I’m not a fan of Shakespeare. But I love words. And in his play, “Romeo and Juliet,” a simple quote calls for my attention.
From the Italian city of Verona, a family feud takes place between the Montagues and the Capulets. These two families hate one another. But Romeo (who belongs to the Montagues) and Juliet (who belongs to the Capulets) fall deeply in love.
A couple of weeks ago, my girlfriend and I roamed the shelves of Books-A-Million. (Yes, we actually had a date in a bookstore). All went well until I spotted some merchandise. But not just any merchandise. Much to my disappointment, I saw action figures and other items based upon an individual who—in my opinion—shouldn’t be celebrated.
My frustration must’ve been obvious. Eventually, my girlfriend asked me who the publicized woman was. The woman found in action figure form. And I responded, “She’s a very horrible person.” Out loud. With a touch of fury. And a whole lot of regret.
Do you remember doing plays as a child? I sure do. In the second grade, my class had all kinds of plays. We had decorations. We invited our parents. And they listened to our squealy, little voices while each of us played our roles.
Then, there were those plays in our reading books. Those moments when different students in the class read different characters. And oftentimes, there were more students than roles to play. Therefore, only those who wanted to participate would get a role. Likely the talkative ones. And the rest of the class would sit back and listen to the story.
To the lost and lonely. The outcasts. Downtrodden. And forgotten. This one’s for you. But don’t worry. It’s for me, too.
We all long for a place to belong. A place to call home. And it’s more than a building with a front door. We desire something more.
Does God have a home? Yes. But it may surprise you to know His address.
In the Old Testament, God dwelt in a temple. Behind a curtain. In the Most Holy Place. Where only the highest priest could go. And he had a lamb to show.
Once a year. For the forgiveness of sins. But it never made amends.
So God put Himself in our shoes. Through the person of Jesus Christ. To be the perfect sacrifice.
Thursday was a special day for my family. We welcomed a new member. Not through birth. But through adoption. My amazing aunt and uncle adopted a beautiful nine-year-old girl.
Her name is Chloe. And I’m so happy to be her big cousin. But as I ponder this special day, I can’t help but share a message with you. Because Chloe reminds me of my own adoption.
Chloe left the courthouse with a new name. A new birth certificate. A new identity. Why? Because someone willingly chose her. Not because she did anything spectacular.
And that’s my story.