Persistent Faith in the Waiting

I’ve struggled to write lately. Not because I don’t have words or ideas. But maybe because now that I finally have time to write I’m not sure where to start. Or maybe because we’re in the climax of our adoption journey–our son’s face on my screen, his name in my heart–just waiting for the pronouncement that we can finally go meet him. And maybe, probably, because all my words are tangled up in the angst of the waiting.

I’ve known for some time, however, that I need to tell you about the journey of persistent prayer I’ve been on, because I believe that perhaps this is part of your journey, too.

THE FIRST STEP OF FAITH

Let me introduce you to the Corella of six years ago. My youngest child had just turned two, we felt called to stay in Thailand for the foreseeable future (scratch that–I can’t foresee any future. Let’s just say the indeterminate future, shall we?), and a dear friend introduced me to the idea of adoption while living here. It’s a long process, she had said. But we could start now.

I didn’t feel ready in any capacity, but God’s heart for adoption had been written into ours long before we held our first biological child in our arms, so we moved forward. That was June 2016. We met the social worker, filled out the application, did the fingerprints and psychological evaluation, and waited on the home study. A year and a half later, the home study was complete. It won’t be long now, I hoped.

I read books, rearranged bedrooms, stored hand-me-down clothes, and planned trips all in preparation for the arrival of our newest little one.

THE COST OF WAITING

In early 2018 our social worker left her job. We were transferred to a new social worker who was overburdened with her load and refused to answer any emails or phone calls. She was even “sick” when we flew to Bangkok to visit her. I battled discouragement and anger, but I clung to the belief that our child was worth the cost. The cost of wasted plane tickets. The cost of disappointment. The cost of waiting. I wanted my love for him to be relentless. Reckless, even.

However, over the following two years of silence, I bounced between expectant faith and resigned trust. In those times of fired-up faith, I tried to will our child home. I hoped that more confident prayers would equal more concrete results. But my fervor would eventually collide with my insecurity and I’d find myself in tears as I felt ill-equipped and alone in the battle.

I’d retreat to that comfortable place of trusting in the sovereignty of God. A good place to rest, yes, but a poor excuse for a resigned, weak prayer life.

Eventually, in November of 2020, we received our first communication from this new social worker. She needed updated information so our family could receive official approval to adopt within Thailand. Soon, our application was accepted! And I dared to hope again.

WHAT IS PERSISTENT FAITH?

A few weeks later, we were on a family trip to Chiang Mai when God spoke to me in a dream about our adopted child. I hesitated to believe it was from the Lord. After all, hadn’t I thought I’d heard him two years earlier when I read the angel’s words to Abraham and mistook them for my own? “Is anything too hard for the Lord? I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.” (Gen. 18:14) No, God hadn’t given me a glimpse into our adoption timeline through that verse as I’d hoped, but this dream felt different. Unbidden. It touched on the who rather than the when.

So I took it to prayer, shared it with only those closest to me, and began a quest toward faith unlike any I’d ventured on before.

Simply put: I learned to pray persistently.

I sensed God inviting me to labor alongside him to bring this child home, and what else could that look like from my helpless waiting position besides prayer? Daily, repetitive, won’t-give-up prayer. I grew tired of asking God to move our paperwork to the top of the pile so we would be matched with a child. I bored of requesting health for our social worker and favor from her, and I struggled with the redundant prayers for our child to be safe, held, loved. But I kept asking. Seeking. Knocking. I determined to become the “persistent widow”.

“Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. He said: ‘In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, “Grant me justice against my adversary.”
‘For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, “Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!”’
And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?’” (Luke 18:1-8)

This season of prayer wasn’t exciting or glamorous. It included many difficult but needed discussions. It didn’t really look or feel like what I imagine the faith-filled prayer life to be. But it was authentic. I came to God with no pretense, no forced emotion. I simply told him what I wanted–what I believe He wanted. Again and again.

ANSWERED PRAYERS

In July 2021 we were matched! We said yes to the very superficial information we were given about our little boy and awaited his file where we would learn his name, read about his history, and see his face. For all of our friends who have adopted from here, the period of waiting between the match and the file is roughly a month. For us, one month came and went. Then two. Three. Four. Five. My frustration mounted, but so did my determination to pray.

On December 1, 2021, 5 and a half years after we began the adoption process, we received our child’s file. He’s five and a half years old. He’s been in a safe, Christian environment most of his life. He’s beautiful. And he’s in Chiang Mai, where I received the dream about him.

We don’t know the full of it yet, but I think it’s safe to say that our prayers for this child have been answered. No, not in my timing, but in God’s. 

THE CONTINUAL CALL TO PERSISTENT FAITH

I wish I were concluding this post with the joyful news of when we would be meeting him for the first time, but, instead, I find myself in the ever-growing tension of waiting. Apparently, God is still calling me to persistent prayer. He’s teaching me to stand in the gap between what is and what will be and call my position faith. 

He’s showing me that if Jesus, in his darkest hour, can repeatedly cry out the same words to his Father, so can I (see Matt. 26:36-46). That is undeniable faith.

And yet, Jesus always concluded his plea by saying, “not as I will, but as you will.” That is unbreakable trust.

In all the waiting, in all the praying, God has been forming me, my husband, and my children more into the image of Christ, while simultaneously holding and protecting our adopted son. I may not know the end of this story, but I do know that God has been writing it. And He is the best author.

If you find yourself waiting today, tired of praying the same prayers, wondering if you should let go of a God-given dream, please don’t give up. Don’t let resignation masquerade as faith. Don’t falsify fervency or script a prayer. Just show up. Grab the hem of his garment. Whisper, “please.”

You may be in the middle of a trek through the wilderness and it may yet be years to the promise. 

Or…

You may be marching on day six around Jericho’s walls. Just one more day. One more lap. One more prayer before your sorrow turns into dancing and your tears give way to song.

So clasp your hands and cry out. Then open your palms and breathe, “Your will be done.” And tomorrow? Do it all over again. This, my friends, is persistent faith.