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"God’s Child — 200 Percent"
There was, as the story goes, an old woodcarver by the name of Geppetto. One day, being very lonely, he chiseled a puppet and called him Pinnochio. And it happened that Pinnochio was given life with the promise that if he proved himself, he would become a boy; not a wooden facsimile, but a real human being.

Pinnochio is a story of mid-life crisis. Not the chronological crisis associated with a person’s fortieth birthday, or change of vocation; but the spiritual crisis associated with a specific line of internal inquiry, of “soul-searching”, of self-examination. It is the crisis which prompts questions of identity, purpose, and meaning.

“Am I worthy of love?”
“Am I able to return love?”
“Can I transform my life and rearrange its pieces?”
“Why can’t I become the person I really want to be?”

This is the crisis of Pinnochio, and though we enjoy it as a fairy tale, we retell it since it seeks to provide answers to these Universal Questions of our lives.

Similarly — John, the disciple, wrote to men and women caught in spiritual mid-life. They had heard of Jesus and had begun a new life in him. They met together for worship and identified themselves as Christians. They had had exciting experiences and had seen the power and love of the Holy Spirit. Yet unresolved doubts clouded their faith, unanswered prayers diminished their hope, and unreconciled differences diluted their love. Their experience of the risen Lord Jesus became a Pinnochio experience — half human, half wooden; half authentic, half contrived; half filled with hope, half beset by discouragement. These are the people to whom the Apostle John addressed himself and for whom he contrasted human doubt and insecurity with the certainty and assurance of Jesus Christ. “I write this,” he stated, “so that you may know that you have eternal life.” (I John 5:13) He assumed that one could be confident of a relationship with Christ, and that such confidence was not for extraordinary Christians, not a mark of the super-religious only, not presumption nor arrogance, but was part of a normal Christian’s experience. Such confidence rests upon knowing that we are children of God and it is this truth — that we can be God’s special children — that John underlined again and again. Those who receive Christ are, completely and undeniably, children of God. Doubly children in fact. Twice over, God’s two hundred percent family.

In the first place John said: “We are God’s children now.” That is an amazing statement, and was no less amazing then as it is now. However, it is important that we understand on what basis John considered it to be true. We examine the lives of Christians, even notable and outstanding Christians, and wonder what on earth this phrase — Children of God — can mean! Certainly it does not imply perfect, trouble-free, universally beautiful and admired people. It does not mean people who biologically appear from heaven, perform mind-boggling and miraculous feats, exemplify impeccable moral judgment, and then at the end of life, simply vanish into heaven again. In fact, it does not imply that we resemble God at all!

The declaration by John — that we are God’s children — amazes us because we know ourselves to be different from God. God’s thoughts are not our thoughts. God’s ways are not our ways. God’s righteousness is not our righteousness. I have a son, Daniel, who is two years old. And he is quite a terror. He laughs, shrieks, and chatters endlessly; has unlimited energy; makes totally unreasonable demands on our family; is constantly the center of attention; and insists upon doing everything his own way. In other words, he behaves just like his daddy! He is a little Henning, already he looks like, acts like, and reflects — personifies — who I am (and who Molly is)! He is our child through and through.

Yet we cannot declare that of God’s children. We look at ourselves and look at God and are overwhelmed at the discrepancy between us. Aesop told a fable about a donkey who discovered the skin of a lion which had been discarded by hunters. And wrapping it around himself, he stalked and prowled through the neighborhood, sending everyone into panic. He was so pleased with himself that he attempted a fierce roar but instead he only brayed. Our nature is no closer to God than a donkey’s is to a lion! We are not “little Gods” as Daniel is a little Henning. And we know how deeply this is true — our hopes are distorted; our impulses and drives are irrational; we are people of harsh words and contemptible thoughts; and the sin of our lives is readily apparent. So all manner of doubt arises in us. We fear that God will find us out. We fear that he could not love us. We fear that the ugliness and hideousness of our lives is so apparent, so visible to him. And it is.

