Adopted by Love

“Honey, I’ve been thinking.”

From the tone of her voice, I knew this was not going to be a casual conversation.

My wife motioned for me to sit beside her, and slowly turned her laptop toward me. On the screen was the picture of a young girl I had never met. Her dark, unevenly cut hair framed an anxious face, and her penetrating brown eyes seemed to look straight through me.

“We could host this girl for Christmas,” my wife said gently, “and give her a chance to experience what it’s like to be part of a family.”

I stared at the picture, torn between two powerful emotions. On the one hand, I felt deep compassion for this child. On the other, I felt fear—fear of what this might cost us and how it might upend our carefully ordered lives. Welcoming a stranger into our home, for even a short time, felt risky.

And yet, a month later we found ourselves embracing her at the airport.

Becoming a Family

She stayed with us for three weeks. On the morning before her return flight, she took some chalk and walked out to our driveway. There she drew a large heart. Inside the heart she wrote the names of each member of our family—and then added her own name alongside ours. Beneath it all, she wrote one word: сімя, the Ukrainian word for family.

As we stood there looking at that chalk drawing, none of us could speak. We knew something had changed.

That summer we invited her back, and not long after, we made the decision to begin the adoption process. When people heard what we were planning, their reactions were mixed. Some asked sincere questions: “Is this a good idea?” “What will this do to your family?” Others were more openly skeptical. Even the boarding school where she lived seemed surprised. Her teachers expressed genuine confusion about why we would want to adopt this child—one they considered difficult and troubled.

Why adopt a child?

Our answer was simple: We love her.

That is also the reason God adopts us.

The apostle John captures the wonder of this truth when he writes, “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1). God looked upon us—wounded by sin, shaped by trauma, and far from home—and chose to bring us into His family. Not because we were model children. Not because we had earned a place. But because He loved us.

Our experience with adoption has given us a small glimpse into the heart of God. Whatever compassion and tenderness we felt toward our daughter was only a faint reflection of God’s immeasurable love for us. Ellen White expressed it beautifully:

“What love, what matchless love, that, sinners and aliens as we are, we may be brought back to God and adopted into His family! . . . All the paternal love which has come down from generation to generation through the channel of human hearts . . . are but as a tiny rill to the boundless ocean, when compared with the infinite, exhaustless love of God.”[1]

Adoption Changes Our Past

Scripture presents adoption as a work of grace with profound consequences. First, adoption changes our past. It moves us from bondage to freedom, from fear to belonging. Paul writes that we are “no longer a slave but a son” (Gal. 4:7). Our status changes completely. We move from slavery to royalty.

But adoption is never cheap.

My wife and I quickly learned that adoption is costly. There were tens of thousands of dollars in expenses, hundreds of hours of paperwork, countless interviews, and later, many more hours spent helping our daughter process deep emotional wounds. When you love an orphan, you sacrifice for them.

God did the same.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” (John 3:16). These familiar words describe the greatest act of adoption the universe has ever known. God gave His one Son so that He could have many sons and daughters. Calvary—the deepest pain in the heart of God—was also the place of His greatest joy.

This is better than Eden, because it is not just Paradise restored—it is family secured.

Understanding God’s compassionate love changes everything. It tells me that no matter how I have messed up, ’fessed up, or tried to dress myself up to look better than I am, God loves me as His adopted child.

One day, not long after our daughter joined our family, she did something she knew she wasn’t supposed to do—and then lied about it. When the truth finally came out, she was overwhelmed with fear. Through tears she asked, “Are you sad that you adopted me?”

“We are disappointed that you made this choice,” we told her honestly, “but that doesn’t change our love for you.”

Our heavenly Father feels the same way. God is grieved by sin, but He does not stop loving His children. Even knowing all our failures in advance, He “predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself” and “made us accepted in the Beloved” (Eph. 1:5, 6). From the very beginning Jesus was determined to enter our broken world and bring humanity into God’s family.

No wonder Paul asks, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (Rom. 8:35).

Adoption Transforms Our Present

I still remember the first time our daughter gave me a card and signed it, “I love you, Daddy.” I’ll admit, I cried. We had seen a response to our deep love for her. As Ellen White once wrote: “Only by love is love awakened.”[2] Love heals trauma, and God’s gracious compassion transforms us from the inside out.

