Entitlement 101

In the world of international adoption our adoption of Jonah is a bit unique. Jonah was born in Liberia and we are missionaries who live and minister in Liberia, so our adopted child remains in his home country a majority of the time. Because Jonah looks Liberian and we don't, our treatment of Jonah and his response to that treatment are often scrutinized. This scrutiny has make me painfully aware of the sad, but oh-so-human, tendency to feel entitled. 

"Entitlement" is defined by Merriam-Webster as "the condition of having a right to have, do, or get something: the feeling or belief that you deserve to be given something (such as special privileges)" While Jonah is most often a delight, he can at times, like all of us, begin to display an entitlement mentality. And it has occurred to me if Jonah acts like an entitled child—one who believes by virtue of his existence he deserves good food, nice clothes, a good education, etc., etc., etc.—the Liberians around us will be horrified. Because of this simple reality I have made a great effort to teach Jonah to say please and thank you whenever appropriate. And he is doing a great job.

But even as I teach Jonah to say please and thank you, I am deeply aware from personal experience that entitlement is a heart issue more than a manners issue. If I think I deserve good food, beautiful clothes, a nice house or kind friends, if and when I get any or all of those things I will not be grateful. Furthermore, if I don't get them, I will feel cheated. However, if I understand each of those things is a gift with which God may or may not see fit to bless me, my reaction will be quite different. 

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." If I would be like Christ I must give up my entitlement mentality in exchange for a thankful spirit. If I would be like Christ I must let go of the secular mirage of a pain-free, happy-go-lucky, fully-entitled life. If I would be like Christ I must yield to the One who gives life in abundance—via a cross. 

Image Pixabay "geralt"

See Affair-Proofing My Marriage
See A Childlike Faith

So Very Thankful for My Adoption

Today I was thinking about the things for which I am thankful and many came to mind. First, I have an identical twin sister, a wonderful blessing that has been mine since before birth. 

Nancy and Karen Brushaber - 1960 

Second, I was raised in a stable Christian home and received a good education. 

Nancy, Paul, Karen, Peter, Dan, Melvin and Ellen Brushaber - 1974

Third, in 1980 God gave me a wonderful husband who loves the Lord and loves me.

Fourth, God has blessed Mark and me with five biological children. 

Melodie, Nancy, Heidi, Mark Jared, John-Mark and Nathan - 2003

Fifth, two years ago, after two and a half years in our home as a foster child, Mark and I were able to adopt into our family a new son, Jonah. 

And it was through Jonah's adoption I have come to understand the thing for which I am the very most thankful. My own adoption. 

According to the Bible I am an adopted child of God. My status as His child carries profound implications for my daily life and my eternal future.

1. As God's adopted child, He finds pleasure in me. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love, having predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, by which He has made us accepted in the Beloved. Ephesians 1:3-6

Jonah is dearly loved. I have absolutely no desire for anything but the best for him. If I, being a mere mortal, can love an adopted child with such passion, I insult God to assume His love for His adopted child, me, is less than my love for Jonah. 

2. As God's adopted child, He disciplines me in love. 

Now no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless, afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:11

If Jonah is misbehaving in a group of misbehaving children, I don't discipline the others. I discipline Jonah. He is my son and it is my responsibility. That's a good thing, as is God's loving discipline of me.


3. As God's adopted child, I share in Jesus' inheritance. 

For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs--heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together. Romans 8:15-17

Jonah, along with his five siblings, is an heir of all Mark and I own. But unlike Jonah, who can't count on too much from us, I as an adopted child of God am a coheir with Jesus Christ. Needless to say, the implications are profound.


4. As God's adopted child, I became sister to many new siblings.

But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, Behold, my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother. Matthew 12:48-50

Jonah's adoption brought him into a world peopled with new brothers and sisters. I, too, as a result of our adoption to a common Parent, have many adopted siblings. As Jonah's siblings enrich his life, these spiritual siblings greatly enrich mine.

So this Thanksgiving, above all else, I praise God for my adoption into His family and all that entails. Long after the holiday meal has been eaten and the dishes washed and put away, may I continue to thank God for this most amazing gift.

