It’s Your Calling, Not Theirs
Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant. Dear brothers and sisters, I want you to understand that the gospel message I preach is not based on mere human reasoning. I received my message from no human source, and no one taught me. Instead, I received it by direct revelation from Jesus Christ.
GALATIANS 1:10–12 NLT
For years I’ve heard people say, “God will never give you something you cannot handle.” And for a long time I actually thought it was in the Bible (it’s not, by the way). The more I think about it, the more I disagree with this frequently given response to someone’s struggles. Why on earth would God give us things we can accomplish on our own? If that were true, we wouldn’t need Him, and one of God’s chief desires for us is a deep hunger, knowing there is no way we can make it without His help.
While aligning myself with what God wants for my life, rather than what I think I want, or even what other people think I should do or want, I have realized if I sense a prompting that seems a bit crazy—it’s probably from God! He’s not typically going to call us to do something easy or mundane, but rather something that will stretch us and force us to lean on Him.
When Ben and I were in the paperwork stage of the adoption process, long before Imani was a reality, we began praying about the age of the child or children we were to adopt. We realized God was turning our hearts toward not only a baby girl but also an older boy, between five and seven years old.
We frequented the “Waiting Child List,” which could be accessed through our agency’s website. After putting little Anton and Laith down to bed at night, Ben and I would snuggle on the couch with our laptop and scroll through the photos of the sweet faces of the precious older children who were paper-ready and waiting for a family to choose them. We’d pray over each child as we searched their faces and read their medical history, hoping for any other little nugget of information about each child the agency listed.
One of those evenings we happened upon a little boy named Temesgen. There was just something about him. We couldn’t describe why, but we needed to know more. During this time, we fell on our knees, spending the next several weeks engulfed in prayer, seeking wisdom from friends and family members, and we asked for their prayers of discernment as well.
We were shocked when every single person we asked wisdom from told us not to go forward in adopting an older child. Apparently going outside the birth order is a huge no-no and would be “psychologically destructive to our current children.” They would be displaced and forever negatively impacted. We had constant conversations that held serious undertones of “Your naïveté will ruin you” and sat knee to knee with the people closest and dearest to us as they literally said, “You will destroy your family.”
Our family and friends, who are largely very godly people, with amazing personal relationships with our Lord and Savior, were all very concerned and strongly against what we were thinking about doing, even though we said we thought it was a prompting from God.
We weren’t naïve; we understood this wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows. The magnitude of this idea wasn’t lost on us, but as the amount of negative unanimous advisement we received increased, our confidence in what the Lord had impressed upon our hearts wavered. In its place, discouraged and befuddled thoughts took hold and gripped tightly.
The short of it is, we got scared. We greatly considered their opinions and certainly didn’t want to destroy our family. Surely God wouldn’t ask us to do something so crazy, we told ourselves. We figured we were coming into this conviction of adoption with a “go big or go home” mentality, which was fine when purchasing a Thanksgiving turkey, yet horrible when family planning. Perhaps we were just those stereotypical Americans who wanted to swoop in and save the day.
During that time of prayer and wisdom seeking, a DVD complete with photos and short videos of little Temesgen arrived on our doorstep. We decided we didn’t want to watch it, knowing we would fall in love with the little boy and we had already decided he wasn’t the right fit for our family. After eyeing the envelope on the kitchen counter for several days, I finally wavered and ripped it open and watched it one afternoon with Anton and Laith.
It was a very short film featuring the cutest little Ethiopian boy with a shaved head saying his ABCs in strongly accented English and playing soccer within the walls of the orphanage. Anton and Laith instantly wanted him to be their brother. My heart ached as I watched it. Oh Lord, this is surely not our son, right? We’ve prayed and prayed and sought wisdom and advice from so many people, including folks who have opened their homes to older children. They’re all telling us how hard it is, how this will negatively affect Anton and Laith, displacing them and messing up the birth order of our family. But, Lord, is he … is he our son?
I sent the DVD back that next week with a little note saying, “Thank you so much for sharing this video. Sadly, I don’t think he’s the right fit for our family.” And with that note, we closed the door. That was that. It made sense. It was practical. This little boy would find another home. You’ll take care of him, I know You will. Right, God? Just not in our family.
