The Child Catchers: Rescue, Trafficking, and the New Gospel of Adoption by Kathryn Joyce

that is epidemic in the world of international adoption, particularly in the large and growing community that sees adoption not just as the means to build a family but also as a rescue mission assigned by God. Although in character Benz may be worlds away from Laura Silsby, in the larger picture that may be a distinction without a difference. In an international adoption field where scandals routinely originate from idealistic plans, good intentions simply aren’t enough.
    THAT NIGHT BENZ, Larissa, and I drove through dark country roads to one of the next closest towns, Millbrook, where BridgeStone’s thirty-something project coordinator, Eric Carr, had helped plant a church at the local YMCA. Benz reflected on the exotic places his missionary work has taken him, from garbage dumps in Mexico City to jungles in the Philippines. “But nothing in my life strikes me as more sacred or more profound than bringing these kids,” he said, expressing a hope that he can continue this work for the rest of his life.
    Carr shares his sense of mission and has passed it on to his staff and a growing circle of volunteers. Many church members at Carr’s small congregation at the Y are involved with BridgeStone. In addition to the three biological children Carr has with his wife, Wendy, they have three children adopted from foster care and a Ukrainian orphan on the way. They have taken their calling so seriously that they live in one of BridgeStone’s donated trailers rent-free in lieu of salary for their work. Members of the congregation followed his lead: a number have become houseparents or volunteers at BridgeStone, and at least four families had already adopted through the year-old program or were in process. The state trooper who had flown in the surprise birthday cake for one group of children was himself a member of the congregation.
    As Eric would tell me, adoption has become a guiding identity not just for his family but also for the church. “It’s who we are, not what we do,which is a totally different thing. I could be a pastor, but we are about adoption.” His statement offers a glimpse into what’s driving Christians like the Benzes as well as Christians like Laura Silsby. Behind these seemingly disparate adoption activists is a growing movement that encourages Christians to see adoption as the ultimate emulation of Christ and an imperative for evangelicals who seek to do their part in the world.
    When we left the Y that night, Eric, a lanky blond with a thoughtful drawl, piled a rag-tag collection of people into the battered family minivan: “ghetto-fabulous,” he said wryly. Carr had run a coffee shop before Benz hired him, and he stressed that he knew his lifestyle—living in a trailer in the deep country and making his income between pastoring and odd construction jobs—is not what most would consider success. But his conviction that adoption was God’s purpose for his life guided him. “I believe that’s probably the clearest picture of the gospel: someone who literally doesn’t know you or have to do anything for you, taking you in to love and care for you. That’s the picture of Jesus.” It hasn’t always been easy, however. One of the children Eric and Wendy adopted from foster care, a fifteen-year-old girl who joined their family at ten, has struggled with emotional and psychological issues. According to Wendy, the daughter is now in a psychiatric facility, dealing with a diagnosis of depression with psychotic features, notably among which were threats to the family. “We found out a long time ago that we’re not the answer,” Wendy told me sadly. “Our love is not enough.”
    As he drove, Eric grew intent as he continued talking. Before he became a pastor, both he and Wendy had spent years in a spiritual wilderness, “pagans in the best sense,” he said with a nostalgic sigh, living wild lives, separate from God. The minivan climbed over eighty miles per hour on the dark highway, and as he