“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!”

1st John 3:1

The gavel pounded and the declaration of the judge was final. Elanna was ours. Our adoption was complete, irrevocable, and permanent. It was a glorious day.

The reality was, she was ours from the start. My wife was in the delivery room when Elanna was born. She got to cut the umbilical cord. Almost immediately this precious child was lying on the chest of my wife. Moments after she was born she was bonding with my wife. Those moments were holy ground moments. Our family was forming and connecting.

Elanna was born in the middle of the night, so Deanna had that early shift and was there in the delivery room. I was waiting with Ethan for the phone call and the good news. That next night we switched. I stayed in the hospital with Elanna and Deanna went back to the hotel to get some rest. Finally, I got to bond with my new born daughter. She pooped all over me. All. Over. Me. She laughs about it still.

She was born out in California. We had to wait for the lawyers and the paperwork to be filed. It was a lengthy process because the state of California and the state of Ohio had to work together. Governmental bureaucracy at its finest.

Elanna rode on Deanna’s lap out of the hospital. She settled in with us in the hotel room. I gave her that first bath, without the nurses help, in a hotel sink. We loved her, cuddled with her, fed her, changed her. We did all the things parents of a new born do for their child. She was ours.

And yet, the paperwork wasn’t filed. There was a very real possibility that everything could unravel. Like a house under contract that falls through in the last minute, there was a potential that our dreams would come crashing down.

That is why that sound of the gavel was so beautiful. It was final. She was ours. The adoption was complete, irrevocable, and permanent. Now, while it is certainly a part of our story, Elanna (along with my other 2 adopted kiddos) are mine. They belong to me in all their glory and all their sass. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the best way, this identity of my children is something that is declared about them and over them. It wouldn’t have mattered if Elanna, in some miraculous way, declared she wanted to be our daughter. It didn’t matter if we, as her potential adopted parents began to claim her as ours. Adoption is about a declaration made about you. It comes from an external source of authority. It was a declaration made by the judge in that court room. Where a formal relationship didn’t exist prior, now it is part of the core of my daughter’s identity. She is my daughter.

The same is true with you. In your baptism, God’s declaration over you comes from beyond you—an external source of authority. It isn’t about your ability to say, “this is what I want.” It isn’t about your ability to fully comprehend what is taking place. The waters of baptism and the Word of God are a holy gavel of declaration. With the Triune Name still ringing in your ears, a new identity is forged. You, precious one, are a child of God. Forever.

You have been grafted in. You have been delivered. You have been clothed. You receive gifts of the Spirit. You are transferred to a new realm. You have a new life. For the rest of your life, you walk wet. You walk as one who has been named and claimed.

None of this is your doing. This is the holy gift of the Father in heaven. His lavish love is poured out upon you.

I love baptisms for all these reasons. Early in my ministry I learned that I love to make a mess at baptisms. I love to splash water all around. The font gets drenched. I’m not afraid to splash the people in the front row. I certainly use lots of water on the one getting baptized. I’ve even been known to take the bowl from the font and walk around splashing the congregation. Why? Well, because it is fun! And, because it is a reminder of the lavish love of our Father. It is the abundance of His grace and goodness poured out on you.

You, dear one, are a child of God. Not because of who you are. But because of what the Lord has declared over you. You are His. It is complete. Irrevocable. And permanent. This is your identity. This is who you are. Always.

Now, let’s spend the rest of our lives figuring out how to live like it. Together.

How can you reflect the lavish love of God that you’ve received onto someone else today?