My wife Kristi and I have been foster parents for almost one year now. Trust me, I know how crazy this is to most people. We already had four biological boys of our own. But we didn’t feel like our family was done, even though it was done biologically (trust me, I had the surgery). So, last July we began praying for a bigger van. We simply outgrew the normal minivan. A minivan could no longer hold our love.

Last week, we pick up our new 12 passenger van. And just in time, too.

I can’t give a lot of details, but our world has became a lot more chaotic. In fact, it’s a beautiful madhouse. Late last week, we received a call asking if we could take three more foster kids. We said yes. So, we went from 5 kids (our 4 sons and Baby G, who we’ve fostered for almost a year now) to 8 kids in our home. It helps that the other kids are Baby G’s biological siblings, but It doesn’t help as much when 8 kids are fighting, fussing, whining, pottying (on a potty or in diapers) or falling asleep at the most inopportune of times.

We never set out to become a big family. But then again, we never opposed being a big family. That much should be obvious with four biological sons of our own. But there’s something unexplainable about foster parenting. Someone recently told us that as you begin to love the kids God places with you, your heart expands to love each additional child for the season they are with you. That is very true. But it’s hard. In fact, sometimes it sucks. Our house is loud. It can get messy and lots of things break. We sweep/mop/vacuum/wash dishes/load laundry/fold laundry/put away laundry/wipe privates, change diapers, wipe mouths, tables and floors, etc., multiple times a day. Every day. And, in addition to the normal household chores that any children bring with them, foster children often bring problems of their own with them (though the problems are most often not their fault) and these kids are no exception. But then again, biological children are not always a walk in the park either. This type of life requires sacrifice.

But then again, it always takes sacrifice to love others, doesn’t it? And this has led me to lots of thought and prayer lately.

I am passionate about foster care and adoption. We have four biological children of our own and then decided our family wasn’t complete. But I know people that aren’t called by God to be foster parents. And that’s OK. I am under no illusion that you are called to be a foster parent, especially of multiple children. And I’m OK with that.

Just don’t tell me how crazy I am for opening my home. I already know that. I can’t even go to Target without getting stares and comments. Even in the heart of Suburbia, large families are not the norm. I understand that you may not be called to open up your home. But I have to ask: how has God called you to sacrifice? Even though I may not know personally, I can guarantee you that God has called us to more than a comfortable American life where we put our church sticker on our car and call it good.

How has God called you to sacrifice? How has God called you to embrace and enter the suffering of the world He loved enough to send Himself/His Son to die for? Just like I believe that ”Not Every Local Church Is For Every Person,” I believe that not every Christian is called to sacrifice in the same way. But all Christians are called to sacrifice. Something.

This may seem self-evident to you, but the way Christians treat one another says to me that we don’t believe this. I am weary of Christians believing that because we’re not all called to sacrifice in the same that we’re not all loved by our Father in the same way. While most of us would never be so blunt as to word it that way, this is exactly how we treat one another. The ones who passionately sacrifice on behalf of those caught in sex trafficking/slavery sometimes look down on those who aren’t called to serve in the same way. The people giving their lives to the homeless want others to share that passion. Those fighting abortion passionately ask “Where. Is. The. Church?” Those, like me, who open up their homes for kids with no home wish that more Christians would do the same.

But instead of celebrating and encouraging and equipping the beautifully different ways Christians can and do impact our culture, we cast dispersions at those who aren’t called to serve like us.

Now, I’m going to be brutally honest; if you claim to follow Jesus and you’re not living sacrificially in some way, I urge you to repent. I’m not sure you can truly belong to God’s family and live for yourself. However, that’s really not the group I’ve been thinking/praying about.

I am far too quick to dismiss those who are not like me. But at the same time, I tire of people that are just like me. After all, “variety is the spice of life,” right? What kind of world would it be if we all liked the same music or movies or food? I am deeply concerned that we are creating non-necessary dividing lines within the big freak-show tent of Christianity. I am far too quick to think that if you’re not called to serve in the same way that I am, then you’re not called by God at all. And that’s just nonsense. We don’t all like the same music. And that’s awesome. We don’t all like the same movies and I thank God that I’ve never had to sit through Titanic or Avatar (the 3D thing, not the animated series) even though I can appreciate that those may be your thing.

