How much do you love?

I have been asked on different occasions if I could come to love the young man who was grafted into our family out of another as much as the two girls that my wife had the privilege of giving birth to. I can feel the adoptive moms and dads flaring their eyes and blood pressure rising, but I think it is a good question to ask. I think it is good because I am completely in love with the answer. The reason we have to ask the question if we can give an adopted or foster child the same amount of love as biological children is because we obviously don't fully understand what love is. It threads back to a deep world view with roots in who we think God is and what He is capable of. I used to believe that God loved us all equally; all of us on the exact same level. I must admit that this core belief sounds neat, but it certainly doesn't feel like love if you are the child. It does not begin to meet the deep need I have to be known. Love is so much deeper and higher than something we could quantify with words like "more" or "equally". Love is not like a math equation or a linear process. My sweet sister-in-law (who is currently 13 years old) would frequently ask me which of my twin daughters I loved more, and it was as if I was being asked to write a math equation instead of a love letter. Love is so much bigger than anything our minds could compare. I can say this without reservation because God made it clearly known to us that He himself is love. Any concept we have of love where we don't include God is simple plagiary. In the same way we could never begin to compare God to any created thing, we could never compare love with quantities and scales. God does not love us equally. It is better than that. It is so much more complex and rich and colourful. In the same way I could never manage to measure my love for my twin girls, putting them on a scale to see who weighs in more, I know that God does not use these methods when He looks down at us. If someone were to ask  me about how I love my baby girls, I would begin to describe who they are; explanations that would be completely intertwined with feelings starting in my belly and getting caught in my throat. I could never love them the same because they are so different. They are so unique and completely distinct representations of a facet of the image of God. God does  not love us the same, because that would mean there is a possibility that He could love something less, as what can be measured must necessarily have a beginning and an end. So when we talk about adoption, I would never tell someone that you can come to love your adopted child "as much" as your biological children. It's better than that. God allows us to experience an intimate part of who He is and love our children uniquely and individually. The moment we seek to compare or grade, we are straying from the One who is the absolute source of love. Do I love the one whose birth I didn't have the privilege to witness the same as my biological daughters? Absolutely not. I love them uniquely and utterly, regardless of the methods God used to bring them under my parental care. The moment we fall back into our humanistic interpretations as one more thing we are to measure and compare, we have taken God out of the picture and kicked over the very soap box we so confidently stand upon. Adoption is hard because we have to create a connection, bringing ourselves to accept, encourage and embrace someone who doesn't share our DNA and many times our culture and comfort. Yet, I can't think of a better representation of the immense love of God that He showed me on the cross. Bringing me into His family when I was born into another, accepting me for who I am and giving me access to everything that His "biological" son Jesus has by birthright. And I choose to swallow my pride and believe the simple words that make me uncomfortable and exposed. God loves me. There is no "more"and there is no "less". I am uniquely His and He is inseparably mine.