He Restores.

He was an awkward child, born severely cross-eyed into a home of not one but two raging alcoholic parents. He was the youngest of 5 children and was 2 years old when social services came into his home and took custody of him and his other siblings. The agency estimated that the children had been alone in the home uncared for approximately 3 days. The young 2 year old had a broken arm that had not been set and had a rat bite. This boy was sent to a foster home alone, while the rest of his brothers and sisters were divided up and were placed in other homes as well. Their parents? They were found in a near by motel behind a bar passed out after what most of us would refer to as being on a bender. It was this intervention that would lead Daryl Kirby’s life in a different direction. The painful rescue would cause him to be moved several times in and out of foster homes, until finally he was adopted at the age 4 1/2. One year later, a 3 month old would be adopted by the same family. How do I know this story? Because Daryl Kirby was my brother.

My earliest memories of my childhood of him are sweet treasures. He was tenderhearted and generous to a fault, but he struggled to fit in. After several eye surgeries, Daryl was fitted with glasses and most of his normal sight restored. I used to tease him and tell him we were going to turn orange from the amount of carrots we consumed from our mother placing them at the table as healing nutrition. He was taunted at school and referred to as four-eyes. When I started school, I found myself as part of the enforcer team defending his honor and sometimes his safety. He was in and out of trouble at school and at the tender age of 8 he stole his first bike. He took it from a child who had plenty and gave it to the Hardy children, the poorest family in the neighborhood. In later years my mother shared that it took her a long time to deter the habit of Daryl stealing and hoarding food.

He would hide frequently for extended periods of time but as I grew, I learned his favorite spots and could coax him out. Despite our age difference, I took on the role as the older sibling and he depended on me. In turn I depended on him to fix my broken toys, as he was predispositioned to take everything a part and could put most everything back together—everything except himself. 

He would grow into a rolling stone that gathered no moss. After a premature general discharge from the army, Daryl hit the road to see the world. Many nights, I would hear my parents praying for his safe return. Months would go by and we wouldn’t hear from him, but suddenly he would appear at the back door at dinner time and my parents would be overwhelmed with joy and relief.  And as suddenly as he would appear, he would be gone again and a post card from California or New Orleans would show up telling us of his latest adventure. In later years, my mother said she watched a show about older adoptees, and said she realized Daryl had what was diagnosed as ‘failure to attach’. Mom said no one knew what that was in 1958, but she said it helped her understand Daryl’s struggles, and assisted her in forgiving him and herself for the heartbreak they had endured. She said this information restored her hope that Daryl might find stability and peace before she left this earth. As far back as I can remember, my father diligently prayed for Daryl’s restoration and his hope for this waxed and waned over the course of time.

Webster defines the word, restoration as “a return or reestablishment of something to its former, original, normal or unimpaired condition, renewal or revival.” According to Webster this is what we sought for my brother: Restoration. When I began the study of the 23rd Psalm, I started to examine what was David conveying when he made the most poignant statement in the Psalm —“He restores my soul?”

Despite that David was older when he composed this Psalm, most scholars and theologians believe it was written before his affair with Bathsheba and the subsequent murder of her husband, Uriah. It lacks the repentant tone that some of his other later Psalms possess. It doesn’t mean David believes he is without sin, it means that this Psalm is a song of worship, a declaration of praise. It is a confession of God’s wonderful goodness and faithfulness. David understood that the redeeming quality of Gods’ restoration is paramount to His children. It is the most benevolent gift He offers. Long before David was born, God promised in Genesis when man broke away in unfaithfulness in the garden, that He would indeed send a restorer. Christ our Redeemer. Our Restorer. 

David himself is not alone in his mention of restoration. The Old Testament is filled with God’s promise of restoration to his children. Despite Israel’s ongoing cyclical unfaithfulness, God continues to pursue them and restore them. Even God’s motive of discipline towards people is not motivated by anger to punish, but by His great love to restore. It is an innate part of His character. Galatians states that ‘anyone who is in Christ, will be made new.’ David would need this incredible act of merciful restoration after he blew his whole life a part and reigned as king over Israel for just a few moments of pleasure and passion. The scriptures record that after this great heartbreak in David’s life, God Himself would refer to David as, “a man after God’s own heart.” It’s God’s way of saying to David, ”We are Good.” Now that’s restoration. If ever you have been part of a broken relationship you know how valuable repentance and forgiveness is. They are the foundation for restoration. David had already proclaimed prior to these events the foundational principles behind restoration. 

1. He proclaimed God as his Lord—- a relationship of onlyness and fidelity. It was not a polytheistic perspective, but a monotheistic one.

2. He confessed God as his sole provider.

3. He states that because of this relationship, David has access to both rest and guidance. As a result of all this, David confesses that he can experience restoration.

Too many times, I have asked God for restoration while my unbelief, non-reliance and lack of faith and fellowship hinder me from receiving it. I don’t have to earn Christ’s restorative grace, but I do have to commit to it. I tell my life group, Jesus doesn’t date, He likes to get married. I want all the benefits of grace and restoration without submitting my will or my ways. No wonder I struggle  sometimes in brokenness and doubt, restoration is simply impossible to obtain without grace.

In these last few months, I have heard this term the “new normal.” It’s the adaptation required for our post pandemic perspective. My brain gets this, but my heart cries out for the old normal. I desire for the days of carefree hugs and handshakes to return. I refer to our masked days as the time when the world lost its smile. I don’t want modification, or adaptation, my heart longs for restoration.
  
Then in my quiet meditation, I remember that God has given me not a temporal lens to view my life through, but an eternal lens. He reminds me that while my circumstances may not be restored, my soul can be. Externally nothing may change, but internally everything can transform. This is the secret that those with physical challenges who succeed in overcoming their inabilities discover. Out of soul restoration comes the spirit of one who can move forward. They recognize that restoration comes in more ways than one.

For me, restoration has come even in the hour of tragedy. My brother Daryl, was 52 when he finally succumbed to metastatic colon cancer. When he was diagnosed at age 49, he was given 6 months. Because of the advanced stage of his diagnosis, he entered many trials at the University of Tennessee hospital. He came home to my parents from California with his wife and 2 daughters in tow. Daryl moved into the small home my folks had on the back of their acreage where our favorite Uncle Bill had lived until he passed away. Daryl spent the next 3 years in close fellowship with my folks and often my dad would say to me, “it took cancer for Daryl to let me love him.” My dad would often drive Daryl the 30 plus mile to the hospital for relentless treatments that made him deathly ill. Many times they made their way back home with my brother laying his head in my father’s lap as he drove. They would tinker on cars on good days and sit on the porch on bad ones. I saw then that for those of us who trust personally, God continues to restore us until He takes us home to be with him. Even in sickness and death, God restored a son to set of parents who prayed for a lifetime that it would happen. 

As I sat at his bedside in Hospice, between naps and labored breathing, we laughed at memories and Daryl apologized for not living long enough to help me clean out Dad’s garage. I asked him where he buried my barbie dolls, and where he drove dad’s New Chrysler Newport the time he “borrowed” it and put 500 miles on it in a mere day. Daryl said “some things should remain a mystery.” My parents were up in age and had gone home to rest when I stepped out briefly to get a cup of tea when Daryl slipped away quietly. As I prepared to call my folks, I ask the Lord to give me comforting graceful words. All I said was, “Daryl made it home safely.” They fully understood what they had waited a lifetime to happen, Daryl Kirby Phillips had been fully restored. He had been put back in his original condition, renewed, revived and without impairment. 

–Sharon, The 5 o’clock worker