Tetelestai

A few weeks ago, on Good Friday, I received an email that explained the importance of Jesus' words on the cross.  He said "tetelestai" which means "it is finished" (John 19:30).  The email went on to explain that the Greek word tetelestai is an accounting term that means paid in full.  It means that there is nothing left that is owed or needs to be done.  As I read that email, I praised God that there was nothing else that I needed to do to gain or earn salvation.  I rejoiced that I had peace in my relationship with God because it does not depend on me or my actions because Jesus has already paid my debt in full.  What is I wasn't secure and I thought there was more that I had to do to earn it or if I feared that something I did would make me lose my salvation?  That is when it clicked that this is what my son fears regarding his adoption.  He doesn't feel secure that it has been paid in full so to speak.  He is afraid that it can be undone and that we will give him up.  This fear isn't completely unfounded because at his previous home he was lied to and told that he was adopted.  And then they gave him back to CPS.  So although he has been with us for nearly two years and officially adopted for almost one, he still lives in fear.  He is afraid that if he is bad enough that we will get rid of him.  This causes him to test our patience and consistently break the rules.  This causes him to lie and accuse his siblings of things they haven't done in order to get them in trouble.  This fear also causes him to want attention and approval so he tries to compete to be the best and "one up" his siblings.  He feels the need to be the loudest or funniest or fastest or whatever "est" is applicable at the moment.  

The peace and security I have in Christ is the exact opposite of the anxiety and fear my son feels.  The problem we have is convincing him that we are telling the truth, the judge was telling the truth, his counselor is telling him the truth.  Our prayer is that sooner rather than later, he will finally believe us and relax and enjoy his permanent place in our family.  That we love him for who he is.  That we love him no matter what he does.

This simple word "tetelestai" is one that I have heard before; however, it has never meant more to me than now.  How simple the concept, yet how profound.  The words Christ spoke as the life left his body are life changing, life-giving for me.

....He sacrificed himself once and for all, summing up all the other sacrifices in this sacrifice of himself, the final solution of sin. Everyone has to die once, then face the consequences. Christ’s death was also a one-time event, but it was a sacrifice that took care of sins forever. And so, when he next appears, the outcome for those eager to greet him is, precisely, salvation.

Hebrews 9:26b-28 (The Message Bible)

Broken

I don't know how I got the idea.  Maybe someone alluded to it in one of our foster parent training sessions, but regardless of how it developed, I had convinced myself that most of the boys' issues would be resolved once they were adopted.  I believed that once they were assured that they were forever safe and loved that they would not struggle as much.  And although things are much better than they were at the beginning, there are still a few big struggles that confront us daily.
A couple weeks ago, I was grumpy.  I couldn't nail down why I was in such a bad mood, but there was no denying that I was snapping at everyone.  As the day progressed, and I began to take off my Oscar the Grouch persona, I tried to figure out what made me so irritable.  I realized that it was the disappointment of not being able to get a break that day from the struggle.  I was tired of the daily struggle.  I realized that when I look at my son, I sometimes am just waiting for the next lie or the next battle.  And I was tired.  
That night in church as I sat listening to Sheila Walsh's testimony of abuse and the consequential struggles she faced for years, I began to be overwhelmed by the realization that my son may be struggling with the effects of his abuse for years.  There wasn't going to be an easy fix by just swearing before a judge that we loved him and would never get rid of him because he did something bad.  There is not going to be a magical conversation that I am going to have with him that will heal him of all his fears.  This is a long, hard, tiring road.  He is broken, and I can't fix him.
When I felt like the weight of his broken world was on my shoulders, our pastor began a special prayer time.  He asked that those of us who needed prayer stand.  I remember wanting to pull my son up to his feet.  Then our pastor said we could stand up for someone else who needed prayer.  And as I rose to my feet, standing in place of my son, the tears began to fall.  Tears for all the indescribable pain he had to endure and now try and move past.  Tears for the times when I failed to be as patient with him as I should be.  Tears for the years of struggle that lie ahead of us.
The band began to play the song "Stronger" and it was a song that spoke to me when we were wondering if Isabella would leave.  I love that it reminds me that God is stronger than any stronghold I might face.  He is stronger than any stronghold my child battles.  The bridge of the song says "Let His name be lifted higher," and that has been my prayer in each step of this fostering/adopting journey.  I want God's name to be lifted higher as a result of our steps of faith.   I have seen God do amazing things to bring us these three wonderful children, things that are only attributable to Him.  Now I must take comfort that He will also do the same with my son.  Although it may be years down the road, I hold on to the hope that God will get the glory for the healing in that precious boys' heart.
So we press on knowing that God takes what is broken and makes it new.