The Lord knows our sin, and it is more hideous and grotesque in his eyes than it is in our own. Do you realize that? If we, who live and move in the environment of a sinful world, intuitively sense our alienation and separation from God; how much more does the God of heaven and earth, who lives in perfect holiness. He describes even our righteousness as “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6) and smelly garbage. We are perverse in his eyes: deformed. By nature — as we naturally live — we are spiritual orphans, and cannot enjoy God’s family.

But the Good News is that in Christ, God invites us who are not his children by nature, to be his children, by adoption.

We were orphans, yet he has freely loved us and invited us into a relationship in which we can call him, “Abba Father.” And yes, he knew what he was getting: crippled, deformed, unwanted children. God started from scratch. We, who are unlovely, are not unloveable to him. We, who are repulsive, are not untouchable for him. We, who are disfigured, are not discarded by him. For, as the Bible tells us, it pleased God to reconcile to himself all things — even us, those men and women who were unlovely in his sight (Col. 1:19-21). “We are God’s children now,” if indeed we have responded to God’s boundless love in Christ. Listen to the Bible’s own summary: “At the right time God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law so that we might receive adoption as children.” (Gal. 4:4-5) And that is the truth which John underlined and emphasized. “See what manner of love the Father has given us that we might be called God’s children and that is what we are!” Not by being “little Gods” — perfect, righteous and holy — but because God loved us apart from our merit; died for us apart from our deserving it, and invited us into his family apart from our being worthy of it. He desires that we become his children.

It is a love beyond description, and a privilege beyond dreams. Charles Wesley captured the joy in the hymn he wrote on the day of his conversion:

“O how shall I thy goodness tell,
Father, which thou to me hast showed?
That I a child of wrath and hell
Should be called a child of God!”

By this we are confident of our status before God, for a perfect Father will not desert his children. He may teach them or challenge them. He may discipline or even punish them. But he will not abandon nor forsake them. In the words of the hymn: “Fear not I am with thee, O be not dismayed. For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid.... That soul through all hell should endeavor to shake; I'll never, no never, no never forsake.” God’s first desire for us, and first invitation to us, and first assurance for us is his offer of adoption in Christ.

Yet there is more: we also continue as children by virtue of our destiny. We become members of his family completely by adoption, yet we do so additionally by destiny. “Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears, we shall be like him.” (I John 3:2) Now, we are adopted; then we will be like Jesus. Now we enter his family, then we inherit his image.

On June 18, 1980, a Boeing-747 touched down at O’Hare Airport. A four year old Korean boy, Matthew, stepped off to meet his new adopted family. He had never seen Les and Lynn Fairfield nor their three children, Katie, Jono, and Fenny. He had nothing in common with them: he was a foreigner, he knew no English, he was shy, frightened, withdrawn, and perplexed. Yet on that day Matthew became a Fairfield. He received a father’s love. He had legal rights to the family name, the family home, and the family inheritance. He became a son to Les and Lynn, and a brother to their children. How had he earned such a gift? What had he done to deserve it? Nothing! He simply received it. He was then, 100% a Fairfield — by adoption.

And he is still, three years later, a Fairfield. But now, he is no longer an outsider. He calls Les “Dad”, and Lynn “Mom”. He runs and plays with his brothers and sister whom he loves. He is fluent in English and a constant talker. He is working at his grade level in school with other boys and girls and is a happy, vibrant exuberant child. Three years ago, he was a Fairfield, 100%. And now, he is much more a Fairfield. What he received once as a gift by adoption, he now receives continually as his destiny. He was Fairfield then by name; he is becoming a Fairfield now by character — assuming the values, beliefs, joys and sorrows of the entire family. He reflects, albeit imperfectly, the family image.

