Welcome Home

God continues to speak to my heart... I confess that I often want it to happen in moments fraught with emotion... usually tears... tears of joy, tears of repentance, tears of... whatever.  But the reality is that His voice usually comes quietly, gently, shedding light on some previously unseen bit of truth.  This weekend brought moments of illumination...

My church has been doing a sermon series on the story of the prodigal son.  The overall title of the series is "Finding Your Way Back to God".  This week's sermon was titled "Can I Get Back Home From Here?"  Throughout the message, our pastor reminded us of the reality that home has always been there and always will be.  The problem seems to come in our understanding of what will happen when we get there.

He used Rembrandt's painting "The Return of the Prodigal Son" as an illustration... and it was one that helped me greatly.  In this painting, the prodigal son is pictured kneeling in rags at the feet of his father who is dressed in rich robes.  As the pastor spoke, he described what may have been going through the son's head.  Here he kneels at his father's feet, hoping at best to be allowed to work as a servant in his father's house, but expecting to be turned away to find a job so he might repay the inheritance he has squandered.  This would be justice... being given a chance to make restitution for the wrong he has done to his father and his family.  This is what he deserves.

Instead, his father welcomes him home.  This is mercy... not getting what you deserve.  The father grants him forgiveness... a chance at a new day.

But even further than that, the father replaces his rags with a robe, restoring his identity as son.  This is grace... getting what you don't deserve... and grace is the power to live out the new day as though yesterday didn't even happen.

Somewhere during this illustration, I realized that I have been stuck at justice.  We all get there at some point in time... we recognize our sin and its consequences... it's part of repentance.  But if we get stuck there (as I have), we try to make up for our sin in some way.  We believe that we must get what we deserve.  In my case, I come before God with my rags and instead of letting him dress me in the clothes He has for me, I insist on wearing the rags until I can afford to buy new clothes on my own.  That's not God's desire.  He sent His Son to make restitution for my sin already.  All He wants from me is acceptance of the mercy and grace He pours out on me... to stand up, clothed in dignity, and walk in the new day He has given me as His dearly loved daughter.

No matter where you have been or where you are, you are never too lost to come home.  And when you get there, don't keep yourself at the gate, but walk boldly to the dining room table and feast with the Father whose mercy and grace claim you as His child.