The King's Paige: Wastefully Extravagant

It is only 9:00 a.m. and already I have answered five hundred fifty-two questions.

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?”

“Are we going anywhere today?”

“Is it windy?”

“Where’s my Lego book?”

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the second child to wake up and walk into the kitchen.

“Can I go outside?”

“Can we play on the Slip N’ Slide today?”

“Mommy, where are my favorite brown shorts?”

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the third child to wake up. (If you can’t tell by now my kids LOVE waffles!)

“Can I have juice?”

“Can I have chocolate milk?”

“Can I have water with ice?”

“Can I have water with no ice?”

Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the fourth hungry child to walk sleepily to the breakfast table.

“WE DO NOT HAVE ANY WAFFLES!” said the calm, gentle, loving mommy.

“Can you go to the store and get more waffles?” asked by the child who wanted to end his life prematurely.

All those questions and one of my children still cannot talk. #helpmeLord

Most of these questions are asked by my Ethiopian love, my first son, known by our family as Mr. Justice. Mr. Justice likes to know the rules. Doesn’t mean he always follows the rules but he will ensure everyone else does or he will push them, kick them, or if all else fails punch them in the face. Mr. Justice will also make sure his parents obey all the laws. Allow me to demonstrate.

“Mommy, why did we stop?” asked Mr. Justice.

“Because we came to a stop sign and all cars must stop at the stop sign to make sure no other cars are coming before you pull out,” said the excellent mini-van driver mom.

“Why did you not stop all the way mommy? Why did you keep rolling slowly?” asked Mr. Justice.

“It’s called a rolling stop, son. Yes, technically you are not supposed to do that but I looked and no cars were coming so I knew it was safe to go,” answered slightly agitated mom.

“Mommy how come you always do a rolling stop? The stop sign says stop so you have to stop all the way mommy. All the way,” says Mr. Justice.

“Yes son thank you for that reminder. And thank you God for giving me my very own police officer, located right behind my seat for the next 10 years,” said mentally exhausted mother of Mr. Justice.

This boy. He is one of a kind. He can have me laughing one minute and want to spit nails the next. He can out talk both of his big sisters and his questions go on for days. His laughter fills the house. His creativity with Legos and ability to complete mazes in less than 30 seconds blow me away. I love his curiosity to know how everything works, especially light switches. I love when I give him a rule or introduce a new song it’s like writing it in concrete. Why you ask? Because how you show him the first time is how it will be done or sung for the rest of eternity. This child Does. Not. Do. Change. It doesn’t matter if you sang the verse wrong when you taught him you will keep singing it the wrong way because his beautiful little mind turns words, methods, and routines into fact, after just one take.

He is my one. The one who can push all my buttons and make me want to pull my hair out. The one most of my tears, prayers, and gray hairs come from. The one who keeps me humble. The one God uses to remind me I am not a perfect parent. The one who requires me to give all of myself every single day with very little return.

The word generosity has been stirring in my heart for the past few days. I had considered myself a fairly generous person until a few days ago. Then God made a familiar Bible story come alive in a whole new way.

Luke 15:11-20 tells a story most are extremely familiar, the story of the prodigal son. Our pastor recently preached on this passage and did an amazing job of bringing the story to life. He explained what would have actually happened in order for the father in the story to give his son the inheritance he demanded. During the time when Luke penned these words, most people’s wealth was in their land. In order to give his son half of the family estate, it was not as simple as going to the family safe. The father would have had to sell a portion of his land to give his selfish, irresponsible, arrogant son the money he was not asking for, but demanding.

How many of us would do that? I would not. I probably would have said something like, “Son, you must be crazy to think your dad and I are going to give you anything when you ask like that. Until you start making some wise choices and working for your own money, you can just forget it.” Not only would I not give to my own child, if they ever approached me with such an audacious request; I would think any parent who did; an irresponsible and senseless person. I would shake my head and say they are never going to see that money again. They know good and well, that child is going to spend every penny of that money and then come crawling back when it’s gone.

And I would be right. I called it. I could look that father in the eye and say “I told you so.” But he wouldn’t hear me. Why? Because he was running. He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, to the son he had waited for so long to come home. Even if he did hear me, he didn’t care. He was too busy kissing and hugging the son who had spent half of the family fortune. Too busy calling for his servants to bring a robe and the family ring to the boy who had lived recklessly and irresponsibly for months. Too busy telling his servants to kill the fattened calf and invite the whole town to celebrate the son who did nothing to deserve it.

There I stand, not believing the scene unfolding before my eyes. How is that father not mad? Why is he welcoming him home with such extravagance? Why?

Because the son wasn’t the only prodigal in the story. The dictionary defines prodigal as spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant or giving something on a lavish scale. The father was a wasteful giver. Because he knew no matter when he gave it away, before or after death, it wasn’t his. It all belonged to the Lord. So why not give with reckless abandon? Why not give to a son who desperately needs to see unconditional love lived out? Isn’t that what we all need?

Over the years, I have given to my children; I have given to my spouse, to my family. I have given to missionaries, I have given to friends, and I have given to complete strangers. But if I am brutally honest with myself, I have never given like the father in this story. Every time I give there is a part of me that expects something in return. Whether it’s a simple thank you or God’s blessings, I expect something. Because I worked hard for that, I stewarded it well! I want to know that they people I give to will be good stewards. I don’t know if I can think of a time where I gave recklessly, fully aware I would get nothing in return. Sure I’ve given a few dollars to a homeless person here and there, knowing they might not use it wisely, but even they say thank you.

