I put my
trust in Your mercy; my heart is joyful because of Your saving help. Psalm 13:5
Meanwhile the eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to
the mountain where Jesus arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell
down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He
said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore,
make disciples of all the nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and
of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them the commands I gave you. And
know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.’ Matthew 28:16-20
For three days I have been meditating on the story of
the prodigal son. It is a story about returning. I realize the importance of
returning over and over again. My life drifts away from God. I have to return.
My heart moves away from my first love. I have to return. My mind wanders to
doubt and fear. I have to return. Returning is a lifelong struggle.
It strikes me that the wayward son had rather selfish
motivations. He said to himself, “How many of my father’s paid servants have
more food than they want, and here am I dying of hunger? I will leave this
place and go to my father.” I am moved by the fact that the father didn’t
require any further motivation. His love was so total and unconditional that he
simply welcomed his son home.
God does not require a pure heart before embracing us.
God’s love does not require any explanations about why we are returning. God is
glad to see us home and wants to give us all we desire, just for being home. Henri Nouwen, The
Road to Daybreak
“…and some hesitated.”
After all that.
But Jesus did not. Rather
he welcomed the strugglers into His call to go and make disciples of all
nations, teaching them to love the LORD God with all of their heart, soul,
spirit and body, and likewise to love their neighbor as themselves.
Yes He is merciful. And
full of compassion. unconditionally.
And yesterday afternoon my
brother Tom fed me crackers and cheese while we sat in his kitchen and talked
about life. And death. He told me this story about J. B. Phillips the Bible
translator, who was in his living room watching television, when suddenly the
recently dead C. S. Lewis appeared sitting in a chair within a few feet of him,
“ruddier in complexion than ever, grinning all over his face and
positively glowing with health. The interesting thing to me was that I had not
been thinking about him at all. And I was neither alarmed nor surprised. He was
just there.” But what Tom found most thought-provoking was Lewis’ message of
comfort, “It’s not as hard as you think, you
know.”
And the other night, while Alan and Jon went to
band practice, Pamela and I and the kids watched a BBC television show that has
been tracking a small group selected to represent a cross-section of Londoners.
Starting when they were seven, and every seven years since, they have been
interviewed about life questions such as dreams and plans and opinions on
family, love and purpose. We watched Year 56, which included snippets from over
the years as life happened. And at the end of the show, Charly, the stunningly
beautiful eighteen-year-old headed off to Barnard in the fall declared, “Well,
that was depressing.” And Pamela and I looked at each other in surprise.
Because really, when it was all said and done, these folks were basically
pretty happy with their lot in life, a job of sorts, food in the belly and the
kids were doing pretty well with grandchildren on the way.
“It’s not as hard as you think, you know.”
And Tom and I, on separate
ends of the continent have both come to the conclusion that when it is all said
and done, and this world is rolled up like a carpet and He returns in full
glory, it’s going to be a lot different that we have been brought up to
believe. We see but through a glass dimly. I don’t think those Dallas
Theological Seminary color-coded charts with arrows pointing up and down
capture the Father’s heart. And I suspect that much of the heartbreak will be
the realization that I spent far too much time and effort and sweat and anxiety
on stuff that is going to be tossed into the fire and burned. And speaking of
tossing, anything that I did invest in wisely and in His footsteps is going to
be tossed joyously at His feet.
And this is a great
release, as I prepare to celebrate my fifty-seventh year of life. Freedom. Joy.
Love. Day after day returning again to He is the center, I am not. And He knows
my heart. And mind. And soul. And my faulty motivations. And my dustiness.
And still He rejoices over
me, His child returning. He waits out at the end of the road to welcome me. And
runs to embrace me. And calls for a great celebration.
Grant me the grace of your
Holy Spirit that I may be devoted to you with my whole heart.
O God, you have taught me to keep all your
commandments by loving you and my neighbor: Grant me the grace of your Holy
Spirit, that I may be devoted to you with my whole heart, and united to others
with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with
you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
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