The prodigal son metaphor is used too casually. Bad choices, blah blah blah come home to open arms blah blah blah. You must be part of a redemption story to understand the rich beauty of returning home.
I’ve been dry – that drought I was talking about earlier. But ask for water and prepare for a flood. Turn and reach, He’s here. Even at that last possible minute, when hope is gone, He’s there.
I haven’t gotten that far, but a friend of mine has. My own return was from a dense fog, a series of distractions, a period of poor focus. It feels like I tried to call time out in the middle of a firefight.
This life is often called “the daily grind”, and for good reason. Stop swimming against the tide and it’ll carry you away. Sit down for a rest and lose the race. As you well know, life can wear you down.
I went to visit a friend who’s in the hospital yesterday. She tried to kill herself. It’s a longs story (isn’t it always?) – and not mine to tell – but suffice it to say that things get dark when you feel totally alone.
I hope it’s not her last possible moment, but I also hope she finds Him in the middle of her storm. He’s there with open arms. But we still need to ask, to reach out for His endless love and grace.
Recently, and more than once, the debate over free will vs. predestination has been a topic of conversation. I believe in complete and total free will. We have the legitimate right to choose.
Without choice we can’t be held responsible by a just God – not my fault you see, I was made this way… Better understood that God KNOWS what we’ll choose, but that’s not the same as MAKING us do it.
I’m making a choice.
Yesterday I shook clear a few cobwebs and took a fresh look around. What I saw prompted me to get back to work. I’m asking the boss for another big assignment. I want my friend to come home.