I once wrote about adoption that it is "not for the fainthearted." I describe the process as knocking down a row of dominoes one at a time. We are at that point in the process where we do what we need to do at the moment whether it makes sense or not. Papers have to be signed and notarized. Then another paper, called an apostille, has to be obtained from the State to authenticate the notary.
Yesterday I drove to Houston to apply for our entry visas. For those unfamiliar with visas, this is a document placed inside your passport that gives you permission to enter a country for a specific purpose (tourism, work, etc.) for a specific period of time. American citizens can enter many countries in Europe without a visa, but Russia requires you to obtain permission to enter. The process allows them to control who can enter, how long you stay, and keep track of you while you are there. Staying in the country after your visa expires leads to legal consequences. To be fair, Russian citizens go through a similar procedure to enter the U.S.
Countries can be fussy about who crosses their borders. I remember that when I lived in Africa, Tanzania and Kenya would not let visitors from one country enter the other. Because of apartheid, some African nations would not allow someone with a South African entry stamp in their passport enter their county. So, South Africa would give us "loose-leaf" visas to stamp, otherwise we would have to obtain a duplicate passport just for traveling to South Africa. But I digress.
The Russian consulate conducts this application process daily between 9am and noon, so I left Weatherford at 3am. I allowed enough time for a couple of stops and Houston's morning traffic, so I managed to arrive right on time thanks to Iris, the voice on my GPS unit. A polite Russian gentleman pointed me toward a chair in front of the window where visa business is conducted. The window was closed. Others who arrived after me were pointed toward the waiting room chairs with the simple explanation of, "Line."
After about 45 minutes the window opened and a helpful Russian woman assisted me with the application. She explained that the expedited visa process takes 3 business days not counting the day of application. Since Monday is a Russian national holiday, our visas will not be ready until Tuesday afternoon at 4:00. If we wanted them returned to us by FedEx then they would not be picked up until Wednesday morning to be delivered on Thursday before we leave on Friday. She was uncomfortable with that slim margin of error. With all due respect to the Federal Express Corporation, I agreed with her, took back my FedEx envelope and made plans to return on Tuesday to pick up our passports with visas affixed. Everything else was in order; applications printed on two sides rather than two sheets of paper, black ink with block letters and one letter per block, every question completed, photos affixed, blank pages available in the passports, and a money order for the processing fee attached.
I was out of the consulate at 10:15 with another domino knocked down. The adoption process is wearying, but temporary. The real goal is the relationship with our son that will last for a lifetime.
In my younger days I imagined entrance to heaven in a similar manner. I would wait in a line in a lobby before being called to a window to present my application that I would nervously hope was correctly completed. Somewhere in the process a giant video of my life would be played for everyone to see with appropriate emphasis given to the embarrassing moments. For some reason, I envisioned that a certain measure of shame for my mistakes was required before my heavenly passport could be stamped and I could slide with relief through the pearly gates.
I have, I think, a more healthy understanding of grace these days. The blood of Christ covers my shame and stamps me as his own. I don't know all the details of what will take place. I just know that I won't be worried about FedEx, filling out the application in black ink with block letters, putting the photo in just the right spot the right way, having a money order rather than a check or credit card, or sitting in front of a window waiting for somebody to help me.
I stopped long ago of thinking about heaven, and discipleship, as a fill-in-the-blank process of seemingly endless checklists that knocks down a series of dominoes. I see it now as a relationship with Jesus Christ who has welcomed me, shame and all, into his presence for eternity. No visa required.