All of which is to say that God’s highest calling is not adoption into his family. We must make no mistake about that. Adoption is his first, and necessary call. He can issue no other until that invitation has been answered. There is no further word to unbelievers. Yet his highest call, the destiny of all Christians, is not only to be adopted, but to bear the family likeness, to resemble Christ, to be given his character; the fruit of God’s Spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. (Gal. 5:22) “It does not yet appear what we shall be,” John wrote. “But when he appears, we will be like him.” And that is not a promise for the end of life, but is rather a process which occurs continually as we are shaped and fashioned in the workshop of the master carpenter! He uses the material of our raw experiences — our emotions, decisions, relations, doubts, circumstances, pleasures and sorrows — to create in us his thoughts, his feelings, his values and his attitudes. He changes us by transforming our lives, step by step, however slowly to approximate his. That is the destiny of God’s children and is our highest good and ultimate goal.

All of which should dramatically affect our lives, as John himself pointed out. “Everyone who thus hopes in him, purifies himself as he is pure.” (I John 3:3) It is for John the clarion call, the unmistakable summons, to right living. If our destination is Christlikeness, and that is our hope and yearning, we will eagerly embrace everything that leads to, and participates in, that goal. An athlete whose goal is personal excellence in his sport, eagerly embraces his training. A young woman, whose goal is a happy marriage, looks forward to preparing for it with her fiancee. So too the Christian: being like Christ becomes important to him or her, now. He wants to be like Christ, act like Christ, love like Christ, to have the character of Christ. So he purifies himself, living in obedience to Christ. And a wonderful thing occurs — he participates in the very destiny which God has for him.

I’ve heard it said that being a Christian is a hard thing to do. One is surrounded by trials and temptations; friends and relatives may ridicule and deride, failure is always close at hand, and any rewards are in the distant future. Yes, being a Christian, living in accordance with Christ’s will, has never been easy, nor is it now. The way is beset with obstacles and pitfalls. Yet it is much more difficult not to be a Christian. It is terribly difficult. For the Lord of the Universe, who created all that is, who guides and guards each moment of every day, who fulfills his plan and designs — this God propels human existence in one and in only one direction: towards Christ. All creation will share in the freedom of God’s children. (Rom. 8:21)

Those who know and obey Christ fit with the design of the Universe; those who do not know Christ, or choose not to obey him, find themselves checked and thwarted over and over again. The river of life flows in one direction. And yes, in that stream of human history there are eddies and backwaters, so that one may feel secure and not know Christ, or feel insecure and know Christ, but those are temporary, transitory times. The main channel and primary current is clear — all existence flows towards Christ. His value and character chart the way and set the destination. If we live in accordance with his will, even in the face of ridicule and scorn, we actually ride the current, cooperating with the Lord himself in fulfilling the destiny of the cross, the building of a Christlike character. Recall the vision of Romans 8. “The whole creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.” (Rom. 8:19) Or as J. B. Phillips translates: “The whole creation is on tiptoe to see the marvelous sight of the sons of God coming into their own.” To come into their destiny, to grow into and reflect the character of Christ.

So we are certain — twice over — of God’s unfailing love. He started from scratch and he will finish, is finishing, what he began and he marshalls all creation, all history, all the events and circumstances of your life to assist him in that process. He waits only for your “yes”, your agreement to let him transform and renew you again. He calls you to a loftier goal than belonging to Christ — he calls you to resemblance of Christ.

And history is on tiptoe waiting for your decision: waiting for God’s adopted children to inherit the family likeness of Christ; waiting eagerly for loving and faithful relationships between husbands and wives; waiting for godly decisions to come from families and businesses; waiting for young men and women to conduct holy patterns of dating, engagement and marriage, waiting for the hearts of children to be turned to their parents, and parents to their children; waiting for the Christians of this land to promote justice in our courts; waiting for those who have the bounty of God’s blessing to share with those who have not; waiting for forgiveness to overcome estrangement, holiness to overcome guilt, sacrifice to overcome selfishness.

Imagine! All creation cheers us on, as a crowd cheers an athlete, to excellence, to righteousness, to holiness, to purity. We are God’s children now 100%. Yet when he appears — when we meet him face to face — we will be like him. We are doubly God’s children, by adoption and by destiny; God’s 200% family, so that in the midst of doubt, we can have certainty; in the midst of despair, we can have hope; and in the midst of crises — our spiritual mid-lives — we can know for certain that we have life with him and will have it forever.     

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