Blessing Baby

A couple weeks ago, shortly after announcing Baby #3's life within me, I walked into a group of about 20 high school students praying passionately. They were declaring their identity in Christ, praying for courage, praying for blessing, praying for more of God. It was every youth pastor's dream.

They stopped praying for a moment, saw me sitting in the back, cheered congratulations for our baby, and asked me to pray. In the moment, all I wanted is for them to pray for me, our family, this baby.

For the next 10-15 minutes these students, whom I've known, loved, and poured into for years, prayed over this baby, our family, and my pregnancy. To say it was moving would be an understatement. Many of these students laid hands on me and passionately prayed all kinds of blessing and prophetic prayers into our family. As one of the students was praying, he announced that this was a Blessing Baby, our baby is a blessing and is to be a blessing. Speechless. I was and am so deeply grateful for every heartfelt prayer submitted before God on our behalf.

At the end of their prayers, their leader spoke this pasage over our family. I couldn't help but think this was exactly what we needed to hear about this unexpected pregnancy...

Isaiah 55:8-13 [The Message]

"I don't think the way you think.
   The way you work isn't the way I work."
"For as the sky soars high above earth,
   so the way I work surpasses the way you work,
   and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
   and don't go back until they've watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
   producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
   not come back empty-handed.
They'll do the work I sent them to do,
   they'll complete the assignment I gave them.
 "So you'll go out in joy,
   you'll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
   bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
   exuberant with applause.
No more thistles, but giant sequoias,
   no more thornbushes, but stately pines—
Monuments to me, to God,
   living and lasting evidence of God."

 Out of the mouths of babes, WISDOM speaks.

Colorful Family

Several weeks ago we were talking with some close friends about our yet-public pregnancy, and all of a sudden our friend a shocked look came across his face. He looked at us and announced, "Oh my gosh! I just realized this baby isn't going to be black. WEIRD!" Brian and I looked at each other and had the same shocked reaction. What?!? But our children our black!?!

Literally, multiple times over the past several weeks I've caught myself in the reality check that, indeed, this baby will not be Ethiopian. This will be a Caucasian-Puerto Rican baby.

We've chuckled that our biological child will be the minority of our family. Typically, the concern in multi-racial adoptive families is that that adoptive child will feel like the minority, but in our colorful family [white momma, Hispanic daddy, 2 Ethiopian babies, and 1 multi-racial baby] we're all mixed up.

I think God must be happily chuckling, too. Seriously, I must keep reminding myself that Baby #3 won't be black. Add that to the "crazy things" about being pregnant list.

"How Long?" for Women in Ministry

Last year I was asked to write a piece for my dear friend who's helping to publish a rather large project. Today I got word that my piece must be dropped because of some behind-the-scenes politics. "How Long?" seems a more fitting cry than ever from the psalmist and my fellow women.  My friend asked me to write a piece, based off Psalm 40, regarding women in ministry. 


Though this is a wildly different post than my norm, I thought it would be appropriate to share on my blog. Please read Psalm 40 first and then my piece...

Psalm 40

Waiting. No one likes waiting. Maybe least of all me. I’ve waited for my entire life to see your Church reflect your heart to see men and women lead your people. Equally. With skillful hands and integrity of heart [Psalm 78:72].  I’ve waited for your Church to wake up and get it that we have as much to contribute to the Kingdom as men do! I wish your Word was painfully clear about our contribution equality!

Too many times I’ve seen women in the pit of despair because they have not been allowed to use their voice, their gifts, their experiences, their very calling to build the Kingdom. You have not stopped them from leading and teaching, Lord; your people have. 

My sisters and I have cried when we’ve been told “no”, “be quiet”, “this is not your place”. We need your rescue, God. We desperately need you to bring good news in places where we are pushed down, snuffed out, and negotiated around. Your Kingdom suffers when we are relegated to roles and ministries and places where we are not gifted or passionate. How long?

Our circumstances may not change, our culture may never fully reflect your heart for your Church, but you never change. You are solid and steady and trustworthy. When your Church may fail me, I can still be amazed by who you are. I will find my hope in who you are, not in an outcome – a promotion or a platform or power. I will receive a new song that you give me and sing to the rooftops of who you are and what you’ve done.  I will serve you fully and contribute my best to your Kingdom, even in the midst of broken systems and unjust theology. Give me the courage I need to be faithful today.

How long will we sing this song? When I grieve for what your Church is not yet, I must remember that you are a God of justice and have called ordinary people like me to bring justice on earth as it is in heaven [Matthew 5:10]. Help me not be afraid to speak out and speak for those who do not have a voice.

You have written your calling upon my heart and I will not forsake you. I will take joy in following you no matter what anyone else says.  Help me listen to you more and more and follow you obediently. Thank you for my calling, even if it’s not honored among others.

copywright 2010 April L. Diaz