It is against sinful human nature to bless God, especially when we look around and see death and destruction surrounding us. I am far away from my country right now; I see the hatred and violence that is swelling in my society and I mourn for my people: I do not want to bless God. I am in a country that is currently at war; I see rejected old women begging on the streets, I hold children who have been abused and abandoned by their families and I mourn: I do not want to bless God. Every fiber of my sinful nature flings my faith in my face, you don’t need outsiders to challenge your faith, your own mind will turn to you and taunt with “where is your God now?”
This morning I awoke to more bad news. Yet another child had passed away while waiting for a family. The Reece’s Rainbow community was told “Cameron did not survive after being transferred to an institution.” He was 5 years old. His name is now listed on the quiet place. In the past month, 3 children in this country, the country where Angelina and Roman are from, have died. Two of them had families in process to adopt them.
With this news, the adoption community was rocked with waves of despair, hatred, anger, and sorrow. People railed against society, called the Church to judgement for not caring enough for the least of these, and, in darkest moments, cursed God in their hearts for not providing.
As I wrote about Angelina being transferred to a good orphanage, Cristoff was dying. When I told you about meeting our daughter, Judah was dying. While I wrote about God’s providence for Roman, Cameron was dying.
Today I went to Roman’s orphanage. On the long car ride out to the institution I was alone with my thought. I asked the same question people throughout history have asked, why, why did God allow this to happen? I took Roman outside to a shady part of the playground, and wondered why, why was I able to hold my son in my arms while another woman mourns the death of her son whom she never met. As I fed him applesauce, I asked why, why do these children live their entire lives in such horrific conditions. I rocked Roman’s little body while sitting outside on a beautiful day and questioned God. Soon the tempo of my gentle rocking called to mind this hymn.
As I sang through a lump in my throat and tears in my notes, God listened to my soul’s complaint. He silenced all my fears, he wiped away my tears, he calmed my troubled heart. Job in his suffering said “I know that my Redeemer lives.” long before Jesus was born of Mary. Today I sang “I know that my Redeemer lives” long since Jesus was born, died, rose again, and ascended into heaven.
God provides for his children, he cares for the sparrows and the lilies, how much more does he care for these fatherless children. I don’t know Crostoff, Judah, or Cameron’s stories, but I do know my heavenly Father. Have I not spent the past month sharing with you the grace he has poured out on Angelina and Roman? He provided for them long before we came. He gave them baptisms, angels, missionaries, he gave them the faith of a little child. He has taken these three boys from the veil of tears, he has conquered death that they might live an eternal life with Jesus complete as they never were on this earth.
Do I still mourn their short lives, yes. Should societies change to care for these children, yes. Should churches be called to provide for these children, yes. Should I withhold blessing God because these children died, never!
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.