Jared, Nancy, Mark and Jonah

Shades of Brown

And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us. Acts 17:26-7

Nancy and Jonah - October 2013

A couple of months ago Jonah was helping me make granola. As his little fingers separated gooey, molasses-covered oatmeal chunks and his head was bowed over his work, I heard his sweet voice ask in the softest of whispers, "Did I grow in your tummy?" 

I wasn't absolutely positive I'd heard him. And he didn't look up after his question. 

"Did you ask if you grew in my tummy?" I asked gently.

"Yes," he whispered, still not looking up.

My eyes filled with tears. I hated to answer the question, but knew I must. Bless his heart, Jonah had attached himself to us so completely from his first days with us as a year-old foster baby that it had taken several years for him to question his biological heritage.

Jonah - 2009

So, using a soft voice almost matching his, I answered the question whose answer was at the same time totally heart-breaking and wonderful. God had used another very real young girl to bring Jonah into the world and ultimately into our family. She couldn't care for him and so, like many of his friends, he was adopted into a family that could care for him.

Since then Jonah has asked other questions. And, not surprisingly, one of them has been about the color of his skin. 

"Why is my skin black?" he asked one day. Hmmm. Jonah had obviously heard someone say he was black. 

Of course we had known the day would come when Jonah would start to question why his skin was the darkest in the family, but we hadn't told Jonah his skin was black because it isn't black. Jonah's skin is brown. And Mark's skin is lighter brown than Jonah's skin, and mine lighter than Mark's. 

And how thankful I am I don't have white skin! As sensitive as my Scandinavian skin is to sunlight, I can only imagine how awful it would be if I were truly white. No, my skin is simply a light shade of brown. And Jonah's skin is no more black than mine is white. 

I don't know what Jonah's future holds and I don't know the questions that will come into his mind regarding his biological heritage. But this I do know—skin color should not be a big issue. While Jonah's skin is not the very same as mine or his other family members, neither is it opposite. We all have brown skin. His is simply another shade of brown.

"Uncle Jonah" with Audrey and Noah

For more information, see the article "Are There Really Many Races?" on Answers in Genesis' website.
See On Making Jonah a Sheppard.

See Jonah's Brush with Death.

On Making Jonah a Sheppard

In 1986 I was pregnant with Nathan when Mark and I, along with toddlers John-Mark and Melodie, left Minnesota's cold and snow for mission work in Liberia's never-ending summer.  (Click here.)  It turned out to be a life filled with more adventure and challenge than we could have possibly imagined. Despite many harrowing experiences in the years that followed - a civil war and its subsequent work among the refugees - by God's help we and our children (Heidi and Jared made five) not only survived, we learned to thrive.

Sheppard family - 2003

After nearly twelve years in refugee work in the Ivory Coast, when the war ended and we returned to Liberia our focus was on the training of national leadership. All of these were adults, of course. However, God opened a door for us to touch lives through fostering. With the help of our children we took in numerous Liberian babies and toddlers who were later adopted into the homes of Americans. It was one of the most amazing ministries God ever gave us as missionaries. We had the opportunity to touch a child - in some cases to literally save a life - and then send that little one on to a loving Christian home. During this process, as we were out and about or when people came from the States to be united with their child, we were often asked if we planned to adopt a child ourselves. We always replied by saying that if God wanted us to adopt, He would have to make one child stand out. 

At the end of  2008, after our one year home assignment in the States, we flew back to Liberia with Heidi, Jared and Melodie. Melodie, now a young adult, felt God was leading her back to Liberia to minister in her areas of greatest passion - the discipleship of women and the care of needy children. 

Melodie with neighborhood children - 2009

After a busy Christmas and New Year 2008/2009 conference season in the interior of Liberia we returned to Monrovia, excited and primed to resume fostering. Melodie was already involved in the lives of a group of needy children from a local orphanage and within weeks we had three little boys sharing our home. 

 The day Jonah came to our home - January  2009

Boy #1, Jonah, was an extremely sad, 11-pound, one-year old. He had suffered several serious illnesses and was in desperate need of the love of a family.  Boy #2, Titus, had a similar story. He, too, needed that same special attention as he waited to go to his "forever family." Boy #3, Levi, was a severely handicapped little guy and extremely close to death when he came to us. Our house and hands were full.

