One Walks, One Runs

The road home can be a long road indeed, if not for the distance involved, then for the weight of sins carried as one trudges along. I know where home is. That's not the problem. I know of my Father and have had many sweet and meaningful moments with Him in the past. But now, even as I may edge ever closer to home, my pace slows. I think I know Him, even trust Him. It's myself that I no longer believe in. The loss and destitution I feel makes me think that no one would ever receive me... not even Him.

In Jesus' masterful parable of the lost son far from home, afraid and alone, He (Jesus) gives us some insight into what may have been happening back at the old home place. He tells us that as the son was still far away, (and how far is left to our imagination), the Father seeing him (or knowing somehow of his approach) ran to him. He ran then fell upon him. He kissed him repeatedly. We can surmise then, with just that one and first sentence of full recovery yet to come, that while the son was alone, afraid, weakened and moving so slowly – the father was probably unhappier still.

While the father may have sat at the dinner table in the presence of family, busy servants and perhaps friends, his mood was dark and brooding. Someone made a joke in the midst of the dinner conversation. Everyone laughed. Everyone but the father. He smiled but refused to do more. And he did that only out of seeking to be polite. He went for long walks in morning and evening. He moved along past his own fields and servants. He gazed upon his property. He saw his barns full and overflowing. He walked on. He was there. But he was never really there. Not since that day. Not since the day his youngest son had gone away.

Could it be true that unhappy as we may be as we move slowly down the road, our Father is unhappier than we could ever be? Jesus seems to allude to this in Matthew 18:12. A real shepherd, having a great many sheep, cannot stay but must leave to search for the one that is lost. He cannot help himself. He has many sheep safe in His care, but His mood is dark and brooding. He must go. He must search.

At that last supper, Jesus said an astounding thing. He said, “But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom.” (Matt. 26:29) (KJV) Was He saying that He, even in His reigning glory of that Kingdom, would never feel complete and whole until all of His beloved friends have been gathered to His table and to His side? If not that then I would be unsure of anything He might have meant to thus say in the presence of those men in those last hours together.

We walk, even as we move toward a home we know or think we know. We walk. He runs. Somewhere He meets us on the road. We walk slowly; His pace ever quickens as He moves toward us. Even at the first His pace is rapid. Then suddenly His feet begin to almost fly. Finally He bolts into a hard and desperate run.

“How shall I give thee up..." (Hosea 11:8) (KJV)

Heavenly Father, God of unending and unyielding mercy, I walk alone today. Meet me somewhere on the road. Amen.

That First Step

So, I should just go ahead and admit, here and now, that despite the many years I've spent in the christian life and way, I still know or have known very little about living by faith and by that I mean, only by faith. I'll leave my suspected reasons for this to another journal entry and another time. Suffice it say, I begin now where I suppose I should have always begun, knowing little – wanting more.

If you are reading this journal today it may mean that, you too, know little but want more. And it may mean that you have come to where you are as I came to where I am. I came to this place because I have come to the end of myself. I have come to the end of all that I can do to help myself. I have exhausted my mind and body in an overwhelming struggle to defend myself, and commend myself, and extend myself. And I have accomplished none of it.

Obviously, this is not the definitive guide to living by faith written by someone who is learned and schooled in such matters and who has had years of experience living where and how this life should be lived (must be lived). I have none of that and I can offer you very little in that kind of steady assistance. This is simply of journal of someone trying to know and seek the wisdom that really only comes from God. (Proverbs 9:10)

You can read all the books ever written and learn almost nothing if indeed you have little or no desire to learn. I finally have reached that place where I want to learn. (No, I need to learn.) I invite you to join me as I move along in this pathway. My steps will be careful and probably painfully slow. I'm perfectly willing to learn slowly if I can only learn well. This is my personal journal of how God has spoken to me and might speak to me again as I try to move back to the faith.

I have lived long and lost a great deal of what I thought mattered most. I'm taking this road now not because I chose it first or best. I've chosen this road now because it is the only road left. The prodigal son walked this road long ago in a beautiful story that Jesus once told. (Luke 15:11) He had lost everything. So, without much confidence he said to himself, “I'll go to my Father's house.” He walked that road not because he chose it first or best. He walked that road because it was the only road left. He could take it or die. He looked out across where the land meets the sky. He groaned within himself. He took a deep breath. He took a step.