THE KINDNESS OF A KING
Sometimes the thing that impacts us most about a gift or word isn’t the thing itself, but the timing. In a year that was themed by God’s kindness and mercy, I found over and over that His kindness wasn’t just in what He said or did, but in the timing, showing me he really does have our times in his hands and knows what we need and when.
There are many examples I could give.....a dream about a plane ticket being bought for me that came right before I was invited to take part in a project in Canada I wouldn’t otherwise have had faith to be able to be part of, meeting someone new at church in Wales that I really felt connected with and wanted to get to know better the day before I found out my DTS was canceled (and therefore I’d be staying around), opportunities to connect with people and visit places, repeated confirmation about my DTS even after God had already clarified which kept me steady at a time I felt shaken and uncertain of what I was doing and why.....the list goes on, and it amazes me when I think of these small things that made such a difference. Just imagine, the God who carries the concerns of the universe, who holds it (and more) in the palm of his hand) still takes the time to lavish me with acts of kindness!
The timing that really wrecked my heart came in our second last week of the DTS. The topic for the week was Destiny, and our lecturers loved to tell us testimonies and stories from their years of working with orphans. Many were about adoption and the whole school found themselves getting excited about orphan care, fostering and adoption. Except for me. I found myself frustrated. Angry. I didn’t need selling on adoption. I WANT it! I’ve wanted to adopt since I was a teenager and that desire had grown over years, and been fed by prophetic words and dreams confirming it. Grown and........faded. Well, the dream had not faded, but the hope it would happen was certainly on the way to being gone.
I’m closer to my 37th birthday than 36th. I’m single. I have no-one pursuing me or even remotely interested. My biological clock is ticking and those age limits on adoption paperwork getting closer. I’ve said ‘yes’ to God to his invite to serve in this same location for a minimum of two years and that (in an earthly mindset) then limits the number of people that I might meet. In short, I’ve really felt my time for those dreams is running out.
And so, whilst the other 16-21s began to dream dreams of adopted families, I spent time surrendering that dream. Letting go of it, and placing myself before God and letting his ways become mine, even when they didn’t look the way I’d hoped.
More so than that, I’ve aborted and miscarried in the past, and that week was the anniversary of the death of one of my natural children. Some years those dates go by with no impact, but this year I can only describe it as being ‘slammed’!
And so I wrestled. I wrestled with lies from The Enemy that I didn’t deserve children because of my previous choices. I wrestled with my emotions and some of the lies that I shouldn’t grieve because it was my choice. I wrestled with the shame again of having made that choice I knew to be so wrong. I missed the kid that would be sixteen years old and wondered what she would have looked, sounded and behaved like. Who she would have been.
Wrestling, and surrender, wrestling and surrender. Letting truth wash away the lies, and letting my heart grieve again.
By the end of the week I’d come to a place of peace and calm. The dreams were surrendered. I will always ‘miss’ my kids, but the emotions were not the ‘I can’t breathe because of this’ intensity they had been. I was content in that moment to be single and childless as long as God led me the way he has been.
And then: His kindness.
We spent time on our last day prophesying over each other. Our lecturer went first, and spoke of God’s promises seeming delayed but still being on the way, and hinted at family and inheritance among other things. Something in my spirit knew he was referring to a husband and children but I was also aware of not wanting to turn it into that when he hadn’t explicitly said so. But God knew. And God is kind.
Next, our DTS leader. He knew nothing of my struggle, little of my hopes and nothing of where I was at that week. Even my one on one had not yet happened, so I hadn’t shared out loud with anyone what was happening in my heart. And so, Josiah began speaking. Specifically. Clearly. Of children. Of an inheritance. Of things God has called my actual (not just spiritual) children to do. Of the delay not being a delay, but the promise being on its way.
Wick hadn’t known. Anita hadn’t known. Josiah hadn’t known. But God did. He could have spoken that word any time, but in his kindness he took a week that was about not just the surrender but of living the consequence of a choice that had left me without the very gift I SO desired, and he chose that week to speak redemption, restoration and hope. He chose that week to re-emphasise my being forgiven. He chose that week so he could give back immediately something I had surrendered to him. He chose that week to redeem the struggle and the loss.
Because he’s merciful.
Because he’s kind.
