Practically Spiritual

Working with children and teens in foster care has changed my view of spirituality. More specifically, it has altered the way that I approach sharing my faith. I have learned traditional evangelism. I know and have shared the Gospel with people by way of “you’ve sinned, Jesus died, repent, be saved”. I believe God’s Word when it says that when you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord He will forgive your sins. It seems that in my current job there would be many opportunities to share this Gospel with those who do not know, and I deeply desire for all of our children to come to know the Christ I serve.

But it’s not that simple.

As I always do, looking through the eyes of our kids, it suddenly makes spirituality seem a bit different than I’m used to. A lot of times when I would be otherwise blatantly speaking glory to God, I catch myself short. At first I was bothered by this. I am not ashamed of my relationship with Christ, and I never plan to be. I normally have no problem pausing to pray or speaking with Scripture and Truth. Why is it then that when I am living amongst those that can be called nothing more than “the least of these” is it the hardest to be bold and courageous?

I am beginning to figure it out though. When I speak about my faith, it is with God’s promises. When I share my most treasured attributes of Him, it is of His love, comfort, and protection. It is easy for me to believe those qualities and have faith in the things that God has promised His children.

But I’ve always been safe. I’ve never been abused or left alone or threatened. I have experienced scary things, but I had an underlying foundation of security and trust. I knew where to get help and who could help me. My brain developed in a healthy environment with mostly proper nurturing, food, and education. Words like love, family, comfort, father, home, kindness, discipline, care, safety, and compassion hold good or neutral memories and feelings. I quickly relate all those things to my Heavenly Father. It comes easy to me.

Our kids rarely have a positive view of safety, family, and trust. And that is so very justified.But I dare not introduce them to Jesus through ways that have hurt my kids. I don’t want them to associate their bad memories with their relationship with God. With the deep hurts, scars, and trauma that foster kids experience, I want them to know deep within their being that God was and is right there with them. They can have a relationship with God and have the struggles that they do. But it is so difficult to explain to a child and a victim, that God was still with them in the midst of their pain and abuse. It seems that in this society, the history and labels of kids with anxiety and trauma could somehow make them less of a person or less of a Christian. When, in fact, it almost makes them more. It has been more effective to cry with a child and to tell them that God is crying with us, that He is so sad about their situation too than it has been to have our kids memorize scripture and recite it.

So, I have to find a different way to tell that about Christ. And I’ve figured it out: Action. Living out what I promise. Showing what Love is. Being practical. Not being overly spiritual with them. Not discussing their feelings about their relationship with God.Before I can say 1 word about God, these kids need to see days and weeks of practical steps of love, care, and safety. THAT is sharing my faith. THAT is a Gospel in which they can find healing and hope. Jonathon and I make it clear to all of our kids that we love and serve Jesus. We will often tell them that we take care of them because God takes care of us. But then that’s it. We let them lead with their own questions and wonderings after that. We let them experience a loving God in a safe environment. No pushing. 

Sharing our faith and our God is easy and difficult all in the same moment. 


Foster Care is hard

For my Family Teacher colleagues and anyone else involved in the foster care world, that title is an understatement. Especially today, especially in our cottage. There are many parts of foster care that could win the title of worst part, but saying goodbye is very near the top of the list. Often when we are talking to people about our jobs we hear things like “I could never do what you do. I would get too attached. It would be too hard to say goodbye.” Guess what folks, we get attached to the kids in our care. I don’t think it’s possible to become ‘too attached’ but if it is, we get too attached. It’s hard to say goodbye. Really hard. Too hard sometimes. But we do it.

Foster care is such a bittersweet ministry. Ideally, foster care would never be needed. In a perfect world, all children would be able to experience a safe, consistent, unconditionally loving family. Kids should always have adequate food, water, and shelter. They deserve the opportunity to get an education and have access to appropriate entertainment and recreation. Unfortunately we don’t live in a perfect world. Children experience things they never should, and need systems and people in place to provide what they need when their family can’t or won’t. We love being those people and we are happy to be part of that system. It doesn’t mean we are glad when a child is abused or neglected, but we are glad to be there when they are. I would tell patients on the ambulance that I’m not happy that they got sick or injured, but I’m happy I could be the one to help them. I tell kids the same thing. I’m not happy that you got taken away from your family, but I’m happy that you are here with us now.

Foster care is hard. All Heidi and I know is foster care in a group setting. I’m sure there are a lot of differences between what we do and private foster families, but there’s also many commonalities. We take care of good kids going through really hard stuff. In our house, we have of 8 kids going through 8 different traumas. That means 8 different reactions and opinions, 8 different parenting styles and attachments. It’s hard to manage. Each child is so different and it requires so much time and energy to develop and maintain positive relationships with each of them. We’re lucky to have 24/7 support if needed and scheduled time off, which is something foster families don’t always get. That has to be hard. Foster care is exhausting.

Saying goodbye is the worst. Especially when you’re ‘too attached’ to them. Especially when you’re not sure what they’re going back to. When people say “It would be too hard for me to say goodbye to them” they imply that it’s easy for us. Nope. Not even close. We had to say goodbye today to a boy who cried inconsolably when he first moved in with us because he wanted so badly to go home. Last night when he was told that he was going home he cried because he didn’t want to leave all of his friends. To quote our teammate who was charged with telling him the plan: “What do you say to a little guy being discharged tomorrow who is crying in his bed because he may never see everyone here again?” There’s no good answer. You tell him how much you love him and that you won’t stop loving him even after he’s gone. You fake excitement that he’s being reunited with his family, even when you’re screaming on the inside because you know it’s a bad idea. You sit and cry with him, telling him how thankful you are for your time together and for the impact he’s had on your life. You pray with him and ask God to protect him and for him to feel God’s love. You give him your contact information and tell him to call you whenever he needs something. You don’t know what to say or what to think. You want to be optimistic and hope that everything works out for the family. Sometimes though, horrible and selfish as it is, you secretly hope that something else happens and they come back into foster care so they can live with you again. You feel like that’s their only chance to be properly loved and provided for. Then that actually happens, and all over again you don’t know what to say or how to feel.

Foster care is hard. I’ve used 755 words to scratch the surface of the difficulty and unfairness of the foster care system. So why do we do it? Why do people like us choose to be a part of a system that often ends up harming the ones they long to protect? Why would anyone willingly enter the brokenness, frustration, and exhaustion that comes with caring for foster kids? Because that’s what Jesus did. “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:6-8).” We can do hard things (like foster care) because Jesus did hard things. We choose brokenness, frustration, and exhaustion because that’s what Jesus chose. We love because we are loved.

It’s very easy to get burned out working in foster care. It’s a calling that’s incredibly physically, emotionally, and spiritually taxing. But, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9). Sometimes that harvest is a kid knowing what it means to be safe. When a kid says yes when you ask ‘do you know that I love you’, that’s the harvest. It’s easy to become weary, but a random hug from a kid who’s had a bad day gives you hope that your work is not in vain. Foster care really is a beautiful ministry. It’s a system that both meets a short term need and has long term benefits. It’s the hands and feet of Jesus in the trenches of an eternal battle. It’s not glamorous or popular, but it’s needed and rewarding.

I’ll end on an upbeat note. 1 John 4:19 says that we love because He first loved us. We are so loved, beyond anything we can comprehend. Know that you are loved, and there is nothing quite like the love of God. Listen to this song and be happy because of how loved you are.