Days and weeks ticked by. Months passed, and as they did, we pushed our decision with Temesgen from our minds. Then, suddenly, we got “the call” about Imani, and as we prepared ourselves for the trip to get Imani and bring her home from Ethiopia, a call from the director of our agency brought word of Temesgen. We were surprised when she brought him up since it had been four months since I’d sent back that video. “Temesgen has been moved from an orphanage many hours away, to one in the capital about fifteen minutes away from the guesthouse where you’ll be staying. Do you want to meet him? He’d have no idea you’d be there to see him. Bring jump ropes and candy with you,” she urged. “The kids will simply think you’re there to play with them and are taking a tour of the orphanage.”
Ben and I hadn’t talked about Temesgen since we had decided not to go forward with an older child. Not once. And as I found out later, I somehow neglected to tell Ben that the boys and I had even watched the video. As we prayed and shared together now, Ben divulged that he had thought about and prayed for Temesgen nearly every day during the months after we had closed the door on bringing him into our family. I looked at my husband incredulously, sharing that I also thought about and prayed for him nearly daily.
Looking back, it’s shocking that we never talked about Temesgen during all those months, when he was so obviously on our hearts. God was apparently preparing us individually because it was quickly evident that we needed to carefully reopen the door and prayerfully examine our true intent in bringing this not-so-little boy into our family. We decided that we’d pack small toys, bubbles, gum, and such, and spend a few hours with the kids at Temesgen’s orphanage and to see if we heard anything from God.
And boy, did we.
After traveling nearly two days, Ben and I filed out of the last of many airplanes it had taken to get to Ethiopia. Standing restlessly and hungrily, irritated by the slow immigration line, and then wading through the men who promised to find and carry our bags for a few birr (Ethiopian currency), we finally found the driver from our guesthouse. As we settled wearily yet excitedly into the squeaky seats, our driver turned around, asking where we’d like to go first. Smiling at one another, we decided to ignore our rumbling stomachs and tired eyes. Gulping down the protein bars and dried mango we’d brought for the flights, we rode off to see Temesgen. Little did we know, this moment would be one of many pendulums that would swing us away from any sort of ordinary, comfortable life.
Heading straight for Resurrection, the perfectly named orphanage, would change our lives forever. Rebirth and restoration were at our fingertips.
As we drove in through the rusted, squeaky metal gate and onto the grounds of the orphanage, little Temesgen was the first child to run out from the white stone block building, jumping the entire bank of stairs as he rushed to greet us. Dressed in a dirty, white sleeveless T-shirt, ill-fitting cargo shorts, and (much) too small girl’s flip-flops, he immediately began to kick a well-loved soccer ball around with Ben. As I stood by the van, watching the two of them play and laugh together, I heard the voice of God whisper in my ear.
This is your son.
Whaaattt? No. No, Lord. I don’t think so.
This is your son, He whispered in my ear again.
I just stood there having an internal wrestling match with God as I tried to convince Him that He had no idea what He was saying. Why it made no sense.
This is your son, was His only reply. He said it over and over as I continued to watch the kids play with Ben, joy emanating from each of their faces.
… and it finally sunk in.
It was like reading that first pregnancy test all over again. But instead of freaking out and saying, “I’m PREGNANT!” I was instead crying out, “He’s my SON!” The very moment I actually accepted the word the Lord gave me, love and joy washed over me and took my fears away.
Gone was the consternation, the anxiety and confusion surrounding bringing home an older child. As I stood watching him and Ben play, little and big girls swarmed with the desire to touch my blonde hair and to braid it as beautifully as their own. At that moment, it seemed almost laughable that my fear had dictated how I obeyed God. This was a wild and brazen life He was asking of us, I concluded, one contrary to anything typical and conventional. Deciding to listen to God rather than the well-intentioned men and women in our lives, I hurried away from the opinion of anyone else. If this was the path God asked us to walk, I would most certainly take His hand and step into it.
I prayed Ben felt the same.
