessness is a powerful feeling.
The Story of Mephibosheth
If anyone embodied helplessness, it was a man named Mephibosheth in the Old Testament. Imagine living three thousand years ago in ancient Israel. Your family once ruled the kingdom, but now your grandfather and father are both dead. A new king sits on the throne, and that king is the very man your grandfather once tried to kill. To make matters worse, you have no wealth, no influence, and no protection. When you were five years old, you were injured and left crippled in both feet. You cannot walk. You are living in hiding.
In the ancient world, when a new king took power, it was common practice to eliminate any surviving members of the previous dynasty. Everyone would have expected David to destroy Saul’s remaining descendants. Instead, David did something extraordinary. Years earlier, he had made a promise to his friend Jonathan. Because of that promise, David went searching for anyone from the house of Saul. Not to punish them, but to show kindness.
From Mephibosheth’s perspective, the situation must have been terrifying. The new king had come to power, and you knew exactly what that usually meant. But you cannot run. You are helpless. Yet when Mephibosheth is brought before David, he does not receive judgment. He receives grace. David restores his inheritance. He gives him a place in the kingdom. And he invites him to eat at the king’s table for the rest of his life. Mephibosheth entered the palace as an outsider. From that moment forward, he was treated like one of the king’s sons. One commentator described this moment as a stunning icon of divine grace.
Carried to the King
Christians should deeply identify with Mephibosheth’s story. In our sin, we were enemies of the rightful king. We had no claim to a place in his kingdom. In fact, our condition was even worse than Mephibosheth’s. He was lame in his feet, but we were lame in our souls.
Ephesians 2 describes us as spiritually separated from God and cut off from his family. We were strangers to the promises given to God’s children. We could not walk our way back into his kingdom even if we wanted to. Someone had to carry us. Through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, God welcomed us into his family and gave us a seat at his table.
Grace That Moves Us Toward Others
When Christians reflect on what God has done for them, something begins to change inside their hearts. Gratitude grows, and gratitude naturally produces compassion.
Adoption is one of the clearest pictures of the gospel because it reflects what God has done for us. We were not part of the original family, yet we were given a place at the table. We could not approach God on our own, yet we were carried to him through grace. When believers grasp that reality, they begin to look differently at those who are on the outside.
Children waiting for adoption have much in common with Mephibosheth. They live on the margins of society, hoping someone will see them and move toward them in compassion. The gospel creates people who are willing to do exactly that.
In truth, we all spiritually resemble Mephibosheth, don’t we? What God has done for us should inspire us to do the same for others. Who in your life needs a place in your family and at your table? Their story is not unlike our own. When we think of children in need of adoption, we should see ourselves in them. We should see our biological children in them. What God did for us provides the motivation for adoption.
Andrew Hopper
Want to Go Deeper? If this theme stirs something in you, we’d love for you to explore more in Pastor Andrew’s book Chosen: Building Families the Way God Builds His. You can purchase it here, or click here to learn more and download a free chapter.
