In my morning devotions the other day, God ministered to me greatly through the story in Matthew 14 of Peter’s attempt to walk on the water with Jesus. What struck me in reading this very familiar story was that there were two different ways in which Peter demonstrated faith.

It’s the middle of the night. It’s dark. It’s windy. The disciples are in their boat on the wind-tossed lake. Jesus comes to them, walking on the water, and they’re rightfully terrified. Jesus tells them it is He, so they need not be afraid. Peter, being the impetuous guy that he is, says “Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water.” So Jesus replies, perhaps with a twinkle in His eye, “Come.”

Peter’s first demonstration of faith is in response to this command to come to Jesus. And it seems like this “kind” of faith is an impetuous, exciting, risk-taking faith. It’s a faith that requires you to get out of the boat and do something you thought was impossible. But Jesus is calling, so it’s an obedient faith also.

To stay in the boat would have required no faith. But Peter didn’t stay in the boat—he got out and walked on the water toward Jesus. He demonstrated this exciting, risk-taking faith by trusting Jesus enough to set aside what was comfortable and known and step into (or should I say “onto”) what was unknown and risky.

But the wind was strong and the waves were choppy, and Peter’s impetuous, bold faith quickly disintegrated into fear. And then, he began to sink.

I don’t know whether this was slow-motion sinking (like a cartoon) or whether this was immediate (as if he had jumped into a pool), and I don’t know how submerged he was before he cried out these words, but cry out he did: “Lord, save me!” All the times that I’ve read this story or heard it taught, the focus is placed on the contrast between Peter’s faith to get out of the boat and his fear and doubt that made him start to sink. But what struck me this time was that there was another “kind” of faith demonstrated in this moment too as Peter begins to sink.

This second demonstration of faith is not the glamorous, courageous, I’ll-leave-everything-to-follow-You kind of faith. No, this second demonstration of faith is a faith born out of desperation. It is the faith that comes when you are sinking and there is no other hope except to cry out “Lord, have mercy on me—save me!”

How do I know this desperate cry is a cry of faith? Well, Peter was a strong, capable fisherman, not a wobbly-kneed 6-year-old jumping into the deep end for the first time. He’d probably had his share of close calls and swallowed many a mouthful of lake water. So his natural instinct when starting to sink would likely be to start treading water or strike out swimming toward the boat. But that’s not what he does. His immediate focus is on Jesus, and he cries out to his Lord to save him. That is faith…a faith born out of desperation and need.

Before Jesus chides Peter for his doubt, He first responds to Peter’s desperate faith by reaching out His hand and with His strong carpenter’s arm draws His friend the fisherman out of the cold, deep water.

This story resonates deeply with me. Jesus gave a call to our family to adopt a precious special-needs girl, and we responded in faith—the first kind of faith, the dangerous, risk-taking faith. We stepped out of the boat, onto the water, jumped through all the hoops of adoption, and now Anah is in our family. But now we’re seeing the wind and the waves—we’re realizing what this decision actually costs us in time and energy and many changes in our family—and the doubts start to come. Not necessarily doubts of whether we should have done this or not, because God’s call was clear then and still is clear now, but rather doubts and fears of whether we’re going to be able to handle all this. It feels sometimes like we’re sinking. And our natural instincts to work harder and longer aren’t getting us back to the surface.

But in our desperation, there is a deeper faith that is being formed in us as we learn to daily cry out to Jesus for deliverance and help and strength and grace, moment by moment. And that same strong arm of the Carpenter is right there to draw us up out of the depths and give us what we need for another hour, another day, another week. Truly He is sufficient. Truly He is good.

Trusting desperately,

Pastor Dan

If I do not intentionally notice and rejoice in the little moments of God’s mercy and kindness to me, I end up drowning in self-pity or despair and my heart gets tangled up in resentment and cynicism. So here is an unfinished list, which was started before Thanksgiving, of some of the ways I am noticing God’s “little” mercies, primarily in the context of caring for our recently adopted (and disabled) daughter, Anah. I share this as an encouragement to you to make your own ongoing list, but also as a discipline to remind myself of God’s faithful presence even in the midst of difficult times.

These are some little moments of God’s mercy:

• Receiving an unexpected phone call from my sister (who also has a child with Down Syndrome)—being encouraged by someone who I know truly understands what we’re going through.

• Having two primary care doctors who love Jesus and are very generous with their time, and who were even willing to make house calls to do some of Anah’s initial assessments.

• During our homeschool group PE class, having another dad hang out with Anah so that I could play Capture the Flag with the older kids.

• Walking this road of adoption and special-needs with 3 other families, and sharing warm hugs, many tears, and encouraging words together.

• Experiencing strangers who engage with Anah and tell her how beautiful she is (rather than shying away in uncomfortableness).

• Communing deeply with God on a Sunday morning through the worship songs “Jesus, Thank You” and “All I Have is Christ”.

• Enjoying a couple hours of “respite” at home while another family took all four of our kids to the park.

• A 20-minute bath for Anah, in which she played happily without making the usual flood of water on the bathroom floor.

• Meeting a kind lady in the line at the Costco optometry department, who let us go in front of her to order glasses for Anah.

• Having a gracious receptionist at our primary care doctor’s office, who knows our family by name and goes out of her way to deal with insurance complications and make all the needed arrangements for the many referrals for Anah’s care.

To be continued…because God’s little (and big) mercies are new every morning…

In Him,

Pastor Dan

Parenting is hard. I’ve been a parent for almost 16 years now, so I’ve dealt with my share of sleepless nights and poopy diapers, temper tantrums and disobedience, puberty and peer pressure. So when God called us to adopt a 7-year-old little girl with Down Syndrome, I knew it would be a challenge, but I had no idea how hard it would really be.

