Finding Sanctuary

I have been feeling far away from God.

I've been feeling like maybe I'm not really usable, like I am not good enough for being useful.
 I have been tired, stressed, and sick off and on -- still, no excuse.

GRUMP = Makenzie.

I've given in to my selfishness a few too many times, which means I am not fun to be around. I didn't even like myself.
You'd think I'd get it, go to God, and sort it out.

But this thing hung over me like a thick fog. 

I had gone to a few on-campus outreach events, and I got nothing. 
How could I? I was wrapped up in me.

I was feeling like a very bad Christian.

I was getting to the point of thinking I was hopeless.

Recently, the story of the Prodigal came up. (It's from Luke 15)
You may be familiar with this parable.
I know I am, I've heard it a dozen times at least.

A father has two sons: the younger wants his inheritance and wants to leave his family behind.
The father gives him what he wants and the son goes on his merry way.
The money disappears as the son spends the inheritance on frivolities.
A famine hits the land he's in.
He gets a job.
Feeding pigs is his new occupation. (and pigs were highly unclean to the audience -- they were considered to be just nasty)
He is so hungry, he wants to eat pig slop.
The son realizes his father's servants have it better working for his dad than he does feeding pigs, so he sets off to see his dad to beg for a job.

NOW, this is what hit me:
The son was approaching the father's estate, but he was still far off. 
While he was still far off, his father saw him. He must have been looking for his son.
The father ran to his child.
He wrapped his arms around his son.
He kissed him.

This son is probably nasty from feeding pigs/his journey.
He has nothing. He had insulted his father by saying he wanted his inheritance, which meant his father was dead to him.
His plan was just to beg for a servant's job.
If I were that son, I'd be heading over -- head down, shuffling forward: mortified and full of shame.


I would be embarrassed, rehearsing an apology, hoping it would work to get me some semblance of compassion. 

But his father ran to him. The son didn't even say anything.

After his father hugged him, the son fell at his feet and apologized saying he would gladly work as a servant if it were possible.

But the father gave him the family crest and declared the son was his son and that it was time to rejoice.

The imagery that comes with that makes me feel a deep emotion because I'm getting it.

I have heard this story countless times; I thought I had gotten all I needed from the story.

annnd, I was wrong.

I was just in that spot of realizing that I needed God.

I am admittedly a horrible human being without Him; I don't like who I become when I'm not walking with Him. I'm prideful, whining...well, let's not go there.

I realized how much I needed to reconnect.

So, I was slowing edging towards Him, full of remorse, but not sure how to go about making it all right.

I was far off.

And HE RAN TO ME. 

He embraced me.

I experienced a relief, like when you've been holding your breath underwater and you surface, gulping in fresh air.

Or when you've been out working in the sweltering heat, and you get a glass of ice-cold lemonade and sit in the shade.

That ahhh feeling.


The thought that God runs to us, embraces us, and declares us as HIS, even when we've taken our inheritance and run off, even when we have been pretending like He doesn't matter, is huge.
When we come back, He accepts us.

It's not like He halfheartedly saves, or barely saves us, all the while despairing at how much we screw up.

When we are His, He goes above and beyond, enveloping us in acceptance because He loves us that much.

That kind of love is not like anything else. It is inexplicable...I could try to describe it, but I wouldn't do it justice. It's joy-bringing.