Waiting for Our Forever Home
By Cara Ray
-The Homeward Bound Series – Cara’s Story-
The landscape changed as soon as we crossed the border. Paved roads turned into dirt ones, and before long feral dogs outnumbered people on the streets. The surrounding hills were crammed with plywood and cinder block homes, and nearly everything about this foreign city seemed inhospitable and harsh. But as we pulled into the orphanage compound, things began to change. The exterior of the building was no-nonsense, with it’s iron bars and barbed wire fencing, but inside was a little oasis of comfort and hope to thirty-five of the city’s neediest children.
My visit there began with a text message just four days earlier from my 19-year-old son, Cole. “Hey Mom! Do you wanna go with me to Mexico to serve at the orphanage?”
Since he moved away to college, our one-on-one times together had become precious and rare, and I was eager to spend time with him. Before thinking too much about the implications, I quickly replied, “Yes! I can go!”
But shortly after I hit “Send” the dopamine began to wear off, and I worried I had made a hasty mistake. I wondered if I would be any help to the staff, with almost nada Español, and if I was ready to forgo the comforts of home, even if was only for a few days.
It had been many years since my last mission trip, but I knew that being uncomfortable was part of the deal. I wanted to go to love the children and bless the staff with some time off, but as much as I wanted to go, I dreaded it too.
It wasn’t until I really started to consider this trip that I realized how dependent I’d become on my comfort. Being home with my family, surrounded by my soft environment, as pleasant as that all is, had lulled me into missional laziness. I knew this trip would stretch me out of my comfort zone, and for that reason, I knew I needed to go. So, I stuffed my bags along with my hesitations and set out.
When we got there, the anticipation and the realization of what it would be like were as wonderful and as hard as I imagined. The contrasts continued as I stepped inside the orphanage doors. The brown landscape gave way to brightly painted walls with children’s artwork, and I watched in amazement as this larger-than-life family functioned like a well-oiled machine.
Since I was limited in my ability to communicate, I became an active observer of all the activity buzzing around me. Knowing that most of the children had traumatic stories of abuse, neglect, and abandonment prior to arriving there, I wondered how they were really doing. Even though those scars often run deeper than what can be observed at surface level, in general, the children appeared to be happy, cared for, and loved.
But it was still an orphanage, and a stark reminder that things are not supposed to be this way. I grieved for these precious children, who were “the least of these” in the world’s estimation, and wondered what their futures would be. But as I considered these things, I couldn’t help but identify with them, in this place of transition. Isn’t this our common experience? As believers, we’re also awaiting our final adoption into our eternal, forever home.
Paul said in Romans 8:15, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”
What a comforting truth! No matter what our earthly circumstances are, our spiritual status is not that of orphans but of adopted sons and daughters of the King. We are privileged to be in his family and we can even call him our “Abba” or our “Daddy.”
But a few verses later, Paul acknowledges that while our adopted status is a glorious reality, we still live in the tension of waiting for it be realized. “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:23).
My visit to the orphanage was an experience of contrasts. I was surprised that in such a desolate place, there could be such a sweet oasis of love and family. Life had dealt devastating blows to these children’s lives, and yet even with the removal of those familial ties, there was a new, bigger, and more welcoming family waiting to graft them in.
Perhaps the plight of the orphan is more similar to our own experience than we realize. While we experience the blessings that come from being adopted into God’s family, we’re still eagerly waiting for our physical union with our Abba, which will come later. The now and not yet. It’s here, and yet we’re waiting for it. Our homes are here, and yet they’re not. As we wait for our gotcha day, we remember that home isn’t where our comforts are, but where the heart of Jesus is, and that is enough for now.
Cara Ray is a holy leisure seeking, community-building writer and entrepreneur who desires to encourage others to pursue, and more importantly, enjoy, spending time with Jesus. As a former quiet time check-box checker, Cara writes weekly devotionals about enjoying God through the practice of holy leisure. She is the founder of a Christian online writing community, the Writers’ Bloc, where the focus is on growing in the art and heart of writing, and she also owns her own copywriting and marketing business, Avocado Toast Marketing. Her work has been featured on Challies.com, YouVersion, and Joyful Life Magazine. She tries to stay cool in the beautiful desert of Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband Tim, and her four delightful children.
You can subscribe to her weekly devotionals at cara-ray.com, and find out more about the Writers’ Bloc at mywritersbloc.com. You can also find her on Instagram and Facebook.
Just a perfect reminder of our true home. Not quite yet.
Thank you, Cara. A very timely message.