To My Sons... (Part 2)

Part 2 of a 3 part letter

"But Jacob replied, 'I will not let you go unless you bless me.' The man asked him, 'What is your name?' 'Jacob,' he answered. Then the man said, 'Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.'"

Genesis 32:26-28

My Sons,

As you read on in this letter, know that your father only took pride in one area that ever really matters: the name of Jesus. I've tried making a name for myself on my own, but it was in vain. My mistakes are many, yet I boast in only one true victory. That victory is in my surrendering to Jesus and His plan. You all are results of that true victory.

Surrender is not a popular word in America. It's especially shunned in the male population. In fact, we'd rather continue a facade that appears to give us what we desire, than surrender to another that truly brings freedom.

When your mother and I surrendered Our plan to take up His plan, God opened up a door for us to be a part of something absolutely remarkable. Kenya has served to break us and remold us time and time again. However, the remarkable part was being enlisted in the front-line of His campaign to reclaim the lost of this world. Now, we were naive, yet again, but obedient. Neither of us had been to seminary, let alone spent vast amounts of time in cross-cultural ministry. Yes, we went to Honduras, Dominican Republic, India, and other places in between, but we had never relocated to another people group.

We found ourselves taking over a ministry that a very Godly couple began in Nairobi. These two Saints dripped with humility. They boasted in seeing lives changed for the Kingdom. They were infectious. And we were trying to pick up their mantle and discover God's purpose for us at the same time. It wasn't easy, yet it was right. For the first time in many years, this feeling of being "out of control" of our own lives seemed proper. And we were definitely out of it's control!

From street evangelism to chicken farming, Bible Training to guest house services, street boys ministry to pastor's conferences; we were involved in so much! It was cool, yet difficult. No one in ministry would ever pretend it easy, because it's just not true. We had a lot of growing to do! A lot! In fact, we are still growing. Our hearts had to grow to include a team of Kenyans who became family to us. Our minds had to grow to understand leadership of a ministry. And our passion grew to care and advocate for a group of boys who had no one else to care for them.

Something else remarkable happened along the way. It began as simple curiosity, but soon grew into a committed plan. In December of 2008 we started going through the process of adopting a Kenyan orphan into our family. After seeing the hurting children in Kenya and even working with several, God moved in us to start this process. There was a lot of learning to be done! There was a lot of frustration and confusion involved. For the next 7 months we fought an uphill battle. Every small step, even obtaining paperwork, was an epic battle. Our resolve was tested so many times during this process. God taught us so many things about ourselves during this time. We had no idea how painful it could be, yet the quiet voice of God chided us, "I went through more pain to adopt you!"

We began to realize how significant adoption was. This is a tangible way we could model God's love for us. The reality of abandonment in this part of the world pained us in many of the same ways that the lives of our young people in the Student Ministry pained us to see. That's what the deterioration of this world has begat. But our Father loved us to the point of an unfathomable sacrifice being made, just to bring us into His family. Couldn't we do the same? Shouldn't we consider it?

In August of 2009, the United States government closed adoptions for it's citizens with Kenya. We might have been devastated but a month earlier we had begun sensing God tell us, like Abraham, "time to move." We migrated our adoption from Kenya to Rwanda in obedience to Him without any doubt. A month later the decree became public. We were encouraged that we had made the right choice. Now things would get easier... right?

Rwanda proved to be even harder. So much of our paperwork had to be re-done. At one point we were even advised that we'd have to go back to the US for a specific finger-printing that could ONLY be done in the US. During this time doubt crept back in. The ghosts of the past came back. It seemed that everyone we knew was adopting around us. They were having success while we struggled in the earliest stages. One family even began their process after us, then had their child within a year. What kind of cruel joke is this? How were we failing? What did we do wrong? We simply didn't understand.

Lindy and I sat in the car one evening while in the US and confessed that we were hurting. Before, we had had dreams of our future children of another culture. Now, we couldn't even see their faces in our minds. We used to talk about what names we liked. Now we couldn't even talk about them in front of one another. It was one of the most painful things in my life to see my wife hurt for children she couldn't touch, couldn't talk to, couldn't care for, couldn't bake cookies for, couldn't read books to, or even put them to bed under her protection. We cried often.

The other shoe fell on August 27th, 2010. While returning from visiting our special friends in Tanzania, we sat in the airport in utter disbelief as we read a difficult email. "Mr. & Mrs. Thompson, The Rwandan government has closed all adoptions from its country to bring it's processes into Hague compliance until further notice...." ... What do you say? What do you think? "WE SURRENDER GOD!" We surrender...

The next few days were lonely.

A week after that news, we were in Kawangware spending time with the Saint Boys. There had been some continuing struggles with their former life. Some wanted to run back to the street. A few of them didn't know if they wanted to stay and felt like outcasts. So we had a time of confession. We ALL sat in a circle and talked. Lindy and I sat with them. "This is a time for us to confess to each other. This is where we talk like a family." As they went around the room sharing their fear, frustrations, and anything else on their hearts,... something began to well up inside of me. I was sitting in a circle of young men whom the world had turned their backs on. No mother was out looking for these boys, yet my wife was praying each night for their hearts. No place was set at a table for them in hopes they'd return, yet we had written their names on cups and plates and told them that 'this was yours.' No one was worrying about their future; their college; their salvation. Well, almost no one.

The more we talked, the more my heart crept up into my throat. After everyone had shared... I spoke up...

"My wife and I have no children. We haven't been able to have our own biological children for many years. In fact, our second attempt at adopting some child who needs a family has just ended." ... "You are all my sons and I have just realized that. Boys,... I love you. I WILL go look for you when you run away to the streets. I WILL provide food, shelter, a family, education, and acceptance in this place. I WILL worry about you, pray for you, and plan for your future. I WILL give you whatever is attached to my name... if you want it. You each will be as much my heirs as any son I bear."

My Sons,

I think you realize what all this is about. This story is about you. This is about the depth of my love for you. I write this so you will always have a reminder that your father and mother, though flawed, loved you without question. I now know that we went through all the things we did in order to see what God had plainly put in front of our faces. My greatest success in ministry in Kenya is finding you! It is also among the greatest successes in my life.

My name may not ever be great, but I hope to make it solid enough for you to be proud of wearing it. You are all Thompsons. And that makes me very very proud!

Tomorrow I will address you with something I've wanted to say specifically to each of you. Like Jacob, I know who I am and need not attempt to be someone else or pretend to be someone else. I am your father who loves you and wants you to know my Father. The lessons I have learned (and still am learning) do not make me see God as a cruel father, but an extraordinary teacher and dad who needed me to understand what love really looks like and how much it costs. I am getting that lesson.