Read Time: 4 minutes

The icy wind rushed through the downtown corridors with a vengeance that January morning. It was expected weather for Minnesota, but it was brutal for Texas. I wasn’t made for this cold anymore, although, truth be told, I was never built for it even when I called Minnesota home.

Days like this demanded staying indoors not braving the streets of the city.

Normally, I would search for a reason to do just that. But today was too important a day to allow the temperature to keep me from where I needed to be. I tucked my head into the shelter of the scarf I wore as I motored across the street and hurried through the door of the courthouse.

Nearly two years had passed since Carter had arrived early one morning to my brother’s house, and he had become a part of my life. Now the day I had hoped for was happening. Today the judge would change his last name to match my own, and Carter would legally be my nephew.

One of my favorite days.

I thought of that memory, as I watched my nephew, now 10 years old, race up and down the basketball court. Eight years have passed by in a blink, but what I have learned of adoption remains untarnished.

Animal Sounds, Mispronounced Names, and Conversations

Our strong bond did not take long to form. I would say, it all began with mimicking the sounds of animals. I would rehearse with him the animals and sounds he had learned, which always seemed to be expanding. Our game finished with the sound a pig makes, and at that point we both scrunched up our noses and snorted.

We surely looked ridiculous. Me, for sure, being the grown adult, but the game amused me. I challenge you to watch a baby oink like a pig and not crack a smile.

Soon, Carter scrunched up his nose as soon as he started crawling toward me, already anticipating our daily game. When the day came for his church dedication, Carter noticed me in the audience. At once, his face contorted into that of a snorting pig. 

Sure, I wished he had called out my name instead of associating me with a pig. Even a wave would have sufficed. I beamed with pride just the same. He knew me.

Eventually, he put away the pig face, and started attempting my name. It came out a bit rocky at first. The beginnings sounded a whole lot like “Doo Doo,” but when it got to where it needed to be, you couldn’t find a prouder uncle.

As his vocabulary grew, he’d come sit, cross-legged, on my bed talking at length about his day or informing me of all the names and functions of construction equipment. In the early mornings, Carter enjoyed packing my lunch for work and criticizing my tie choices while asking how many more days of work I had left before I could stay home.

Sure, I wished he had called out my name instead of associating me with a pig. I beamed with pride just the same. He knew me.

What mattered most to him was spending time by my side, even if the task was mundane. And that time mattered the most to me too. 

I couldn’t leave the house without answering his barrage of questions: “Where are you going,” “Who’s taking you,” “How long will you be gone?”

And as much as I’d tease him of being my parole officer, I was glad of the attention.

I relished the value he returned to me, for I, certainly, held that same value of him. But as much as I was influencing and teaching my nephew, he deepened my understanding of my spiritual adoption.

Understanding the Significance of Adoption

Before Carter’s adoption, I didn’t understand the full weight of adoption. It’s a rich word and experiencing the growing bond with Carter revealed it to me. I saw that adoption was more than just a transfer from one family to another.

The Bible describes believers as having been adopted by God. The Apostle Paul said God “predestined us for adoption in Jesus” (Eph. 1:5). God had set his love and his mind on bringing me into his family before the world was even created (Eph 1:4), and as amazing as that is, there’s more…

When God called me to himself, I belonged somewhere else, to another family. In that family, I was in slavery, even though I didn’t perceive it as captivity. But sin, indeed, had me ensnared and blind, until Jesus spoke my name and brought me to a new home.

He gave me a new name, a new spirit. “For you have not received a spirit of slavery…but you have received a spirit of adoption…” (Rom. 5:8). And that former life no longer fit in this new life. I could never return to the old; I belonged to him.

But adoption contains even more…

Being adopted means full fellowship with God. His divine power has brought me into his family where I share fellowship with God (2 Peter 1:4). His adoption ushers me into his presence where I share all he is and all he has (John 17:21, Romans 8:32).

That is what Carter taught me about the beauty of adoption: the bond of fellowship that naturally follows it. The bond between uncle and nephew started with mimicking animal noises and progressed to full-on conversation and attachment, and the relationship only strengthened over time.

Carter grew in his reliance that I was an uncle that would always receive him. He shared with me his time and interests, and the more he did, the more confident he became in seeking me out.

Carter bore no shame in crashing my room, sit on my bed, and launch into a diatribe about Super Mario– or to set up his toys just so he can play in my presence. He knows when he comes into my space, he will be welcome. He will never be cast away.

That speaks powerfully to what it means to be adopted by God and to be his child. You have full, unrestricted access like any other child. You are welcome to “intrude.”

Disability has a way of convincing me I don’t belong. And understanding God’s adoption of me squashes that lie. God determined to bring me into his family. I didn’t belong before, but that isn’t the way it is anymore.

God made me fit. He did all the work, and his work is never shoddy. I have full confidence to come near because he has made me his.

God determined to bring me into his family. I didn’t belong before, but that isn’t the way it is anymore.

How to love God

Sometimes at church, Carter likes to come across the aisle to stand beside me in worship. One particular morning, I reflected on the sermon which focused on just how much God had done for me. The gratitude I felt led me to wonder how I could love God more.

While I sat praying about it, the worship team started their closing, reflective song. Carter jumped the aisle to come stand beside me, ducking himself beneath my arm.

And it dawned on me, without requiring words.

This was how I showed my love for God. I drew close to him, anxious to just be near him. Like Mary, who found her spot in front of Jesus and soaked up everything he had to say, I needed to live like being in his presence was the best place to be.

Because it is. No matter the sorrow in my heart, hearing his words grants me the perseverance to keep going. It quickens me to trust and rest in him. And his words rally me to be a part of his work.

No matter the sorrow in my heart, hearing his words grants me perseverance, quickens me to trust and rest, and rallies me to be a part of his work.

God used a small boy to remind my heart of that. He used my nephew to show me the beauty of all that being adopted by God meant.

Thank you, Carter, for teaching me this.

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