God changed me

I wrote the following for a sermon on Acts 4:13-22 on Sunday, November 19 at City Church Sacramento. A few people asked me how it was to see our boys for the first time in eight months. I think this captures it better than me trying to explain it over and again. I honestly felt like I went on some spiritual retreat and got saved by Jesus … it was truly that powerful. You can listen here to hear what actually came out of my mouth during the message, but below was the intended transcript.

Saturday was one of the most exhausting days of my life and as I traveled home, I told my wife, “I need to finish this sermon I’m writing.” She responded with, “Um, today you lived a sermon & I think it just wrote itself.” I still don’t understand what that meant, but my response was, “but the text was given to me.”

So I finished writing this message – I only had a little bit left. A‌s God so often does, what I learned from the text was a combination of things I completely failed at, needed to learn, was afraid about the outcome, and ultimately saw God’s hand in. If the text says, “we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard,” I guess I need to do the same. That’s all I want to talk about for the remainder of this time—if I can, because it’s so emotional.

As many of you know, we had foster boys for two years who we lost suddenly back in March. It has been quite a season of reflection since then, even producing a book that my wife is now reading before I send out to others for editing. It’s about foster care. I honestly never thought we’d see the boys again; the court told us we needed to wait 6 months before contacting the family. Long-story short, we saw them yesterday.‌

Wow, they’ve changed. And yet they’re still our little guys. For the worse visibly. But some of the things we instilled in them is still there.

I asked a few dear friends to pray for me this week. I just kept crying every time I went to think about seeing them. I told people I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to. I knew I’d just tear up and need to excuse myself repeatedly. My kids were telling me later how I was pacing while we waited for them to show up at the meet up spot.

They came running to me and I hugged them for a while, but no tears. The kids played and we talked with the mom and dad for well over an hour. No tears. By God’s grace I was able to get through the time without excusing myself even once!

Their parents aren’t like us at all. Yet, I love them. I want the best for them. And I’m genuinely happy for them because I know they want to parent their boys. They might not know how, but they do want what’s best for their boys. As a parent, it’s hard to discern between what’s best for your kids and what your kids want. And it’s harder still to hold the line.

As we drove to lunch, all I could reflect on was just how grateful I was that these parents would allow us to be part of their boys’ lives. Tears were present as we drove to lunch, but calm again as we took up a couple tables at the fast food joint we decided on. After we went to lunch, they suggested we bring the boys home for the afternoon! Mom and dad were super willing to allow us to be in the boys’ lives. Yet, I was more focused on being grateful to them than even focused on the boys.

We brought them home and it was insane. We had them for just over two hours and we were all exhausted when all was said & done. How did we do two years of this?

Our daughter Katey made dinner for everyone and we sat down together, some having just gotten to the table and some having dug in for a few minutes. After everyone arrived, we heard from one of the boys, “Ummmm … “ followed by a closing of hands. “Aren’t we forgetting something?” The rhythm of praying before eating stuck. Sitting down back at our table made him revisit the discipline he certainly neglected while back home. And this was from a kid who screamed every time we would pray for the first few months we had him!

I hadn’t yet teared up in front of them, but that was a moment I couldn’t help but do so.

While we drove them home the 11 miles, Sherry and I dealt with the chaos in the back seat, but on the way home, we really sensed a call to this family. We went into foster care to help kids. I had no desire to help the bio parents. Sympathy for them, yes, but minister to them? No. The idea was Christian and all, but I had no desire, nor known capability.

But God …

… in His ability to love everyone in this situation, has changed my heart. He didn’t just get me through yesterday, but he’s built the strength, desire, and opportunity to do this new thing. God has changed our calling to kids in abusive situations to the ones from whom the kids were taken.

We want to love this family, but we ultimately want to bring Jesus to them. We’ve begun to look for a church near them where folks who look like them might feel welcome and pick up the boys every Sunday morning and bring them there.

I can’t not share what God has done in me. He’s changed me from a person who was mad at these parents to wanting to parent them in their parenting and be intentional to them in ways that 24 hours ago I had no desire to do so. I wanted to want that because it’s “Christianly” but I didn’t want it. I am changed.

God changes bodies, like this man in the text. But more powerfully, God changes hearts. And it’s not a one-time thing. It doesn’t stop.

I’ve been a Christian for about 30 years & I find myself bornagainagainandagain… God puts a new heart in me & takes my heart of stone and turns it into a heart of life over and again. This might be the most radical transformation in the last six months or so.