Posting a snapshot of strong lesson after we brought Luke Aiden home from Ukraine 18 months ago...
We’d been home just ten days and the transition, while getting easier with each passing day, still brought challenges, especially when our precious son would have a moment of extreme defiance. This particular time was because we wouldn’t let him play with a CD player that belonged to his older sister. Moments before, he had been happily playing on his bike. When we explained as best as we could in a language he was just learning, that the player wasn’t something he could freely play with, he had a giant melt-down.
He screamed and attempted to break his toys. Of course, he was placed firmly but lovingly, in time-out. Then he began to hit himself, bite himself, beat his head against the wall, and twist his ear and his fingers until I was certain I would hear them break. Usually, I ignore the tantrums, but this time, he was going to hurt himself. I took a-hold of his little arms and spread them out as best as I could. He is so strong. I told him over and over again that I loved him; that Jesus loved him. He bit me. I prayed over him. I asked God to remove the darkness from his soul. He couldn’t understand my language. He didn’t understand that I was standing in the most glorious gap for his sake. I was before the Holy throne of God, desperately pleading the case for my wounded son. He was getting exhausted. So was I. I prayed and he screamed. I told him how much I love my little guy and he sunk his teeth into my arm, again. At this point, I thought it best to leave him alone. I closed the door to his room, walked into my office and my feeble knees gave way. I was exhausted and I buried my face into the carpet and pleaded with my God to heal my son’s wounds. I confessed that I didn’t think I could do this task that was before me. I confessed that I didn’t know if I even wanted to. I confessed that I desperately needed wisdom to walk this out. My heart ached for my son. In his pounding away at his own little body, I wanted to be the target. I wanted it to be my flesh that he wanted to destroy. I wanted to take it away and I could not. This was warfare and my battle would be one that I fight on my knees.
God sometimes speaks to me in a language that I cannot understand. I read his Word and I want to hear his voice over me. Yet, I cannot fully fathom this love; this pure love. I sometimes find myself thrashing in a fit of despair. The root of it is that I wanted my way and I don’t fully trust that God does what is most loving for me…always. Sometimes I desire things that would destroy me. I don’t physically thrust my own frustration back upon my body like my son, but I can lash out at someone I love when I am upset. I can act much like an orphan, instead of an adopted child who already sits in the position of having a rich inheritance in the Kingdom.
When I come to my senses, I come, running back to God, sometimes a little inhibited by my own shame, my own behavior. My son sometimes feels ashamed of his behavior and isn’t sure if it’s safe to come back to me after a fit of rage. Entering into my waiting arms is a vulnerable act. Vulnerability is necessary for brokenness but it requires trust. Trust is right now, the most difficult thing for my son. In my relationship with God, the hardest thing for me to do is often, to trust. The more my son allows himself to be broken, the more he will heal. Same for me; the more I am honest with what God already knows in my heart, the sooner it can be dealt with and the sooner I can enter back into his presence.
After another half hour of thrashing himself against his bed, he calmed down. I think he even fell asleep for a few minutes. Suddenly, he was calling out for mom; ready for reconnection. I firmly and gently tell him that he cannot bite and that he should not hurt himself. I fold him into my arms and tell him I love him. He buries himself deeper into my neck and says that he loves me. I know that his love for me is somewhat conditional. He doesn’t really understand what love is; or how to love. It’s like the discussion in the last chapter of John. Christ is asking Peter if he loves him and Peter isn’t quite capable of that agape love… yet. Through my doubt, defiance; through Peter’s doubting, God never let go. He stood in the most glorious gap for our sakes and gave his son – the tearing and thrashing of his precious son’s flesh, so that we would not feel the complete consequence of our sins. He offered us mercy and grace. He offered us a way to come back even though we have been defiant, selfish and vile…he made a way so that in our most transparent vulnerability, we long to be folded back into his arms.
Though warfare rages for the hearts of the fatherless; for all of us, God will never let go of me, nor remove his eyes from me or my precious son. His perfect love has closed the gap and someday, my son will come to understand that.
Our precious Luke Aiden is so far from this now and all praise goes to God for that! We are so blessed by our sweet little boy who has taught us more about the character of God than anyone!
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