My post about the orphan crisis and world missions is up at Red Letter Christians today. I’ve always struggled a little with that post, feeling that it didn’t quite express what I wanted to get across, so imagine my delight when a commentor said something that clarified the issue for me.

“I think something else that should be addressed is the state of adoptions in the US as well.  I’ve heard a lot of people say they’d never consider domestic adoptions because they’re too afraid that the kids will be “messed up,” so they pursue international adoptions.”

Eureka! I’ve got it!

This actually has nothing to do with adoption (although adoption provides a good foil for the conversation)–instead, it has to do with what I call outcome-based Christianity. While it may not be explicitly taught, most of us absorb the idea that good Christian lives are supposed to look a certain way. We’re supposed to achieve certain outcomes to show ourselves faithful. Up in Northern WI, it looks like a nice, respectful family (more concerned with children’s character than academic or career achievements–that’s different than other places I’ve lived) and modest material success–not too much, nothing flashy, just enough to demonstrate that you have worked really hard and managed your life well.

Of course those are wonderful things, things worth striving for. They are blessings. But if we cling too tightly to the outcomes we desire, make achieving results we believe will demonstrate our faithfulness our primary pursuit, it is going to be harder for us to engage in things that might threaten those results. Things God may be calling us to do.

Take foster-parenting, for example. (I mentioned on Facebook that there is a shortage of foster parents in WI, to the point that kids from my rural county are being sent way downstate. The thought of our hurting, displaced children being sent away to an unfamiliar urban environment horrifies me one so many levels.) Many of these kids have been through hell and back. They’re going to have issues. And if we bring them into our homes, their issues are going to become our issues. So much for a perfect family life (not that we are guaranteed that anyway).

But isn’t that what God did for us when he came in the person of Jesus? Didn’t he plunge headfirst into the mess of our human family, adopting us as his own despite all our issues? Doesn’t he bear with us and love us unconditionally, even when we hurt him, even when we scorn his care, even when we pine for our previous life, even when we make him look bad? (And is there really any question that God’s children “make him look bad” on a regular basis?) No, God doesn’t pre-screen the people he lets into his family, picking and choosing the ones most likely to live up to certain standards. We can all thank God for that.

It’s easy for us to read the Bible and criticize the Pharisees for their legalism, but it’s harder for us to see the same mindset at work in our own lives. After all, we’re just living the way we’ve always believed God wants us to live. We’re doing the things good Christians do, to attain the results that have been modeled by our spiritual mentors.

Which is precisely what the Pharisees were doing.

It is impossible to read the New Testament seriously and thoughtfully without realizing that following Christ is likely to make you look bad. That whole scorn of the cross thing. Examples?

Jesus’ family thought he was nuts. They tracked him down to try to talk some sense into him, to bring him home to Nazareth, where he belonged.

Although the Bible doesn’t say, I’ve often wondered what people thought about the women who abandoned hearth and home to travel with Jesus and the Twelve. I mean, seriously, Joanna? I can understand Mary Madeline, whose reputation was shaky at best, but you? The wife of a respected administrator?

And of course Paul makes no bones about what following Jesus cost his reputation:

“You know my pedigree: a legitimate birth, circumcised on the eighth day; an Israelite from the elite tribe of Benjamin; a strict and devout adherent to God’s law; a fiery defender of the purity of my religion, even to the point of persecuting the church; a meticulous observer of everything set down in God’s law Book. The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God’s righteousness. I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself.“

Suffering seldom looks good to those around us (think of Job), and death seldom seems like the prudent, responsible choice.

Our list of hoped-for outcomes seldom include terms like “suffering” and “death.” And yet the death of our prideful expectations can lead to such abundance, even when it hurts. (And here is where I could ramble on about mothering a special needs child, but I’ll leave that for another post.)

To sum up this long and rambling post? If we cling to a certain set of outcomes, we may not be able to embrace everything (or everyone) God wants us to embrace. And that is NOT okay (see Matt. 25:31-46 for proof). God have mercy, and give us the courage to follow you into the mess.