Why do we all take for granted that our passion (trafficking, abortion, homelessness, poverty in all its forms, health, water, children, hospitals, literacy, etc., etc., etc., etc.,) is the only passion? If that were the case, we might make a large dent in one issue without making any dent in others and making little to no impact on the big picture. Why are we so quick to elevate our own passions while diminishing others (hint, I think it’s because, even in serving, we are arrogant)?

This whole journey has reminded me that God’s people are nothing more than a beautiful circus of crazies and freaks. Instead of judging one another for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we one another’s best cheerleaders? Instead of looking down on each other for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we reaching back to grab the hands of those who aren’t yet serving at all? Instead of believing that our focus is pitch-perfect, why aren’t we all listening to the beautiful symphony of God’s will to reconcile all things to Himself through the Son while we try to find our part in the orchestra?

If the world will know that we belong to Jesus because of our love for one another (John 13:35), I wonder what our false judgment of one another tells those who are paying any attention?

I don’t get it. I love people. I really do. I just get worn out by being in social settings for long periods of time. I have no problem speaking in front of groups of people, in fact, I enjoy it. I have pasable social skills. I’m not shy.

But, we often have long social functions at our home. We host concerts here, we have parties, we have an open-door policy. The parties that sometimes break out into little groups of people having deep conversations are my favorite. But that’ not always what happens. And when it doesn’t, I find myself strangely out of sorts in my own home.

Of course, I’ve learned over the years that I am an introvert. There is a lot of talk lately about introverts (in the church) and caring for them. This at least has given me a context to understand what I used to think of simply as me being unsocial, even if it doesn’t help me overcome some of those tendencies. And let me be honest: I’m not sure some of my introverted tendencies are all that acceptable, even though I sometimes make light of them.

It has occurred to me that, as an introvert who regularly hosts social functions, it might be useful to pass along some of the tips I’ve learned along the social path. If I can spare just one other introvert some of the awkward social experiences of my trek, it will have been worth it all. Here are some of the things I’ve learned:

Find Errands To Run And Tell Everyone That You’re Going On Them

The first and most ideal option is to find any errand that needs to be run and tell everyone that you will be the one going. This way, you are part of furthering the social function by running to grab a forgotten item, but you can also slip away for some alone time. Be sure to tell everyone that you will be the one running said errand because if someone asks where you are, there’s an easy answer and if someone needs what is still missing, you’re the one to the rescue.

Find Lots Of Jobs To Do

Of course, not ever social function needs errands to be run. There is that rare occasion where everyone brings what they said they would. We have the ice, don’t worry. In these cases, a full-on escape might not be possible. However, there are some options for being an island in the stream and finding some “wind-down” time even while the party rages.

Do you remember that Seinfeld bit where George shares how he pretends to be busy at work? Find lots of jobs to do. This is easiest when the social function is at your own home. You can take out the trash. You can take out the recycle. You can wash dishes. You can load the dishwasher. You can wipe down the counters. You can move chairs. You can sweep. There are lots of ways you to float through the stream of social current without being sucked into the tiring whirlpool of extroversion. Be sure to find jobs that keep you on the move but that allow you to fulfill the next point:

Bounce Around The Room Enough To Always Know The Social Current

Though prolonged social interactions do drain us introverts, it’s important not to be rude. So, as you find lots of jobs to do around the party, be sure to stop in to various social circles, just to check in and the various conversations. This way, you have lots of large conversational touch-points for future conversations with individual people without having to talk to all of them.

Bonus Tip: Find The Most Secluded Bathroom

This last tip is a bonus because it can apply to functions in your own home and when you’re visiting. Always know where the most secluded publicly-available restroom is at the host facility. If it’s your own home, this is probably the master bath, but if you’re visiting, it may be a guest bathroom. If it is excluded, it will take you a minute or two to get there and, you can always buy yourself a few extra minutes in the bathroom. Do you really want to ask me why I was in there longer than it takes you?

I hope these tips are helpful for you introverts struggling to party in an extrovert world. The take-a-way here seems to be; either have the party at your own home or find the most secluded restroom.

My wife and I are foster parents. Yes, we have four biological sons of our own. Yes, we are probably crazy. We’ve had Baby G. since he was two days old (we can’t even foster a girl!). He’s our third placement since becoming foster parents and we’ve had him just over six months. Up until very recently, we had been told by many people within the system that we would be able to adopt him. Then a family member showed up asking for custody (you can read about some initial reactions to that news here). I get it: we signed up for foster-care and we knew that we might lose him, but it’s been difficult. Baby G has become part of our family.

