I am a foster dad.

While we were dating, even before we were engaged, my wife and I talked about adoption.

We both viewed adoption as a logical consequence and expression of the gospel by which we have been saved and in which we stand: God, before the foundation of the world, chose Alyssa and me in Christ to be His daughter and son. He did this, not because of we were, but because of who He is.

Scripture uses the image of adoption in so many places to illustrate God’s grace to helpless and hopeless sinners. It seemed obvious for us to follow suit.

From the beginning of our relationship, Alyssa and I have understood ourselves as recipients of the love of God through our adoption into His family, and we have desired to embody that love in real, physical, literal adoption.

At some point, we decided to get licensed to be foster parents. I’m not sure if it was during our engagement or shortly after we got married. We thought of foster care as a step toward adoption. I thought, “These kids need parents and homes and love. Foster care will give us some exposure to the challenges and process of adoption, albeit in a diluted form.”

I can’t speak for my wife, but I had no idea what foster care is.


About two months ago, our second child arrived.

Unlike our first child, we didn’t have nine-months’ notice to prepare for his arrival. Unlike our first child, he came with a history — four previous homes, a blanket he can’t sleep without, and a full set of teeth (even though he’s only one year old).

Unlike our first child, he probably will not be “ours” forever.

But just like our first child, he is “ours” for now.


A big part of the licensing process for foster care was a trauma-informed parenting class. In the class, we talked about some of the differences between foster care and adoption. The most significant difference is the goal of each:

The primary goal of adoption is the integration of a child into a new family.

The primary goal of foster care, on the other hand, is the re-integration of a child back into the family he or she already has.

When I call myself a “foster dad,” I mean that I am an ally of both my foster child and his birth mother.

Acts 17.26–27 is clear: there are no accidents. Where and to whom I was born were determined by the sovereign Creator of the cosmos. My parents are my parents because God, according to the counsel of His own will, gave me to them (and vice versa).

Similarly, my foster son’s circumstances are not without meaning or purpose. His birth mother is his birth mother because God, according to the counsel of His own will, gave him to her (and vice versa).

As a foster dad (and as a child of that sovereign Creator), I cannot overlook that fact. If the primary goal of foster care is the re-integration of my foster son back into his birth family — the one originally given to him by our Creator — then it is an eternally significant endeavor. If the primary goal of foster care is the re-integration of my foster son back into his birth family, that needs to be my goal as well.

Most foster children are not orphans. Most foster children have parents who are working very hard to get them back.

Although it is very different from adoption, foster care is still an image of the gospel. Foster parents love broken families, sacrificing time and energy to love hurting children as well as parents who, often, have made terrible mistakes.

We love our foster son and his birth mother not because of who they are, but because of who God is.

Foster care is not adoption, but neither is it baby-sitting.

We have had our foster son for two months now. I don’t know how many meals I have fed him, but I do know that it is the same number as my daughter. I don’t know how many times I’ve brushed his teeth or changed his diapers or held him while he cried. At a certain level I am just as responsible for him as I am for my own biological daughter.

When he gets sick, my wife and I are the ones who take him to the doctor. When he needs new shoes, my wife and I are the ones who put him in the stroller and attempt to navigate the too-narrow aisles of Payless Shoes. When he doesn’t want to eat the food we prepared for him, my wife and I are the ones who need to figure out what to do.

And with everything we do, there is paper-work to be filled out, there are case-workers asking questions, there are state agencies giving us tasks to complete.


There is a child in my home who calls me “Dada” and who could be placed in another home at almost any moment. My wife or I get him up every morning and put him down every night, and we will do this until something changes.

God has not placed me in my foster son’s life as a permanent father. I am not his “dad” in the same way or to the same degree that I am the dad of my biological daughter. God has, however, placed me in his life as a very real father for this season. I am “dad” for now.

Alyssa and I do so much more than “watch” our foster son. We are raising him, and we are doing that because God has appointed us to do that. That fact constantly humbles me.

Foster care is not easy. It is terrible and heart-breaking and so, so hard.

But this is how my wife and I are serving our Lord and blessing our city.


If you are a member of our church, or if you know a foster family at your own church, please pray about how you can love and bless and support us. Below are a few sites with suggestions.

Ten Simple Ways Your Church Can Serve Foster Families

15 Ways to Be a Foster Care Friendly Church

Also, please check out the following Facebook pages dedicated to foster care.

Together We Rise

Humans of Foster Care

Here’s an article I like from The Gospel Coalition:

Wanted: Parents Willing to Get Too Attached

Don’t like to read? Watch a video.

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Joseph Henry Kester

Written by

Christian husband, father, teacher, nerd.

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