At the end of January 2009 an event occurred that would change the course of our lives forever. The Liberian government placed a moratorium on all international adoption. This sent our world, and that of many others, into a spin. I begged God for His mercy on the Liberian children with adoptions in process. I deeply feared for the future of the little boys in our home whom I loved so much. 

Heidi and Titus share a laugh - 2009

In the blackness of the African night I struggled with understanding the promise of Romans 8:28-29. "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren" (NKJV). While I was very familiar with those verses and had seen them played out in my life literally hundreds of times - that ultimate "good" of becoming more like Christ as a result of trial (vs. 29)  -  I could not imagine a scenario produced by the moratorium itself that was anything other than heartbreaking. 

Time passed. After four months, Levi, who was now in great health but whose needs were more than we could handle permanently, went to live in a well-run special needs orphanage. Meanwhile Titus and Jonah learned to crawl, walk, and finally, run. We went through all the toddler stages with them. Finally, because his adoption decree had been signed before the moratorium, sixteen months after his arrival in our home Titus was allowed to go to his adoptive parents. We loved him tremendously, but rejoiced without reservation that the door had opened for him to go to the precious young couple that had prayed and waited so long for him to join their family.

Titus, Nancy, Jonah and Mark (right before Titus was united with his adoptive family) - June 2010

Jonah had no such decree and the moratorium remained in place with no end in sight. One child. One special child to whom we were attached at the heart. It gradually dawned on us that God was doing just what we had said He would have to do for us to know that we were to adopt.  One child was standing out. 

The decision to adopt Jonah was a big one, but, nevertheless, it was much easier decided than done. After waiting and waiting and waiting, through what can only be called a miracle of God's grace, He placed our case and the case of one other missionary family on the heart of the person in the administration of the government of Liberia who could allow an exception. While the moratorium for international adoptions continued, our two families were allowed to proceed as residents to adopt our long-term fostered children. There was no explanation for the mercy being extended to us other than God touching hearts as a result of the thousands upon thousands of prayers that had gone up on behalf of these two little boys. 

The following weeks were a flurry of activity as we did all within our power to prepare the documents necessary to adopt. The home study was done, the case study prepared and personal documents secured. The relevant papers were submitted to a local attorney who prepared the adoption decree to present to the judge. And then more waiting. Several more weeks. But at last, on October 27, we received the signed decree. 

Jonah leads rejoicing after a baptism - January 2011

Two years and nine months after his arrival into our home, Jonah became a Sheppard.  As we look at this precious little boy who has become such an integral part of our lives, we are awestruck at the cleverness of God. Only He could have arranged a situation so perfectly that we would know beyond any shadow of a doubt this child was meant to be ours. 

Years ago, as I agonized over the implications of the moratorium, I could not see how anything good could ever come from it. Ever. But there is no denying it grew us spiritually. And, among other things, through it God allowed me to see a side of my husband I had never seen before as he fought for the hurting children of Liberia. The moratorium also revealed my weakness, an unpleasant but necessary "good."  I, who thought I had grown beyond not trusting God in trying situations (click here and here), learned that certainly was not the case. Over and over I had to give my fear for Jonah's future to God, knowing if I didn't I would be consumed by it. God has been more than faithful and He has taught me, once again, to rest in Him. 

Mark and I are totally humbled by the grace God has poured out on our lives. Despite our fears and doubts, God has used the thing that initially filled our hearts with dread - the moratorium on adoption in Liberia - for good. It is the reason we have a new son. His name is Jonah.  He is our miracle.

Jonah James Sheppard - Oct. 2011

See Jonah's Brush with Death.

See One Grandma's Secret Desire.

Jonah's Brush with Death

We Sheppards are tremendously blessed with good health. Often people around us are sick and it will pass over us completely or we will just get the "lite" version. So after Noah's birth, while John-Mark, Sara and the babies were still staying with us, when the 24-hour flu made its debut and several in the house took turns getting it, we assumed any recipients would have a stomach ache for a while and that would be that.

Our son Jonah came to us in January 2009 as an pathetic, eleven pound one-year old. He was a sweet little guy who, unlike some of the men in the house, was very much in touch with his emotions. It didn't take us long to figure out that, for Jonah, a little pain went a long way. Wails of such intensity that one would assume a limb was being severed would turn to laughter in a matter of seconds.