It’s been an interesting process. I can honestly say that Kristi and I have a peace about the situation. It will suck if we lost him, but God is Good, Right and Perfect, and we can trust Him. The possibility of losing Baby G (we still don’t know what will happen) has prompted some soul-searching and initiated some serious questions about my family and particularly my role as a Daddy.

If you’ve seen Baby G’s smile, you know how precious it is. If you’ve heard his laugh, you know it can melt hearts. We’ve come to the conclusion that, even if we do lose Baby G, our “job” right now is to love the snot out of him, make sure his needs are more than met and enjoy him. And that’s the way it should be. That’s the way it should be with my other kids. But it took the possibility of losing our foster son to realize how easily I take my biological family for granted.

I have been reminded to ask: “What is my life?” because “I am a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). I have learned again to know that, even though I should get on them more about bedtime, to enjoy the sound of their chatter. I have been reminded that it’s a small thing to live with the clutter of five awesome boys. I have been reminded that my boys are more important than my possessions. I have learned to love them for who they are instead of being frustrated that they’re not who I want them to be. It’s OK when they’re loud. I have been taught again to eat, drink and be merry, because life is good. Sometimes loss is part of loving. It’s not easy but it doesn’t excuse us from loving.

Jesus has a special place for children and so should we. Not just the dry obligation of “doing what’s right” to care for children but to actually enjoy them because they won’t be children for long. Baby G has reminded me that the heart is truly more important than behavior. True, behaviors flow from the heart but I worry too much that too many parents focus on the behaviors rather than the heart. And I can’t focus on my family’s hearts without first focusing on my own. My relationship with God will determine what kind of Daddy I am.

Thank you, Baby G for teaching me.

As many of you know, we are a foster family. That is to say, Kristi and I are licensed foster parents. We are currently loving our third foster child, whom we will call “Baby G.” (I have written about some of our foster experiences here and here).

We had our first two placements each for five days. That was quite the “introduction by fire” way of getting into foster parenting because five days is just long enough to begin getting attached but not long enough to really understand to whom you are getting attached. After a short break, we received our third placement, a 2-day old baby boy. We have now had Baby G. for six months. That’s quite enough time to understand to whom are getting attached and we have fallen for this little boy. He is truly a joy for our family and everyone who meets him.

I can’t share all of the details, but let’s just say that a relative recently came forward saying that they want to adopt Baby G. Up until last week, we had been assured by several people in the system that we would be able to pursue adopting Baby G. When we began to hear this from several voices, we really let our guard down and welcomed Baby G into our family. Our biological sons adore him. Neighbors ask if he can come visit. Teachers at the school ask about him when we don’t bring him with us to pick-up or drop-off. People in our church family stand in line to hold him. We have endured hospital visits with him. And now he might be leaving. I’m not going to lie: we’ve shed some tears.

It’s in the midst of tears that we’re often the most attentive. This can work itself out in a number of ways. For me, during this current situation, it’s resulted in frustration with Christians. I remember, a very long time ago, I found out that a girlfriend had dumped me and a close friend of mine nonchalantly told me: “God works in mysterious ways.” Of course he was right, but it wasn’t helpful. In fact, it was patronizing and aggravating. And somehow, this seems to be the drawer into which so much well-intentioned “Christian” advice is filed: “theologically correct but not helpful in the moment.”

One of the phrases that I have heard during our current test goes something like: “God probably has something better for you in all of this.” I understand the intent: “sometimes, we want what is not actually best for us.” But, the way it is often communicated, it actually comes across more as something like: “You think Baby G. is a good baby and that you’ve bonded with him and you want to raise him, but wait until you meet the next baby, he/she will be SO much better than you ever could have hoped for!”

Notice that there has been a subtle shift between those two statements. It is indeed true that “sometimes, we want what is not actually best for us.” But I don’t think this necessarily means that God will astound our earthly expectations with something newer, bigger, better and with a superior warranty. When we think of our own misconstrued expectations in this light, it helps explain why wer’e so often disappointed or even angry with God; I expected my life to be materially better and it sure doesn’t seem to be. Could it be that our expectations are misplaced?

