I was thinking this morning that the holiday season must have been doubly awful for the Father of the prodigal son. Waiting for the lost to come home is hard enough without adding all the gaiety and joy that circles around Him as He does. (I realize that there was no 'Christmas' back then, so insert any Jewish festivity here.) He probably dissed the whole holiday thing, politely turning down the eggnog, and smiling faintly at the carols that are sung behind Him while He stands vigil at the window. His concentration wouldn't be on parties, gifts . . it probably wasn't even on 'good will toward all men'. It was centered on His lost boy.
So while Christmas swirls around us all, I think on my God. I can see Him, staring out the window, His focus intent on the road just out side the house. He never sleeps, He never moves from there. Because maybe, just maybe, that kid will turn that corner. Maybe He'll get him back. I think this season means nothing to Him, save how it can bring the lost home. While we live our lives, He continues His love with a terrible but 'beyond words' beautiful patience.
Wow.
1 comment:
Wow indeed. I love how you think about God so freely and intimately, as though He's someone who drops by to visit you frequently. Please keep sharing these insights - they truly touch my soul.
Love you!
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