03 Welcomed Home Series

Motherhood is a gift. It’s beautiful, it’s demanding, and it’s one of the clearest pictures we have of sacrificial love. Whether it’s through birth, adoption, foster care, mentorship, or spiritual motherhood—so many women have poured themselves out in ways that reflect the heart of God.

And today, on this special day, I want to begin by sharing a glimpse into a story that’s deeply personal for our family—because it’s shaped the way we’ve come to understand both the beauty and the cost of love.

It was April 20, 2018. Natalie and I stood in a courtroom at the Montgomery County Courthouse with our children gathered around us. We had spent nearly four years in a long, prayerful process—endless phone calls, stacks of paperwork, interviews, waiting, and wondering. And now, standing before a judge, a 10-year-old boy from Uganda officially became our son.

His name was changed that day. He became a Lawson. And in that one moment, everything changed. He became our child—not just emotionally (that had already happened), but legally and tangibly. Not just in our hearts, but in the eyes of the law. From that point forward, he wasn’t a guest in our home. He wasn’t a temporary part of our life. He is family. Ours. Forever.

It was beautiful … but it wasn’t easy.

Adoption rarely is. There’s always pain somewhere in the story—loss, brokenness, uncertainty. And yet, in the middle of that struggle, love steps in. Love chooses to stay. Love fights through the mess. That day in court marked a milestone on a long, hard road—but the road didn’t end there. It kept going. It still goes on. Because welcoming a child into your home isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a lifelong commitment.

Nearly four years later, on February 15, 2022, we found ourselves on a very different—but equally life-changing—path. We were handed a tiny four-day-old baby boy, fresh from the hospital. No heads-up. No plan. Just a text message that redirected our family in an instant. We didn’t know what the future would look like. We didn’t have guarantees. But we had one thing to offer: love. Love that provides. Love that welcomes. Love that says, “You belong.”

I’ll be honest—adoption isn’t tidy. It’s unpredictable. It’s messy. It’s costly. But it’s real and it’s powerful. Because adoption brings a child from the outside in. From uncertainty to security. From longing to belonging.

And that’s not just our story; it’s your story too, because it’s God’s story.

In Romans 8, Paul tells us that we have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again—but a Spirit of adoption, by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” And in those two words—“Abba, Father”—something incredible happens. We’re not just set free … we’re welcomed home.

That’s what I want us to recognize today: Through the Spirit, God sets us free and welcomes us into His family.

Salvation isn’t just about being declared innocent. It’s about being embraced as a child. It’s not just that God forgives your sin—He invites you into His home. He calls you His own.

So as we work our way through our key text, Romans 8:12–17, we’ll discover the beauty of what it truly means to belong—to be known, to be loved, and to be welcomed home.

Paul begins this section with the words, “So then …” or your translation may say, “Therefore …” – and that points us back to everything he’s just said. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. We’ve been set free. We’ve been made alive. We’ve been indwelt by the Holy Spirit. And now, Paul shifts from what is true about us to what’s expected of us. Because the gospel doesn’t just change our status—it changes our allegiance. In Christ …

I. We Are Called to a New Allegiance (vs. 12-13)

Let’s look together at verses 12-13 – “So then, brothers and sisters, we are under obligation, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—for if you are living in accord with the flesh, you are going to die; but if by the Spirit you are putting to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”

Paul starts with this powerful word: “obligation.” It’s the language of a debtor—someone who owes something to someone else; they are under obligation. And here’s what he says of us …

A. We Owe Nothing to the Flesh

Look again at verse 12: “... we are under obligation, not to the flesh …”

That old master—our fleshly nature, with its cravings, pride, addictions, and insecurity—never gave us anything but death. It didn’t serve us; it enslaved us. It made promises it could never keep. It whispered, “This will satisfy you,” but left us more empty than ever before. That’s what the flesh does.