From Strangers to Sons

The Unspeakable Glory of Adoption in Christ

Something is happening in our church. And it’s not just growth—it’s transformation. The testimonies are pouring in, not about flashy programs or perfect sermons, but about something far more powerful: people are finally feeling wanted, not just welcomed. There’s a quiet revival taking place—not of hype, but of healing. And I believe at the heart of this movement is one of the most astonishing and often forgotten doctrines in all of Scripture: the doctrine of adoption.

It’s the doctrine that explains what we’re witnessing right now—the sense that we don’t just belong to a church, but to a family. And not just any family. God’s family.

Behold What Manner of Love ( apostolic astonishment )

When John writes in 1 John 3:1, “Behold what manner of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God—and we are!” he’s not making a casual comment. He’s erupting with apostolic astonishment. R.C. Sproul put it this way: “If there’s anything we tend to take for granted that was never taken for granted by the apostolic church, it is that we are the children of God.”

Why? Because in John’s time, the idea that God was a Father—and that we could call Him ours—was radical. In Jewish antiquity, children were taught a list of reverent titles for God: Creator, Sovereign, Holy One. But Father? That wasn’t one of them. And then came Jesus.

Every recorded prayer of Jesus—except one—begins with Him addressing God as His Father. This is what shocked the Pharisees. They saw it as a claim to deity. He wasn’t just calling God “Abba” for intimacy’s sake; He was revealing the deep relational core of divine identity. And then, more shocking still—He taught us to say it too.

“When you pray, say: Our Father who art in heaven…”

The weight of this cannot be overstated. Jesus wasn’t just teaching a model prayer—He was granting us access to address the Almighty the same way He does. This one phrase alone—“Our Father”—was enough to shake religious assumptions and stir the ire of those who believed no man could claim such intimacy with God. It wasn’t just revolutionary—it was, in part, the scandal that would lead Him to the cross.

This is no small thing. When we say “Our Father,” we are stepping into the intimacy of Jesus’ own relationship with the Father. We are being invited, adopted, drawn into a love so pure and perfect that it changed the way prayer itself was understood.

Not by Nature, But by Grace

Jesus is the only begotten Son by nature. We are not God’s children by default. Scripture says that by nature, we are children of wrath (Eph. 2:3), not of God. The popular phrase, “We’re all God’s children,” is a theological error born out of 19th century liberalism, not biblical truth. As Sproul said, “To be called the children of God is not something that is received inherently by natural birth.”

So how then do we become His children? John tells us:

“To all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God—who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” (John 1:12-13)

It is a gift. An act of sovereign grace. Adoption is not a human right—it is a divine miracle.

The Spirit of Adoption

Paul writes in Romans 8:

“You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father!’ The Spirit himself testifies together with our spirit that we are God’s children.”

Adoption isn’t just a legal transfer of status—it’s a spiritual union of love. God sends His own Spirit to live within us and awaken our hearts to cry, not just “God,” but Abba. Dad. Father.

This is why our church feels different right now. We’re living out of adoption, not attendance. We don’t just meet on Sundays—we carry each other’s burdens like brothers and sisters. We don’t just say hello—we say, “You matter.” Because in Christ, we all matter.

And here’s the wonder: we’re not second-class citizens in the kingdom. We’re co-heirs with Christ. The same inheritance given to Jesus, the true Son, is now ours by adoption. Not because we earned it, but because He gave it.

And this has real, relational consequences. Because if the Father has forgiven a brother or sister in Christ, then so must we. We no longer hold each other hostage to yesterday’s disobedience when repentance is evident today. If Christ has covered it, then we must cover it too. We don’t restore from a distance—we walk beside. We help them stand back up and remind them that they still belong. Because love doesn’t say, “You blew it,” love says, “Come home.”

“They will know you are My disciples by your love for one another.” (John 13:35)

The Mystical Union: Christ In Us, Us In Him

Sproul explained that the New Testament speaks of not only believing in Christ (Greek: en) but believing into Christ (Greek: eis). It’s not simply agreeing with facts—it’s being brought into union with Christ Himself. When we are brought into Christ, and He into us, this changes everything—not just our relationship with God, but with each other.

If I am in Christ and you are in Christ, then we are not strangers—we are bound together in a mystical, eternal, spiritual family. That’s not poetic—it’s reality. It’s why Scripture calls the Church not just an organization, but the household of God (Eph. 2:19).

And when that truth takes root? The church becomes a home. A shelter. A family reunion of blood-bought brothers and sisters.

What This Means for Us

This doctrine isn’t abstract. It’s the fuel for our mission, the heartbeat of our culture, and the foundation for our unity. If we forget this, we drift into performance, hierarchy, comparison, and loneliness. But when we remember—really remember—that we’ve been adopted…

• We stop striving to be seen, and start resting in being sons.

• We stop ranking each other, and start rejoicing in our shared inheritance.

• We stop fearing rejection, because we’ve already been received.

• We stop condemning each other, and start restoring one another in love.

And when someone walks through our doors, they don’t just hear “Welcome.”

They feel: “You are wanted.”

Don’t Say “Our Father” Casually

Next time you pray the Lord’s Prayer, slow down. Stop at the first two words: “Our Father.” Let them floor you. Let them humble you. Let them lift your eyes to the only throne that matters.

You don’t just have access to God.

You belong to Him.

And if that doesn’t stir something in you, read it again:

“Behold what manner of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God—and we are!” (1 John 3:1)

He didn’t just save you. He took you in.

You’re not just forgiven.

You’re family.

-Justin Reed

Brushwoodpess.com