You’d think I’d have gushed all about my conversation with the Lord the moment Ben and I loaded back into the van. Strangely, the moment was so monumental, I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. I wasn’t any less elated by the revelation, and doubt wasn’t even making the tiniest debut; the epiphany was simply still being etched upon my heart. It was something so precious that I couldn’t bring myself to divulge it in spoken voice.
We sped on to another area of town, where Imani’s orphanage was located. It took all my emotional strength to keep from sobbing as her nanny placed her back into my arms. It had been weeks, but it felt like centuries since I’d snuggled her. My jagged heart suddenly felt plump and whole, like it could beat again. But I was sad and upset that she was still so ill, even though we had left plenty of medicine and formula for her when we said good-bye after our Ethiopian court trip. Looking into the dark ochre of her eyes, I vowed we would do everything within our power to help her get well, praying God would use His power.
When we weren’t pestering the US Embassy in hopes that they would expedite her visa and passport because she was extremely ill, most of our week was spent in and out of the hospital and at doctors’ appointments. Imani’s weakened body grieved us. Though five months old, she weighed a mere nine pounds. Even preemie diapers are big on you, I remember thinking while fastening them around her small waist, concerned how her skin literally hung from her bones. Standing firm through the profound sorrow in how her frame revealed the telltale bloated stomach of a malnourished child, I prayed for her health with every breath.
Because we were consumed in finding help for her infected lungs and emaciated body, conversation of Temesgen simply didn’t happen until the night before our flight home.
“What do you think?” Ben asked me as Imani slept on his chest and we reclined in bed. Still not quite ready to admit the hugeness of this new calling upon our family, I responded, “Well, I know one hundred percent what I think, but I want to hear it out of your mouth first.”
Ben shared exactly what I had felt the Lord impress upon my heart. After praying together and taking a deep breath, we jumped again. Calling our in-country lawyer, we began the process of bringing Temesgen home. The next morning before our flight we drove back over to Resurrection to spend the day with him before flying home with Imani. We have the most precious photo of the woman in charge of the orphanage telling our son that these crazy white people he played with a few days prior were actually his parents. The look on his face is pure delight with widened eyes and open mouthed smile. Leaving him that afternoon and placing his life once again into our Father’s hands was as hard as it was good. Temesgen’s new daddy and I may have been flying home, but we rested in the fact that his heavenly Father cared about him even more than we did.
While still in Ethiopia and for months after coming home, Temesgen mentioned wanting to change his name. It’s not unusual for older kids to want to do this because it’s their own way to embrace their new life. New life, new name. In the Bible when God redirected someone’s path or gave them a larger purpose for their lives, their name would also be changed to signify this transformation in the direction of their lives. For example, Abram became Abraham when he was told he would father a nation, and Saul became Paul when he turned from persecuting and killing Christians to committing his entire life to Jesus instead (Genesis 17:4–5; Acts 9, 13:9).
We didn’t want to change Temesgen’s name though, and we had no intention of doing so. It was all he had of his past and of his heritage. It was different than changing Ada’a to Imani, because someone at the orphanage named her. There was no real meaning or significance. Temesgen, though, means “the sighing within your soul in thankfulness to God.” His mama named him that; she wanted him to grow up knowing he was loved so much that the deepest recesses of her soul thanked the Lord for him. There was significance in that name I wasn’t willing to give up.
And yet he just kept asking. It was obviously very important to him.
One hot San Antonio afternoon, our three little boys were skateboarding on the sidewalk in front of our house. Bringing a picnic blanket and mixing bowl of cool water for Imani to splash in, I also grabbed a now-dusty baby name book from the bookshelf along with a notebook and pen, and headed outside to join them. Temesgen had been particularly persistent in asking for a new name the past several days, and even more so that morning. Starting in the As, I’d call out names to him that I liked, and others I thought he’d view as funny because of his profound accent. “… Colby? … David? … Fernando?” I leafed back and forth through the pages, and I came to a Biblical name section and called out “How about Ezekiel?” Hearing the name, he hopped off his skateboard, paused, and looked at me. “Yes. Ezekiel,” he said. I wrote the name below the others he’d shown interest in, ready to move on to the next page in the book. Instead though, my little boy came over to me, pointed to the name I had just written, and gently closed the book in my lap. “Ezekiel,” he said again.
