I tucked in the white woven canopy that draped over the bed—a covering and hiding place—as my kids closed their eyes to pray. I held their hands as we prepared our hearts for our long-awaited court date and the morning to come. While we have spent nearly a decade ministering in Northern Uganda, the most challenging part has been waiting in an uncertain lingering for the completion of our six-year-long adoption process for two of our children. We prayed specifically that God would part the waters and allow us to walk through to the other side, even though things still needed to come together and we desperately needed the Lord to make a way.
Upon receiving the news to appear in court only a week earlier, we had been thrown into the chaos of countless preparations. There had been multiple we-need-a-miracle moments throughout the week, and we were beyond exhausted. Though we could see the path that God was carving out, it was still an overwhelmingly muddy path leading us through the parting of our very own wild and raging sea.
Later that evening, as I was writing up an update of prayers still needing answers before the next day, an email arrived from a blog I follow. Nestled inside of it was a link to a song called Red Sea Road, written by Ellie Holcomb. Having spoken to my kids only a few hours before about how I felt the Lord was asking us to trust that he was at work and to rest in his faithfulness, I allowed the lyrics to wash over me:
We will sing to our souls, we won’t bury our hope
Where He leads us to go, there’s a Red Sea road
When we can’t see the way, He will part the waves
We will never walk alone down the Red Sea Road
We have watched many families finalize their adoptions over the years, while ours has remained at a standstill—rendering us stuck in a situation with no end date. Over those long years, I have learned to root deeper in the Lord and turn to him as my refuge and sheltering place when all hope seems lost. I love how the Hebrew word for refuge is machesah, meaning “a hope, a shelter, to trust”.
It is found in his presence and in drawing close to him.
It is found in his Word, in the consistency of his truth.
And it is found in his steadfast promises over our lives.
Psalm 46:1–3 reassures us:
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. (ESV)
His faithfulness has truly carried us with each step we’ve taken.
Through the valleys of heartache and the mountains of unexpected grief.
Through the bittersweet laments and amongst waves of uncertainty.
And in the delight we’ve discovered even in the hope deferred and countless delays.
Long story short, God made a way.
Only a week after our court date, we received the news we’d been longing for! While I’m only beginning to fully feel the relief and impact of years layered thick and heavy with delays, detours, and desperate prayers, our daughter’s response was matter-of-fact: “Well, we’ve already been a family for a really long time.” As if it came as no surprise to her.
Honestly, it’s a little full circle for me. The first essay I wrote for Velvet Ashes in 2021 was written within the middle of the implosion of our adoption process after being caught between the old system and the new system implemented during Covid. There, in the reflection of Acorns and Oaks, I wrestled with the tension between the pain and the promise for our family:
I’m not yet at the place where I can marvel at how the Lord has been working all of this out for the good. I’m still in the middle of the mess, grappling with the waiting and wrestling with the unanswered prayers. And yet, I desire to wait this season out well. One hand holding tight to hope, while the other surrendering my expectations of how it should look.
Yet, despite all of it, God is still so good.
And whether we pray with words, with tears, or with aching, He is with us. Immanuel. And He is using our unanswered prayers to grow us and draw us closer to Him. He can be found on the rocky terrain of the mountain. He can be found in the heat of the desert. He can be found by quiet and calm streams. He can be found in the weariness of the wilderness. He can be found in the mess of the mundane. And He can be found in the ache of the waiting. When we receive the promise, we must also trust Him in the process. And everything passes through His hands. Even when we don’t understand. Especially… when we don’t understand.
When we receive the promise, we must also trust him in the process.
This is the story of our Red Sea Road, and what an incredible journey it has been. Though we still have some paperwork to do in order to enjoy the reward of legally becoming a family, we rejoice for all he has accomplished. And while we may have finished chapter one, there is more to the story he is writing, a story of how his promises will continue to be our shield and carry us throughout this next wilderness of waiting (and the next and the next). I long to grow deeper in my dependency on him, to walk confidently in the covering of his love, and to embrace whatever is to come with a new song of his faithfulness on my lips:
But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may exult in you.
For you bless the righteous O Lord;
you cover him with favor as with a shield. (Psalm 5:11–12 ESV)
Whatever your Red Sea Road looks like, know that he is faithful. He can split the seas, quiet the waves, level the mountains, and bring so much beauty out of the most barren of places. May he consistently be your refuge of peace and comfort along the wilderness way.
How is the Lord making a way along your Red Sea Road? How has he been your shelter throughout your journey, and how have his promises become your strength?
One Response
I love that song! We sang it a lot in re-entry. Thank you for reminding me of it.
And I’m so excited to read this good news for you!!