Richard Foster wrote a book on prayer and I’ve worn one of its pages thin since reading it for the first time.
He wrote, today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.
And he is inviting you – and me – to come home, to come home to where we belong, to come home to that for which we were created. His arms are stretched out wide to receive us. His heart is enlarged to take us in. For too long we have been in a far country: a country of noise and hurry and crowds, a country of climb and push and shove, a country of frustration and fear and intimidation. And he welcomes us home: home to serenity and peace and joy, home to friendship and fellowship and openness, home to intimacy and acceptance and affirmation. We do not need to be shy.
Foster takes the truths that swim around our minds – but never pierce our hearts – and reawakens our souls to them. He takes us along the 18 inch journey, from head to heart, so we can better grasp the gift of communion. To know the wonder and depth of God’s love that compelled Him to send His son for you, and for me. To see the path, which now lay before us, that leads us home.
Reading this got me thinking, how many of us carry wounds that tell the tales of unloveableness, unworthiness, and indignity? How many of us walk around maintaining the proper head knowledge, but still ache from a bleeding heart? How many of us could recite the gospel story and not live according to its radical truths because the raw and awestruck wonder of Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection is stuck in hibernation? How many of our souls are wandering the Valley of Dry Bones, waiting for God’s Spirit to breathe new life into us? None of us are immune to living half awake at one time or another.
In light of your current afflictions and wanderings: when you think about God, what emotions sweep over you? Do His arms feel like a welcome place to be? Are you eager to open up the doors and the windows of your heart, or do you anxiously shut the blinds, afraid of what might happen if He sees you as you are?
In Colossians, it says that the Lord was pleased to dwell in the body of Jesus. Now, through the Holy Spirit, God dwells within each of us. This is a place God would not go if He were not willing and able. Because of this, His presence is nearer than the air we breathe. He is but a weary exhale, or a joy-filled cry away. He is not far. He is ever near. This is wonderful news.
Home is just around the corner.
And He is waiting for you and me to come and rest our heads in His arms – where we belong.
We need not be afraid. We need not run and hide. We need not turn to noise and hurry and frustration and fear to build up walls of protection. We need not be saved from God, but by Him. God is good and loving and kind – He goes before us and hems us in from behind. His home is flooded with peace, joy, acceptance, and freedom; it, too, has many rooms, with space enough for each of us to lay our weary heads.
When you think about God, I pray feelings of relief, safety, rest, peace, and joy come to mind. I pray the reality of His kingdom, and your place in it, falls afresh upon your lovesick heart. I pray God’s spirit would awaken your soul to the riches of His love for you.
God is waiting for us to call on Him, to run into His arms like a child falling into the arms of a parent, because His heart swells with love and eagerness as He thinks of us.
So much so, that God sent His one and only son into the world to take our place, so that we could die to sin and live for righteousness. On the cross, Jesus became our Great Mediator, and made a way for us to come home again. Because of love, He made a way. For you and for me. For our best days and our worst days, Jesus made a way. Thanks be to God.
Do Not Hesitate
How do we respond, then, to a love like that? One that carried the weight of humanity’s brokenness for all of time? We return. We set our foot along the paths that draw us home. We do not hesitate.
We run to the Father, and we waste no time. We pack our bags, leaving nothing behind – not our worries or our fears or our obsessions with muchness or manyness – and head down the path that leads to the presence because the Father is waiting. For you and for me. He is waiting to show us the fullness of life He always hoped for us to have. He is waiting to heal our wounds, and show us that He is present with us in our sufferings.
Often, we only talk about coming home for the first time. We rejoice over stories of prodigal sons and daughters returning to home to God after seasons of choosing other loves. God delights as every one of His kids wander along the beaten path, toward His house. He rejoices when His children run to Him to celebrate, to weep, to dance, and to mourn. He loves spending time with us. He loves when He sees us coming from a mile away. He loves when we run to Him. He loves when we turn to Him in our sorrows and our joys.
God longs for our presence, no matter how short or how long it’s been.
Come to the Father
This goes, too, for the ones who talk to Him, but not frequently. Who are hiding away, though they desperately need someone to talk to. Who have prayers they’re too afraid to speak out loud or write in a journal (the Father knows them all). Who need a miracle but aren’t so sure that God would waste one on them. This goes, too, for those who talk to God, but only when they need something. Who feel on fire for Jesus until they have to walk through it.
Jesus is for everyone.
His arms are open wide to receive us, no matter where we find ourselves. No matter whether we’re wrestling with grief or shame or lust or depression or worldly temptations. God welcomes us home with warmth and openness – with an invitation that never expires – to sit at His table and enjoy a moment with Him. We need not be shy. Our Father’s heart is good and it is pure. He wants the best for us.
His best is what only He can give you. He wants to take you to higher heights and deeper depths.
So, you, dear Beloved – who think God is mad at you,
You, who fear the terror of the night,
You, who are weary and burdened,
You, who think you do not need God,
You, who love Jesus but think he’s disappointed in you,
You, who fear you’ve gone too far to be forgiven again,
You, who think it’s been too long and these truths no longer apply to you because of what you’ve done –
your invitation has not expired.
Come to the Father.
Taste and see that the Lord is good.
Come and see His goodness in the land of the living.
Open up the windows of your soul, and the door of your heart. Find rest for your weary soul, through the unforced rhythms of grace bought for us with the blood and the body of Jesus.
Come to the Father.
Receive His love today.
EMBOLDENED 