Adoption

Back in 1987, we had one of those Appalachian floods that reminds you real quick that these mountains don’t just hold water—they funnel it. Everything that falls up high eventually makes its way down low, and when it does, it doesn’t stop to ask permission or check on your plans. Houses get flooded, folks get displaced, and trouble shows up like a drunk uncle who never knocks and never leaves on time.

Now, we were blessed, because our house sat up on high ground. Truth be told, if the water had ever made it to my childhood home, you’d better start looking for an ark and hope you know a fellow named Noah personally. Elevation mattered, sure, but what made that hill even better than the view was the neighbors who lived on it.

We had the kind of neighbors folks write country songs about. Kids ran through everybody’s yard like property lines were just a suggestion, and any adult nearby had the right to straighten you out if you got sideways, even if your parents weren’t home, because that’s just how community worked.

Then this flood came, and a few days after the water went down, this dog wandered up onto our hill. He was a curly haired, brown and black, mixed up something, and you could tell just by looking at him that life had already taken a few good swings. His tongue had burn marks on it, which we didn’t understand at the time, but later realized he hated fireworks and would try to grab them to put them out. It was clear he’d been through more than a casual Sunday stroll. He hung around long enough that the neighbors did what good people tend to do—they took him in and named him Curly.

This family had three kids. They worked hard, lived right, and by all appearances, God had blessed them for it. They had one of the newest gadgets of the day, including that fancy Intellivision with the Intellivoice, which, if you grew up in the ’80s, you know was about as close to high technology as landing on the moon. Somehow, like ole curly, they treated me like one of their own, and I was better for it.

But here is what happened to the fellow. That dog went from wandering, burned, and unwanted to living the good life. Fed well, taken to the vet, taken to the groomer, and surrounded by kids, laughter, and a home that expected him to stay. Somewhere along the way, Curly didn’t just find a place to stay—he got adopted. He belonged.

And that right there paints a better picture of the Gospel than a lot of folks ever stop to realize.

Because when I think about adoption, I don’t think about perfection or performance. I think about Curly being brought in, not because he earned it, but because somebody chose him.

Most of us, if we’re honest, walk around with a quiet little scoreboard rattling around in our heads. We figure if we work hard enough, behave well enough, and keep our mess tucked just out of sight, then maybe—just maybe—God will look down, tally it all up, and say, “Alright, you made the cut. Come on in.”

But Scripture says something different.

“None is righteous, no, not one.”

— Romans 3:10 (ESV)

And just to make sure we didn’t miss it:

“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

— Romans 3:23 (ESV)

That heavenly scoreboard we imagine isn’t broken—it just never shows a winning number on our side.

Which means the only way to relationship with God and eternal life with Him isn’t earning it.

It’s adoption.

It’s that moment when the Holy Spirit pulls back the curtain and lets you see your need for a Savior—not in theory, not in church talk, but down deep where it unsettles you. That’s when you quit negotiating with God and finally surrender. You come to Christ not as someone who’s earned a place, but as someone who needs one. Not as someone who has a good score but someone who realizes I am lost and in trouble.

Kind of like old Curly.

That dog didn’t fill out an application. He didn’t clean himself up first. He just realized he was without a home and future and somebody who had means and love was willing to take care of him, and he was all in.

And Scripture tells us that’s exactly what God has done.

“God sent forth his Son… to redeem.” Galatians 4:4–5 (ESV)

And the reason He did it? “So that we might receive adoption as sons.” Galatians 4:5 (ESV)

That’s not temporary shelter. That’s family.

John says it like this: “That we should be called children of God.” 1 John 3:1 (ESV)

Not hired hands. Not visitors. Children.

And Paul reminds us that when that truth sinks in, it changes how we speak to God: “You have received the Spirit of adoption.” Romans 8:15 (ESV) That’s not formal language. That’s belonging. That’s crying out to God like a child who knows he’s home and the great news for us is the invitation is still open.

“If you confess with your mouth… and believe in your heart.” Romans 10:9 (ESV) When you are lost you don't bring anything to that table but faith. Faith in the finished work of Christ dying on the cross to pay for our sin. Faith in Jesus Christ then raising on the third day to confirm the debt is paid.

“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Romans 10:13 (ESV) This house has got room for everyone no matter if you come from pure bred stock or junk yard dog background. Jesus will take you in and clean you up!

So let me ask you like you’re sitting right here with me: Have you been adopted?

Because just like Curly, you don’t earn your way into the family. You get invited in—fully known, fully loved, and fully adopted. Here is the invitation receive Him today.

Now if you have accepted Christ today here are some things you need to do:

1. Make it public. Jesus said in Matthew 10:32 that if you acknowledge Him before men, He’ll acknowledge you before the Father. Don’t tuck your faith away like loose change in your pocket. Let it be seen.

2. Get in a Bible-believing church. Get around people who know the Word and live it and ask questions and grow.

3. Be baptized. Romans 6:4 says it’s a picture… buried with Christ, raised to walk in new life.

4. Get in the Bible. Daily. Some days you’ll understand it, some days you’ll scratch your head, but over time it’ll start shaping you like water shapes stone.

5. Don’t try to do this alone. Faith was never meant to be a solo hunt. You need a church. You need people walking alongside you.

Because the same God who adopted you…He didn’t bring you in just to leave you wandering around the yard. But he wants to take you to the groomer because you are part of this family and a good neighborhood!