And that was that. Ezekiel Temesgen Sampson Anderson. His dad’s name was Sampson; his birth name, of course, is Temesgen. His new names bookend the heart and significance of his past. Ezekiel, by the way, means “God strengthens.” It’s so appropriate in connection with his dad’s name, Samson, another Biblical figure known for his great strength (Judges 13–16). God was showing early on what a incredible force our son would be.
Remember the lesson the Lord taught me through my lack of desire to learn the basics of piano? I felt like this assignment from God to bring an older child into our family was God acknowledging that Ben and I had worked on our foundation. And we were ready for Him to put us in charge of something larger (see Matthew 25:21). With the notion that our heavenly Father never intended those committed to Him to feel comfortable and safe, we were all in.
Ben and I often remind each other that this isn’t an easy road the Lord has asked us to walk, but it’s a road He asked us loud and clear to take. And because of that, following Him is the least complicated thing I’ve ever done.
I said least complicated. Not easy.
When we got home and began to share our news, everyone around us thought we were doing too much, too fast. The word naïve was again thrown around as friends and family warned us of the consequences in having two toddlers, bringing home a baby girl from Ethiopia, and then deciding right away to also adopt a six-year-old.
They continued to tell us, “You’re going to destroy your family.” But we knew with overwhelming confidence that this was what God was calling us to do, so we just smiled, said, “Thanks for the advice,” and continued on with His plan, praying and gripping Christ and His faithfulness with white knuckles, all the way.
So what do you do when no one supports you in what you know, without a doubt, is what the Lord has required of you?
You trust.
Trust GOD from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for GOD’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Proverbs 3:5–6 MSG
It sounds a little cliché, though, doesn’t it? It sounds so simple, so streamlined and easy, wrapped up in a pretty little box with white satin ribbon holding it tightly together.
Trust.
Trust even when things are scary, even when you have no idea how it’s going to work out, even when your friends and family don’t necessarily support your calling.
For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.
Ephesians 2:10 NLT
I love going back to The Message version of the Bible when I want to read a passage in a new light.
Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.
Ephesians 2:7–10
He’s got this! We just need to say yes and hold on tight.
Really, really tight.
Remember, this is your calling, not theirs. Who are you going to let run your life: well-meaning friends and family, or God?
As a parent myself, I see how often I desire ease and comfort for our children. We don’t want our kids to go through struggles and hard things. We like the idea of lessening blows and strife. We want our little ones to be happy, right?
I think this was what our family and friends were doing. With loving hearts, they were attempting to steer us away from hard things. Ben and I have realized over time, though, that we need to prepare our children for the road, not the road for our children.
Who are we, then, to desire an easy life for ourselves, our families, and those around us? By urging the “safe” or the “easy,” we are robbing others of the profound depth that can only come from clinging to Christ in affliction.
When Anton was six, I remember driving down a neighborhood road near our house. With him in his car seat behind me, we chatted back and forth about what it means to be brave. Our sweet son, who is now in the double digits, has always wanted to be in the military, specifically in the air force, and knows bravery is a prerequisite to what his heart yearns to do. As I asked how he’d describe bravery, he said simply, “It’s being scared of something and doing it anyway.”
When did my child get so smart?
First Corinthians 16:13 (NKJV) says, “Watch, stand fast in the faith, be brave, be strong.” There are several elements to draw from in this short little verse.
1. Watch: Pay attention; be attentive. Be watchful of God’s hand in things as He shows the path He’s wanting you to take.
2. Stand fast: My thesaurus pairs this word with withstand and resist.14 We need to recognize the need to weather the storm and grip tightly to our faith through it.
3. Be brave: Life is scary and sometimes really, really hard. There are some days when just getting out of bed makes my stomach drop. It’s okay if we’re not fearless—be courageous through that fear instead.
