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.