With the birth of each child, God was gracious to reveal sin and selfishness in my own heart, and as each child has grown, God has gradually changed my heart to reflect a little more of His. But Anah Joy came into our family not as a helpless infant, but kind of like a 3-year-old baby in a 7-year-old body. Developmentally, she is like a toddler. In terms of communication, we’re starting at ground zero like an infant. But in strength and stubbornness and established habits, she’s seven years old. So all of a sudden, this “experienced” parent of 3 children is feeling completely incompetent and unprepared to adequately care for this beautiful little girl that is now my daughter. And if the process of parenting the other three has shown the “flashlight” of God’s grace on the sin in my heart, then the process of parenting this one has turned on the “floodlight” to reveal how desperately I need God’s grace and strength and help.

Our homeschool group met today and in between chasing our kids around I got a few minutes to talk with Pastor Jon Hori (who has also recently adopted), and I was encouraged to hear that I’m not alone in this experience. He mentioned that he had blogged about this, so I read his blog tonight (http://nearhisheart.wordpress.com/2012/10/16/adoption-is-easy/) and would encourage you to read it as well.

The solution to this is NOT to avoid adopting an older special needs child. The solution is NOT to not have any children at all. No, the solution is to look again at the Gospel and to see the depths of what God gave up in order to adopt us into His family, to realize how stubborn and sinful and dependent we are, and how sacrificial and strong and gracious His love toward us is. Parenting is hard. But it pales in comparison to the Cross. I struggle to let go of my self-centered desires. Christ’s desires were not self-centered, yet even He had to let go of those desires in order to obey the design of His Father (Matthew 26:39).

Parenting is hard. But God uses the crucible of parenting to purify our hearts and to give us more and more of His heart. May we learn to trust Him deeply in that process…

Pastor Dan

For every verse like Proverbs 6:6 (“Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise”) there is also a verse like Matthew 11:28 (“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”). Scripture is full of commands to work hard and warnings against laziness. And Scripture is also full of commands to rest and warnings against depending on our own strength.

So how do we reconcile work and rest? We probably more naturally gravitate toward one or the other, in which case we probably tend to notice and emphasize the corresponding Scripture passages, but God emphasizes both in His Word, so how are we to understand that tension between work and rest? And more importantly, how do we live that out in the midst of a culture that rewards overwork and idolizes empty leisure?

In Matthew 11:28 and Mark 6:31, Jesus says to come to Him and receive rest in Him. Hebrews 4:10 speaks of entering God’s rest. So one thing that is clear is that the rest God calls us to in rest in Him and with Him, not apart from Him or on our own. In a similar way, Paul says in Colossians 1:29 “For this I toil, struggling with all His energy that He powerfully works within me.” So the work that God calls us to is also in Him and with His energy.

So when work is called for—and not just a work that benefits myself, but work that cares for and provides for others—then I need to work hard. But that hard work is with Christ (i.e. “in His yoke”), it is by His grace (I Cor 15:10), and with His energy. Then in that work I need to know when to stop laboring and trust Him enough to rest. So both work and rest need to be in Him, dependent on His energy and His grace and His provision.

What does that look like then in everyday life? I don’t know exactly because I’m still trying to learn how to live with this tension, but lately in my life, this has been expressed in lots of little decisions, such as laying down to rest on Sunday afternoon instead of immediately starting into the next task on my to-do list. Or the many times my heart has cried out “God, I can’t do this. I don’t have the strength to give this person what they need right now” and then doing it and trusting Him to provide. Or sticking with my commitment to “date night” with my wife rather than brushing it off in order to get a few more jobs done.

So work hard—Scripture commands it! And rest deeply—Scripture commands that too! But whether you’re working or resting, do it with Christ, depending on His energy and trusting His provision.

In Him,

Pastor Dan

Here’s another quote from the book I’ve been reading:

“To live on purpose…requires paying attention, and paying attention means—almost by definition—that we make room for surprise. We become hospitable to interruption. I doubt we can notice for long without this hospitality. And to sustain it we need theological touchstones for it—a conviction in our bones that God is Lord of our days and years, and that his purposes and his presence often come disguised as detours, messes, defeats.

I came to you naked, Jesus says. I came to you thirsty.

“When, Lord?” we ask, startled.

When he wore the disguise of an interruption.

Think for a moment of all the events and encounters that have shaped you most deeply and lastingly. How many did you see coming? How many did you engineer, manufacture, chase down?

And how many were interruptions?

Children? You might have planned as meticulously as a NASA rocket launch, but did you have any idea, really, what it would be like, who this child in your arms really was, who you would become because of him or her? The span between life as we intend it and life as we receive it is vast. Our true purpose is worked out in that gap. It is fashioned in the crucible of interruptions.”

Mark Buchanan, The Rest of God, ©2006, Thomas Nelson, pp 80-81.

I love that: our Life is formed in the crucible of interruptions. Well, let me rephrase that—I love that as a concept, but I don’t usually love it when it’s actually happening. Like I said before, this is crunch time, and I get really focused (ahem, read that as “tunnel vision, block everyone else out”) on the tasks in front of me, and then don’t respond very well when the interruptions come (usually in the form of certain family members seeking my attention).

But it’s in those 1001 little decisions, to be present and engaged or to brush off and be annoyed, where our character is being formed. Yes, the “big interruptions”—like my family’s decision to adopt—do bring significant change in us, but more often it’s the little everyday interruptions that over time begin to shape our heart and character.

So the next time you get interrupted—maybe right now as you are trying to finish reading this post—pay attention. Before immediately brushing it off, pay attention to what God might be bringing to you in this interruption. Who knows, it may turn out to be a wonderful, gracious gift from your loving Father.

In Him,

Pastor Dan