The morning of the orphanage visit I had been reading Ephesians 3 and had never been so deeply moved by Paul’s encouragement to the church in Ephesus, as I was that day. Verses 17 through 19 reads, “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”
A love that surpasses knowledge is sometimes more than we want to accept. For me, it meant that no matter what answers I hoped to find in the orphanage, no amount of new knowledge would prompt love for God. We aren’t prompted to love because we’ve been given magical answers to life’s questions; we’re prompted by the Spirit to experience and understand the love of God. He gives us understanding and insight into the ways of Father God.
Abandonment in my vulnerable moment prevented me from trusting that God loved me, but my freedom was found in offering Him those vulnerable memories. I asked the same question that so many ask, “Why does God let me suffer?” It was the wrong question. It took a trip across the world to carve the questions out of my heart and replace them with deep compassion and love. Romans 8:17 became my heart song, “Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.” (ESV)
My suffering was real as was the glory found only in His presence.
Everything I knew about the love of Jesus became mine to claim, mine to believe. My striving, my wishing, my isolation was all replaced with a Savior accustomed to my grief, one who draws near to the brokenhearted. He knit me in my mother’s womb, held me at birth, carried me throughout the years, and set me free in the very place I believed He left me. Only God could do that. Only God could free me from the loveless prison I created for myself. No amount of willpower could ever produce the freedom hidden in the death and resurrection of Jesus. My freedom was unlocked by His love. His presence became the answer to every one of the countless questions I had asked over the years.
I may not have a clue how each of those darling babies will be cared for or where they will end up in life, but I do believe Christ is near in their brokenness; He will bind up their hearts, He will set them free. Jesus will love them with an everlasting love. He will be their father and mother, and He will be their Savior. They belong to Him. Of this I am sure.
He’s done it for me.
He can do it for all of us.
He will not leave us isolated. He will come for us.
Adapted from the book Never Alone: Exchanging Your Tender Hurts For God’s Healing Grace, Tiffany Bluhm, Ó 2018 by Abingdon Press. All rights reserved. Available wherever books are sold.