The father in the story of the prodigal son gave extravagantly; he gave wastefully in others’ eyes. He had lived with his son. He had watched him grow and he could see the rebellion in his heart and I’m sure he knew his son would not spend his inheritance wisely. But he gave it anyways. And then he watched his son turn his back on him and walk away. And the father waited and watched.

When the son had spent all his inheritance and found himself in the lowest place possible, sleeping and eating with pigs, he decided even the servants in my father’s household live better than this. Because you see, he had seen his father’s generosity his whole life. So he decided it was worth a try. He decided to go home, even if I have to be a servant.

Pretend you are the father. You have been waiting and watching, praying one day your son would come home. What would you say? Would you welcome him in, give him a hug, maybe warm up some food for him out of the fridge, sit down at the table and talk. The whole time fighting the emotions inside of you that on one hand want to scream at him and tell him how selfish and irresponsible he has been and on the other hand cry your eyes out because you’re so thankful he finally came home. I would probably be a combination of the two. But would I run to him? Would I bring out the brand new clothes I bought for him just for this occasion? Would I call all our family, friends and neighbors and throw a party? Would I go out and buy prime rib and fill the house with food?

That’s what the prodigal father does. He sees the son coming from a long way off and he doesn’t wait for the son to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. The father runs to him and lavishes him with hugs and kisses. Then he tells the servants to bring the best robes, bring the family ring, kill the fatten calf, and invite the whole town to a feast. After all the son has done, and all the money lost, the father gives again.

God does the same for us. God gave extravagantly, wastefully when He gave us His entire inheritance, Jesus. He gave His one and only Son to a group of filthy, selfish sinners who did not love Him. AND He gave us the freedom to choose. There was no guarantee He would get any return on his investment, there was a greater chance He would lose it all. But He gave anyways. He gives us; the selfish, irresponsible children, the very best and watches us walk away. Then He waits and watches, ready to give again.

Mr. Justice talks about Ethiopia all the time. He asks about his birth mom and family often. He tells us he wants to go home to Ethiopia on a pretty regular basis, even though he was six months old when we brought him home and doesn’t remember anything about living there. He asks us to see pictures of Ethiopia and he wants us to tell him stories about when we traveled there to visit and bring him home. Kentucky Boy and I have openly talked about his heritage, our love for Ethiopia and for his birth family. I enjoy showing him pictures and telling him stories about our time in Ethiopia.

However, the first time Mr. Justice began telling us he wanted to go home to Ethiopia, it struck a chord in my heart. To be honest, it hurt my feelings. My thoughts went something like this, “I am your mommy. This is your home. We are your family. We love you. We flew across the ocean and spent thousands of dollars to bring you home. We have given you everything. Why do you want to leave?”

One day I was asking the Lord what to do and why I felt so hurt by Mr. Justice’s questions. And His reply gently came.

“Because my daughter, you didn’t freely give.”

“You gave with expectations, even if you never said them out loud.”

“And now my daughter I need you to give again. Even when it hurts and even if you never see the harvest I need you to give, because he’s mine. I only loaned him to you.”

“I need you raise him up. To feed him, to clothe him, to love him, to teach him. And then my daughter I need you let him go. Because you see, I have great plans for him. I gave him a love for his people, a love for his birth mother and birth family that runs deep into his soul because I want him to return to his people.”

I sat frozen. Unable to speak. I could only let the tears roll down my cheeks as they are doing right now even as I type out these words. The tears come not only because I know one day, sooner rather than later, I will have to watch him go, but also because in that moment I realized how selfish I had been.

Yes, I adopted my son because I wanted to obey the Lord but I also wanted another child. A child to love and hold. A child to watch grow up and return all the affection I had given to him. I wanted to be an encouragement for other families who choose the journey of adoption. The problem with each of those statements, is me. They are all about me. About my feelings. About what I will get from my generosity.

What if I give my whole heart to my child just for them to one day walk away and never say thank you. If I knew that now would I withhold the gift? Would I give more to a person who tells me thank you than someone who doesn’t? Would I give more to an organization that recognizes my giving than one who doesn’t. Would I give more to a missionary who sends thank you letters each month than one who doesn’t.

The answer should be no. The Lord wants us to give like Him. Like the prodigal father. Giving isn’t about me. It’s never about me. Giving is lavishly, extravagantly, wastefully giving what has been given to us, expecting nothing in return. Trusting our Father in heaven who says His Word will never return void. We may never see the harvest, we may never get the reward here on earth but the seed we sow will reap a harvest. Whether we are giving love, money or forgiveness, we only need to be obedient.

Lord help me be Your wastefully, extravagant giver, to my son and to the rest of the world.

Give recklessly today. Give wastefully extravagant. Give in a way the world and even your mind doesn’t understand. Give like the prodigal father, lavishly, expecting nothing in return.

Need a place to start? Here are some of my favorite organizations that welcome reckless, wasteful givers any day of the week. Feel free to add your favorite sponsorship organizations in the comments.