EDITOR’S NOTE: Jason Myers serves as vice president with the MBCH Children and Family Ministries.
In Genesis 22, God calls Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac on a mountain in the land of Moriah. As they journeyed, Isaac noticed there was no lamb for the offering. Abraham responded with faith: “The Lord will provide.” And He did. At the last moment, an angel stopped Abraham, and God provided a ram caught in a thicket.
Someday in heaven, I’d love to hear the ram’s side of the story. Maybe he was just minding his own business when God nudged him to take a walk. I imagine him hesitating—“You want me to stick my horns in *what*?” But being an obedient ram, he did it.
While Abraham climbed one side of the mountain saddened by his circumstances, God was sending provision up the other. That image has stayed with me.
November is National Adoption Month. As someone who was adopted and has worked in child welfare for nearly 25 years, I’ve seen many stories of heartbreak and healing. Adoption is a beautiful reflection of redemption—a child whose birth parents couldn’t care for them finds a forever home. That’s why MBCH Children and Family Ministries continues this work: because every child deserves a family.
So, what does this have to do with a ram?
Glad you asked.
Recently, I sat down with friends from church who adopted a few years ago. Their journey was filled with heartache, joy, frustration, hope, tears, and ultimately, love. In the center of it all, a child named Greg found a home.
The mom shared that early in their marriage, she longed for a child more than anything. Despite their prayers, it wasn’t happening. She felt hopeless—probably how Abraham did climbing the mountain. But on the other side of the mountain, God was working. Another mother, in a desperate situation, was also walking a painful path.
God brought those two journeys together. A little boy named Greg, who needed love, structure, and belonging, met a mom and dad whose hearts were ready for the challenge. That family, who later conceived two children, shared this on Greg’s adoption anniversary: “I didn’t understand it then like I do now. I was so happy to have you that I didn’t put myself in your tiny shoes. God takes the frayed, mismatched threads of grief and weaves them together beautifully. That is adoption. It’s wonderful—not because Greg is ‘lucky,’ but because our God creates goodness out of brokenness. When you turned three, you didn’t become ours—we became a family.”
I couldn’t have said it better. Whatever mountain you’re climbing, remember: on the other side, God will provide.