04/27/2026
https://www.facebook.com/100064191210269/posts/1338846058265089/
The Church loves orphans… just not the ones in foster care.
That sentence makes me uncomfortable.
But maybe it should.
Because if we are being honest… there is some truth sitting in it.
We love orphans when they are far away.
When they are easy to picture.
When their stories feel inspiring instead of complicated.
We will sponsor a child across the world
before we bring a meal to a foster family down the street.
We will cry during a sermon about adoption
but hesitate to step into the real, raw, unpredictable world of foster care.
We will share Scripture about defending the fatherless
while there are children in our own cities sleeping in offices, in group homes, in places that were never meant to hold a child.
And I am not saying this to shame anyone.
I am saying it because it matters.
Because somewhere along the way, we started loving the idea of caring for vulnerable children…
more than actually doing it.
We love the stories that wrap up nicely.
The testimonies that make us feel good.
The before and after moments.
But foster care does not usually look like that.
It is messy.
It is unpredictable.
It will stretch you in ways you did not expect.
It is children who do not know how to receive love yet.
It is behaviors that come from pain, not disobedience.
It is biological families that are complicated and broken and still worthy of prayer.
It is courtrooms and case plans and long nights and hard goodbyes.
It is not comfortable.
And because it is not comfortable… we call it someone else’s calling.
But here is the tension we cannot ignore.
James 1:27 does not say, “If you feel called.”
It says to care for the fatherless in their distress.
That is not just a suggestion.
That is a command.
And no, that does not mean everyone is meant to foster.
But it does mean everyone is meant to do something.
Because if the Church does not step in… who will?
Who is going to show up for the child who has been moved again… and again… and again?
Who is going to sit with the foster mom who is holding it together for everyone else… but is falling apart inside?
Who is going to make space for the teenager who has never been invited, never felt wanted, never believed they belonged anywhere?
We cannot keep saying we care…
and then look away when it costs us something.
Jesus never called us to comfortable compassion.
He stepped into the mess.
He drew near to the broken.
He loved people who were hard to love.
And then He said,
“Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.”
So Church… this is a call back to what matters.
Not just talking about it.
Not just posting about it.
Not just feeling something for a moment.
Living it.
Right here.
Right now.
In the middle of the hard, the messy, the unseen.
Because these kids are not just a cause.
They are people.
And they are worth more than our comfort.