Paul writes, “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’ ” (Rom. 8:15). Once we are adopted, God becomes not just Lord, but Father.

Paul uses both Aramaic and Greek here for a reason. Abba was the word Jesus Himself used in the Garden of Gethsemane (see Mark 14:36), a term of deep intimacy and trust. Because Jesus cried out to His Father in His darkest moment, believers throughout history have echoed that same cry in prayer.

When fear presses in, when I feel overwhelmed or cornered, I remember that I belong to God’s family. I lift my heart and pray, “Abba, Father, please help me!” And I sense His tender compassion, as real and comforting as when I have held my own children.

One evening our daughter played us a song about a mother. As the melody and haunting lyrics filled the room, something inside her broke. Memories of her mother’s death and the years of abandonment that followed came rushing to the surface. She collapsed into sobs, and we held her as she cried—our tears mingling with hers.

Adoption not only redeems the past; it reshapes the present. Love transforms and heals.

Adoption is not a single moment. It is a process. Our daughter had to leave her country, her friends, and her familiar culture to take on a new identity. It was beautiful—and it was messy.

She had to learn that behaviors normal in her old life—swearing, smoking, drinking—were not part of her new family culture. She no longer had to shout, fight, or lie to survive. She could trust that she was loved and that we wanted what was best for her. Over time, love transformed her, and she began to flourish.

For the child of God, this ongoing transformation is called sanctification. As adopted sons and daughters, we bear God’s name and learn to live in a way that reflects His character.

Unless we choose to believe and accept Jesus, we cannot claim our place in His family.

We want to honor the Father who saved us.

“Just as in the ancient world all sons, including those who had been adopted, were expected to behave in a manner that would not discredit their father or besmirch the family name, so it is the responsibility for spiritually adopted sons belonging to the divine household to live scrupulously and blamelessly by bringing glory to their holy, heavenly Father.”[3]

Adoption Secures Our Future

Finally, adoption gives us an astonishing future. “The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God,” Paul writes, “and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ” (Rom. 8:16, 17).

Our daughter knows that everything that belongs to our family belongs to her as well. She shares fully in our love and care. In the same way, God invites us into the inheritance of His Son. We who were once slaves are now sons and daughters of the King.

Paul goes even further. He says that all creation is “eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body” (Rom. 8:23). One day adoption will be complete. Our broken bodies and weary minds will be restored. We will be made whole, and the universe itself will rejoice.

Two years ago our daughter gave her heart to Jesus and was baptized. Next year she will be married. The fruit of love and adoption is a beautiful young woman living for God.

And still, the story does not end there.

Paul says that we are “heirs of God” (Rom. 8:17). God Himself is our inheritance. One day we will live with Him in perfect intimacy forever. This is better than Eden, because it is not just Paradise restored—it is family secured.

Adoption Is a Choice

It is hard to imagine our family without our adopted daughter. Without her contagious laughter and joyful spirit, something essential would be missing. Our table would feel strangely empty.

Scripture reminds us that adoption is a gift—but it is also a choice. Not everyone is adopted.

When our daughter stood in court, she had to tell the judge whether she wanted to become part of our family. If she had said no, the chair prepared for her would have remained vacant. She almost did. For a moment she considered choosing her familiar world—her friends, her past—over the unknown future being offered to her.

The Bible presents the same sobering reality. “But to all who believed Him and accepted Him, He gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12, NLT).[4] God’s love is freely offered, but it must be received. Unless we choose to believe and accept Jesus, we cannot claim our place in His family.

What a tragedy it would be to leave that place empty! To refuse the love that calls us home. How the heart of God must ache at the thought of sons and daughters who never take their seat at His table.

Adoption is a love story, but its ending is not automatic. It depends on our response. Will we allow God’s love to transform us? Will we embrace both the privileges and the responsibilities of belonging to His family? Or will we cling to old identities and familiar comforts?

The invitation has been extended. The place has been prepared. The final chapter is still being written.

Will we choose it?

[1] Ellen G White, My Life Today (Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Pub. Assn., 1952), p. 289.

[2] Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1940), p. 22.

[3] Trevor J. Burke, Adopted Into God’s Family, New Studies in Biblical Theology (Downers Grove, Ill.: IVP Academic, 2006), vol. 22, p. 43.

[4] Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.