What the Judge Declared

Every November, courtrooms across America host National Adoption Day. In Grand Rapids, Michigan, families line up in their Sunday best while children clutch stuffed animals and shift nervously in oversized chairs. One by one, a judge looks each child in the eye and speaks the words that rewrite their story: "You are now and forever a part of this family."

The courtroom erupts. But any adoptive parent will tell you what comes next — the wilderness. The 3 a.m. terrors. The pushing away to see if love will stay. The slow, exhausting work of teaching a heart that this home is permanent.

In Mark's Gospel, Jesus steps out of the Jordan and the heavens tear apart. The voice of the Almighty declares, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased." Then — immediately — the Spirit drives Him into forty days of desert, wild beasts, and Satan's whispers.

Notice what the Father did not say: "Prove yourself, and then I will call you beloved." The naming came first. The wilderness came second.

If you are walking through a season that feels more like desert than courtroom, take heart. You were not sent into the wilderness to earn the Father's love. You were named beloved before the first grain of sand touched your feet. That is the voice that holds.