This Is What Gets Me

This is what gets me: that in our meandering, in our passage towards home, often stumbling, often wandering off the path, dreading the thought of return for we have squandered all that we have, there is Someone waiting for us. And He is filled with longing, a deep ache, always looking at the distant horizon for our homecoming. We are caught up in the mystery and the profound joy of being found. Mysterious for we know we do not deserve such a welcome, mysterious for we know we have been wasteful, reckless, uncaring but we have caught a whiff of the richness in our Father’s embrace, the smell of deep love, the aroma of childhood memories, and realize we are home. Our tears of regret and shame flowing copiously now mingle with the tears of sincere delight offered as a sacrifice of praise. He has made us welcome. He is our home.

This is what gets me: that in this act of acceptance, a price has been paid, a payment exacted with calculated precision, a sacrifice has to be made. Every act of rebellion, every moment spent in wastefulness meant the giving away of something far more precious than our own lives. We now realize that what we have squandered in our profligate lives has been paid back in full. The royal robes put on us, the fatted calf slaughtered in our behalf – these were emblematic of what has transpired so that this homecoming is effected. That in His tender, yet powerful love, in His generosity that astounds us and takes our breathe, the Father made the ultimate sacrifice, and humiliation by paying for our sins.