Nancy and Jonah - 2009

So on Tuesday, June 25, 2013, when Jonah spent the day on the couch complaining of stomach pain, we babied him but were not overly concerned. After all, it was a 24-hour flu. At night, when he turned down his much-loved bedtime routine, we knew he was really feeling lousy. Additionally, we were surprised when Jonah, rather than instantly falling asleep like he normally does, cried piteously and asked me to put my hand on his abdomen and rub lightly. I felt badly he had a worse case of the flu than I had gone through a few days before, but assumed he would be much better in the morning.

The next two days Jonah spent on the couch, complaining of a stomachache and quite listless. At 3 a.m. Friday when we had an exact repeat of Tuesday night, we became truly alarmed. Jonah is a very heavy sleeper and it was stunning he was awake at that hour—and extremely disturbing that he was complaining of the very same pain in the very same place as he had two nights before.

We realized, of course, we should have taken him to the doctor already and if we had been in the States we would have rushed him to an emergency room. But, being in Liberia, we knew there was no place we could take him where anything meaningful would happen before morning. We did all we could to comfort him and eventually Jonah drifted back to sleep.

We were at the ELWA clinic ready to see Dr. Debbie Eisenhut, a missionary doctor with SIM mission, at around 8:30. Jonah was in pain, breathing rapidly, but, thankfully, uncharacteristically stoic. Within five minutes of entering her office, Dr. Debbie diagnosed Jonah with appendicitis. Previously scheduled elective procedures were pushed aside to make room for Jonah and within two hours he was in surgery. Mark and I were told to wait in an area near the operating room.

Dr. Debbie Eisenhut

About an hour and a half after Jonah went into surgery, Dr. Debbie appeared. I don't remember her first sentence, but I believe she said that the appendix had been successfully removed. The second sentence was something like, "Jonah is in respiratory distress and you have twenty minutes to figure out how to get him medically evacuated out of this country."

Mark grabbed his cell phone and began gathering information about a flight. He called local and international friends who could spread the message that Jonah was in urgent need of prayer. We were then rushed to the operating room and found ourselves standing next to Jonah as he struggled to breathe, his mouth contorted as he inhaled in huge, impossibly difficult, gasps. He was taking 48 breaths a minute and his oxygen saturation levels would tumble if the oxygen mask was lifted off his face even half an inch. Additionally, he wasn't waking up from the surgery. As Mark and I watched, periodically trying to wake him, we prayed. Our prayers basically consisted of two words—"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" with a sprinkling of "please, please, please." It was totally surreal.

Eventually the gasping was not as dramatic and Mark carried a limp Jonah from the operating room to a room on the ward, a trail of equipment following close behind. For the next hours, as Mark continued the stream of phone calls necessary to get an air ambulance to Liberia, Dr. Debbie and I watched Jonah's troubled breathing, secured his mask around his nose if it moved, and stared at the numbers on the little machine that measured oxygen levels.

At six o'clock everything changed. In an instant Jonah stopped breathing the pathetic, short little breaths and, for the first time, looked like he was sleeping normally. I pulled the mask up a bit. The oxygen saturation levels, rather than tumbling, remained high. And then, Jonah woke up. Dr. Debbie, Mark and I were relieved beyond words and rejoiced, praising God for the miracle we were witnessing.

From that moment on the recovery was normal for abdominal surgery. With great relief, the air ambulance flight was called off.  I stayed with Jonah at the hospital and Jonah was his normal, darling, dramatic self. Two days later he was dismissed in good spirits, well on his way to a full recovery.

Jonah immediately before dismissal from the hospital on Sunday, June 30, 2013

We praise God for the thousands of people across the globe who held hands with us as this crisis unfolded. We truly felt carried by the prayers of God's people and we owe to everyone who prayed a great debt of gratitude. Additionally, we thank God with all of our hearts for sparing Jonah and allowing us the continued, awesome and on-going privilege of having him as our son.

Jared, Nancy, Mark and Jonah

To God be all the glory!

See On Making Jonah a Sheppard.
See Prayer: If You Will Ask
See One Grandma's Secret Desire.