God does not promise to make us more comfortable for our time here on earth. Perhaps God sometimes removes the earthly things we treasure, not because He wants us to look for a “better” earthly replacement but so that we would find our deepest satisfaction in Him; that we would love the Giver more than the gifts. Maybe that “something better” that God has planned for us is actually Him? You know the saying: you don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone. But what if what we’ve really got is never gone? What if it takes the removal of things that get in the way for us to fully realize what we’ve had all along?

This is not to say that Baby G. has been a hindrance in our lives or that we have any such notion that he “gets in the way.” However, my relationship with him should prompt me to wrestle with the question: what if he does go? If he does, will we withdraw from fostering because we allowed ourselves to get too attached to this precious baby? Will we keep on pursuing the “foster path” and continue to offer the best home  we can to the children that God brings us? He is an absolute blessing. But what if my stress over him causes me to question my trust of God: God wouldn’t take him because we’re the best home for him (but who am I really to say that!). In that moment, I love the gift more than the giver. If something God has given me distracts from my love/affection/obedience, to Him,  it is no longer a “gift,” it is an idol

I do believe that what we want is not always best for us. Just think about when our children ask for candy for every meal. I also believe that God has better things planned for us than we do. I just worry that our expectation of “better” is not God’s. God is the good, better and best. God will not tempt us, but He will test us. His ways are better. He is the supreme fountain of love, security, identity, satisfaction and joy. He is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him. When God orchestrates our circumstances to bring us closer to Him, do we really believe that He has given us the best?

Thank you everyone, for all your prayers and words of encouragement. It’s been a rough couple of days but we’re all home safe and sound, just with about a quarter of a toe less than we had in the family on Friday afternoon. If you’re unaware, my second son, Owen, lost part of his toe Friday evening (you can read about it here).

We were told that the surgery would be Saturday morning at 10:00am. around 9:35 or so, the nurses came in to get him and started wheeling him out of the room when another nurse came in and said: “STOP! We just got a call from the Operating Room.” All of the nurses filed out of the room for a couple of minutes and came back in saying: “We’re so sorry but his surgery has been re-scheduled for 7:00pm. But, hey, look on the bright side, he can have something to eat now.”

As parents, we were slightly perturbed. My cynical side thought something like: Oh sure, the surgeon’s tee-time was moved and now we’ve got to pay a ton more money to stay here that much longer and Owen’s already nervous and this just prolongs it!

So we passed the day in nervous waiting, playing iPad games, watching the Olympics and trying to focus on a sermon on the entire book of Leviticus. 7:00pm finally came and he went in to surgery. He was in surgery for about 15 minutes when the power went out and anxiety drowned my heart. As the generators immediately kicked on, I thought of something the surgeon told us as we met with him for the Pre-Op consultation. He said: “I’m so sorry you got rescheduled but we had a catastrophe in which a child lost an arm.” Oh man. I am such a jerk. I am (still) so sinful. I was angry. I was irritable. I was resentful. I didn’t believe the best. I didn’t hope the best (1 Corinthians 13). I didn’t cast my anxieties on Him (1 Peter 5:7).

Thinking about his words and the look of sorrow in that doctor’s face, repentance hit me like a ton of bricks as I listened to the hum of florescent lights. It put things into perspective. What we were going through disrupted our family and will be something we deal with in various ways for a while. But this little child lost an arm.

Moments of crisis, both large and small, are pivotal. They are spotlights on the soul. Prior to Friday, I had thought my soul was in a fairly good place. I was reading, I was praying, I was focusing on joy, humility and gratitude. But then I was reminded that, though I had been focusing on faith, it had been a while since I had truly repented. I had forgotten that faith and repentance always go hand in hand. I had focused on faith issues without searching my heart and walking in continual repentance.

Owen has already talked about how we can’t wait to forget this whole incident. We jokingly told him that every time he looks at his left foot, he’ll be reminded. He sighed and rolled his eyes. I understand why Owen might not wear flip flops for a while. But I want him to understand why, from now on, whenever I look at his one shorter toe, why I might get a little misty eyed, thinking of how God used a chopped-off toe to remind me of His pursuing love and unending grace.

I don’t normally use my blog to promote my sermons, but you might be interested in hearing the sermon I preached on what I learned from Owen’s Infamous Toe Incident. Listen here.