"We are blessed indeed to have a father with a redemptive heart, not one to discard the fragments of our lives and hearts but to reclaim, rebuild, and make beautiful the dark and ugly of circumstances."

Adoption is widely regarded as a beautiful thing, a wholesome experience, and a worthwhile journey. This is a true and well-founded sentiment, of course. Adoption is all those things and more. Like having biological children, adoption is a nationally accepted avenue to become parents to children. It is often seen in a wholly positive light and strongly encouraged by churches, friends, and family members.

What I have found in my line of work, however, is that the road of adoption is paved with grief, loss, confusion, and pain. It pains me even to type — I would certainly prefer to paint a simple, rosy picture for you—but adoption simply can’t exist without brokenness.

Consider with me what it takes for a woman to relinquish parental rights of the child that she carried lovingly in her womb, or what must happen for a child to be institutionalized, placed in an orphanage or foster care system for lack of necessary familial care. Poverty, addiction, lack of support, death, disaster, trauma, or others may come to mind when you sort through all the potential reasons. Tribulations that are far beyond you or me to solve or make right.

The common thread through all those things, to me at least, is brokenness. The compounding reasons that lead to adoption being necessary are rooted in fractured families and corrupted human nature. It is soberly and mindfully that I write this. I don’t aim to depress or discourage you, and I hope you know that is not where the story, or this article, has to end.

Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection, that universe-altering event that we celebrate in reverence every week of every year, does not exist without brokenness. It was a response by God to corruption that he had never intended. How thankful we are and ought to be for the gift of salvation, yet how pensive I am at the thought of why salvation was needed in the first place. Our hearts groan for a reason—this pain, death, and disease we experience is not what was meant to be. Much like our own spiritual redemption, adoption also would not be necessary if not for something going wrong.

And yet, that, to me, is what is truly beautiful about the act of adoption. Not because it’s how God designed life to be, but because it’s God’s response to reclaim what contradicted his design. We are blessed indeed to have a father with a redemptive heart, not one to discard the fragments of our lives and hearts but to reclaim, rebuild, and make beautiful the dark and ugly of circumstances. It is not second-best or even better than originally planned, but entirely new in shape and concept. That is what adoption—and redemption—is all about.