We Are All Adopted To Be Loved

by Eric Elkin

“just as God [he] chose us in Christ
before the foundation of the world
to be holy and blameless before him in love.”

— Ephesians 1:4

I am adopted. My adoption though stretches the commonly accepted understanding of the process. First, it happened well after my own children graduated from high school. Second, the family I was adopted into does not really have a functional set of parents. Nor are there any benefits to gain from it. At least, none that I didn’t already possess.

I am adopted. My adoption though stretches the commonly accepted understanding of the process. First, it happened well after my own children graduated from high school. Second, the family I was adopted into does not really have a functional set of parents. Nor are there any benefits to gain from it. At least, none that I didn’t already possess.

My adoption became formal this past Sunday as I began my life as an “appointed” Methodist pastor. Technically, I am still a “called” Lutheran, but few outside of the bishop’s office will understand what that means. For most people, if I tell them I am a Lutheran pastor serving a Methodist congregation, they will ask me when and why did I convert. So to save everyone the trouble, I am going with I’m a Lutheran adopted by Methodists.

Writing about my adoption, I realize few will understand what a big deal this is to me. It has very little to do with Jesus or the institutional church and everything to do with my identity. Since I was old enough to comprehend words, I have been told, “You are Lutheran and Norwegian.” Both of these carry significant meaning to me. Now that I have been adopted, I wonder, who am I now?

“If anybody understands God’s ardor for his children, it’s someone who has rescued an orphan from despair, for that is what God has done for us. God has adopted you. God sought you, found you, signed the papers, and took you home.”

— Max Lucado

Reflecting on this process draws my mind to those whose understanding of themselves has been changed by some traumatic life event. People who have lost a beloved spouse to death. The separation of death often leaves people searching for answers to their own identity as a widow or widower. It leaves the surviving person asking, “Who am I now?”

In one of the congregations I served, I met an amazing retired pastor. During my time there, his mind slowly gave way to dementia. The gentle, articulate leader of the faithful became angry, his words confused and distorted. His condition caused the community to grieve the living loss of this wonderful man. He was not the man they knew, but who was he now in his new condition?

Wounded souls hunger for adoption. They search for confirmation they will still be loved in this new state it finds itself in. Maybe that’s why these words from Ephesians sound so comforting, “[God] destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ.” This adoption is for the sole purpose of pouring out grace upon every heart, not just the wounded ones.

Saying, “I am adopted through Christ” is just like saying, “I am loved by God.” We are loved by God through adoption, even as we adapt to the world changing around us. It is not something we are waiting for since it happened before the foundation of the world. When the world was being formed, God was getting ready to love you. A beloved child of God is who I am, and so are you.

Click to read Ephesians 1: 3-14