The word adoption appears only a few times in the Bible. Yet the concept of adoption, most would agree, is central to the Christian faith. Paul sets it out quite plainly in his letter to the Ephesians: "In love [God] predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves" (Eph. 1:4-6).

These verses became more meaningful to me when my wife and I adopted our daughter, Gina Soo, in the fall of 1996. Prior to deciding to adopt, we had spent four-plus years hoping to have biological children. Slowly but surely it became plain that it was not likely to happen, and we began to consider adoption. It seemed good, but it was hard not to be just a little doubtful, hard not to think of it as the consolation prize.

Until we received Gina. The instant she was placed in our arms, she was our daughter. Every doubt and every misgiving seemed to evaporate. Her weight in our arms said simply, "This is our child." And perhaps we understood a little more deeply that day God's love for us, his adopted children.

When we presented Gina for baptism, we did so with another couple who were also presenting their Korean daughter for baptism. Together the four of us read this litany of praise and thanks that I wrote for the occasion:

Two daughters, Lord, presented here for baptism,
Brought from afar and claimed, made part of our families,
Baptized once by our tears of joy,
       baptized today by your eternal seal,
Even as we once were claimed and made part
       of your covenant.
Your covenant, Lord: no Jew, no gentile, no east, no west,
       no distinctions of blood nor birth.
You simply say to all who will listen: Follow me. Believe.
       Know that I am God.
We praise you for that gift. And we praise you, God,
       for these gifts of grace, these daughters.
We pray that they may grow strong and true, servants of you.
And even as we pray for and praise you for these two,
       we remember the one, also sent by you,
The one who makes this seal possible, your Child, Lord,
       your Son,
Given to an undeserving world so that we might all be
       adopted as your covenant children.

Phil de Haan '84
Calvin administrator
Grand Rapids, Mich.

September 30 - "Restorers of the Soul"
Reading: Psalm 23

He restores my soul. (Psalm 23:3)

I don't remember how old I was when I first realized that, even if I was well blessed, the business of living would involve having my soul restored over and over, sometimes almost daily. You'd think I'd have soul restoration mastered by now, but it's something I seem to need again and again. It's happening again as I write this, at age forty-seven.

I think this is why Psalm 23 has such wide appeal—the simplicity of the path it draws, from still waters and green pastures, into paths of righteousness, through the very valley of the shadow of death, to a chair and table ready and waiting in the house of the Lord. It lets us start fresh, again and again—how many times?—from a place where God restores our souls.

As I write this, I'm on a commuter train, stopped. The conductor has just said, "We will be delayed here awhile. We've had a fatality." This announcement sends a shock through the train. We've hit a person on the tracks. Who? Why? I stop writing, shaken. Strangers look at each other, joined in some unknown sorrow. What sorrow? We don't even know who has died.

What is this valley of the shadow of death? It can't be just actual death; I think it's that life itself gets old. We get worn down. The thousandth time we face the same tedious task, a demanding child, an uncooperative coworker, life gets old. We go through the motions. We need to be restored.

But some people never get restored. They seem to die gradually, barely hanging on, technically alive but withering away. Other people--the ones I want to be like--exude love and vitality, playfulness, humor. As they age, they grow in wisdom and grace. They are the saints, the cloud of witnesses, the intimations of immortality.

Christians at peace with God, regardless of their sophistication, seem rooted in a few deep and simple truths like the deep and simple truths of Psalm 23. God leads us in paths of righteousness and restores our souls.

Peter Dykstra '74
Data-systems exectutive
Glen Rock, N.J.

February 14 - "On the Road with Jesus"

Jesus himself came up and walked along with them. (Luke 24:15)

For me, bad suspension makes for good meditation. The Number 2 bus I take every morning is loud and bumpy, and if I can, I sit in the back where it's loudest and bumpiest. It's the feeling of movement that I like. The physical movement helps my weak mind in the difficult task of trying to apprehend, through prayer and meditation, the spiritual movement in my life.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus would have understood. Less fortunate disciples had to stay behind, motionless in locked rooms, waiting for their risen Lord to come to them. How hard it must have been to sit and do nothing. How much better to be one of the disciples on the road, walking and talking and unknowingly entertaining their Lord. The message given those on the road was the same as that given to the disciples back behind closed doors: God's plan moves forward, relentlessly. But I think it takes less effort to believe that God is still moving the world when one can see and feel the world going by.

Riding on a bus is even better than walking like those disciples, I think, because I am not the one providing the locomotion. In the back seat I can sit perfectly still, close my eyes, do nothing at all to contribute to forward progress, and the sense of motion will still be there. I need to convince myself of this same thing about prayer, over and over. God is taking me where he would have me go, whether or not my own legs would be strong enough to take me there alone. The challenge of prayer is not to make the journey happen but only to try to perceive the forward motion.

Perhaps it is a weakness of faith not to be able to feel the journey's passing without visual aids. A hero of faith might certainly feel God's mighty wind blowing by, even indoors with the windows closed. But for me, Jesus, please agree to meet and talk as we go along.

Nathan D. Bos '91
Graduate student
Ann Arbor, Mich.

January 15 - "Faithful in Seattle"

It has given me great joy to find some of your children walking in the truth, just as the Father commanded us. (2 John 4)

When I was ordained a Presbyterian minister in 1990, I knew my work would sometimes feel like an uphill battle. I had been told Seattle was the country's most unchurched area. Many northwesterners say the place they go to worship God is the mountains, not the churches. That is why stories like those of Abby and Roger have meant so much to me.

About two years ago I noticed an unfamiliar young woman in church one Sunday. I introduced myself to her and noticed she had paint on her watchband and in her hair. She said she was a painter, an artist. A few weeks later she brought Roger to church, and before we knew it, they had taken the church by storm. Even though they knew none of the hymns, they joined the choir. Roger made birdhouses on poles for an auction. Abby painted one of the Sunday-school rooms to look like a temple so the children can be transported to ancient Israel when they hear Bible stories. They began to volunteer in our women's shelter. They attended every available adult-education class, asking probing questions about faith.

Before long they began to speak about getting married. I was struck with their single-minded intent to integrate their new-found faith into their wedding. Their friends, true Seattleites, were puzzled by this new and alien turn in Roger's and Abby's lives. The wedding became an occasion for the couple to publicly profess their faith and to share it with family and friends.

This is the first time an enthusiastic bride has asked whether ten hymns would be acceptable for the wedding service! After some discussion, we decided to stick with three. Instead of wedding gifts, the couple requested donations to Habitat for Humanity and food for the local food bank. By the beginning of the service, the church entrance was filled to overflowing with bags of gourmet packaged foods, and thousands of dollars had been collected. As Abby walked down the aisle, the choir was waiting for her at the chancel, singing through tears of joy, "Glory to God in the highest, peace to God's people on earth!"

Roger and Abby are striking testaments to the bountiful grace of God. They, and others like them, remind me and reassure us that God is faithful, even in Seattle.

Jane Plantinga Pauw '81
Pastor
Seattle, Wash.