As a horticulture enthusiast, when I visit a nursery and buy a plant for my home, I am essentially behaving like a new pet owner. I will adopt a certain variety, add a pot, select fortified soil, purchase plant food, and so forth, just as I would for a new puppy albeit with puppies I would select food, pet beds, collars, etc.
Lovingly, I will place my newfound friend, and responsibility, at a location that seems best for growth. Everything has an aura of invitation, inclusion, and interpersonal relationship. It is a “Welcome to the family” moment.
Each of us, has a God-given adoption mentality. We may adopt an old car and painstakingly restore it. We choose to collect Disney items and craft a legacy showcase. We have aquariums, birds, and hamsters among us because we need to nurture, to provide for, and to invest in our curious critters. Countless torturous commercials show us the plight of the unwanted animal, and we respond because something deep down tells us we must.
These acts of benevolence are not limited to restoration, preservation, or prevention from harm. Many venture further into mitigation. For example, our zeal includes children’s hospitals that remedy disease, we give to foundations that provide ongoing educational opportunities to the underserved, and we gift resources to ensure a lasting potable water solution to the two billion people worldwide without clean water. Even facing the consistent examples of grifters who take advantage of our kindheartedness, we do not grow weary.
In combating these ever-creeping feelings of being scammed or betrayed, we need a strategy as there is a limit to what each can do. We still have an adoption mentality but are often unsure where the stops are at.
In Jesus’ longest sermon and in correcting a view that we should not expect greater justice than we deserve, he teaches that we should have an affinity to be even more charitable. He says, “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.”
This is not an injunction to unreservedly give to the drunkard or addict, but rather a willingness to give that which is needed in hopes of beauty returning. We go beyond forgiveness or pity or minimal assistance, to rescue, recuperation, and restoration.
A friend asked me to doctor-up a sick Peace Lily. I agreed and gave it a name, Willow, which means both loss and hope. After months together, Willow is ready to go home. Hope has returned.
When a person says to me, “Why does God allow for suffering?” I remind them of the adoptive and rescuing nature that we possess as humans.
Yes, life is hard. Rather than die in our sad condition, God does what most of us do; we adopt. And just like the patience and nurture it takes to care for a houseplant, God shows his sacrificial care for us, too.
I don’t know about you, but I can live with that kind of adoption.
Kent Simmons is the pastor of Canyon Community Church in Kingman, AZ.