4. Be strong: Fortitude, vigor, toughness, vitality, and grit—all these words are synonymous of strength.
Faith is the foundation of each of these. Faith breaks the chain of inadequacy and the fear that often surrounds.
Never think that you’re too young or old, too uneducated, or somehow unworthy to make a difference. Years ago, when my sweet farmor (Swedish for “father’s mother”) was still alive, she shared her frustration with me as she felt “too old” to make much impact in the world. Entering into the eighth decade of her life for her felt futile as she spent more and more time at home while her health declined. I wish she knew then what we all know now: that God would use her until literally her last breath as she led her hospice nurse to the Lord a handful of days before God ushered her into His kingdom.
Cling to Christ through insecurity and inadequacy, knowing He uses ordinary men and women (Acts 4:13).
There are things our children want to do and differences they want to make, and yet the world seems to say, “Not yet” and “You’re too young.” I’ve seen children’s T-shirts floating around on social media with “Future World Changer” on them and I cringe. Why must we teach our children they have to be older and wiser in the dealings of our world before they can change it? Why can’t they wear shirts that boast simply the words “World Changer” on them?
Don’t let anyone belittle you because you are young. Instead, show the faithful, young and old, an example of how to live: set the standard for how to talk, act, love, and be faithful and pure.
1 Timothy 4:12 VOICE
Though the community around us may decide we’re ineffective or incapable in the areas God is leading us to, and may unintentionally even do their very best to cause us to think we’re misinterpreting what He is asking of us, we must push away feelings of inadequacy that spring up in our minds. Push those not enough thoughts away and pray that the Lord will give you discernment. If you have peace even in the midst of a calling that seems rather crazy, you’re likely living in obedience.
Knowing just where our insecurities lie, Satan will most certainly strike there first. Don’t forget that our struggle isn’t simply with obstacles that can be seen with our human eyes, but rather against evil in the heavenly realm (Ephesians 6:12), a realm that we don’t usually have our eyes opened to, yet we live in the midst of.
Cling to Christ through insecurity and inadequacy, knowing He uses ordinary men and women (Acts 4:13). If He could prepare Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, He can use all of us. We’ve already talked about how Moses tried to get out of what God asked him to do. With a head buzzing with insecurity and inadequacy, Satan whispered in his ear too.
But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
Exodus 3:11 NIV
Moses answered, “What if they do not believe me or listen to me and say, ‘The LORD did not appear to you’?”
Exodus 4:1 NIV
Moses said to the LORD, “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.”
Exodus 4:10 NIV
But Moses said, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.”
Exodus 4:13 NIV
Over and over Moses questioned God’s calling, even asking Him to send someone else! He, too, was afraid of his assignment from God. But let’s believe God when He tells us to go somewhere, for He will have prepared a place for us, just as He had the Israelites. Exodus 23:20 tells of God sending an angel ahead of the Israelites to guard them along the way, guiding them to the place our heavenly Father had prepared. God commands that we get ourselves ready, pay close attention, and obey. God promises that if we do all these things, an angel strengthened by God Himself will fight for us. When you feel God calling you to do something that the world would think is crazy, get alone with God and pray:
Lord, help us keep our eyes open and tune our ears to You. Give us a hunger to obey You, and encourage a flaming desire to spend time in the Word that will be a constant, every day. Give us boldness and obedience. Don’t allow us to keep our light under a bucket, to be hidden from the world. Because You, Father, will protect us. You will fight for us. Let us also fight for You.
Let us remember Your words in Romans 9:1, Father, and be encouraged by the possibility that You raised us up for this very purpose, that You may display Your power in us and that Your name may be proclaimed in all the earth.
Just when I’d become comfortable in what God had called us to—feeling as if I’d come so far—I realized that in reality, He was far from done. With the miraculous love and patience of Christ, my heart continued to be turned from stone and into flesh. He was not done stretching me; there was more I was to learn.
I want thy plan, O God, for my life. May I be happy and contented whether in the homeland or on the foreign field; whether married or alone, in happiness or sorrow, health or sickness, prosperity or adversity—I want Thy plan, O God, for my life. I want it; oh I want it! Oswald J. Smith15