We are about two weeks into our Lenten journey. Today's readings come as powerful reminders that Lent is not about what we are doing for God, but what God is doing for us! They describe a God who "delights in clemency" not judgment. A God who cares not about what we have done, only that we are home. A God who says to us "everything I have is yours." Today's Gospel is very familiar to us. The Pharisees and scribes are complaining that Jesus welcomes sinners, and actually sits down to eat with them, so Jesus tells them a story about God, about just how much God wants everyone to come home, no matter who they are or what they have done. Even someone who has done the most outrageous thing – one who demands his inheritance from his father before he has died, who then spends it all on momentary pleasures and self gratification, and then has the audacity to try to come home!! I had an experience the other day that helped me see something else in this reading. We are currently providing foster care for a Pyrenees dog. Chloe is very sweet tempered but extremely fearful from previous neglect. She will fly through open doors to get as much distance between her and just about anything or anyone new and unfamiliar. On day two, at 6 AM, I was not as vigilant as I should have been, and she bolted outside as I was letting our other dogs in. Without her 20 foot lead anchored to the deck, fueled by fear, she was easily able to hurdle the 4 foot fence from snow banks covered in freshly fallen snow, and was quickly gone from sight. Phone calls were made. A drive through the neighborhood gave no sign of her. With the open fields around us I feared she was halfway to Kansas. An hour later, when there was some daylight, I decided to go out and see if I could pick up the trail from her 6 foot leash in the newly fallen snow. My neighbor, a county sheriff, was putting out trash and I told him what had happened, wondering if he had any experience with this sort of thing. He looked over my shoulder and said “You mean that dog?” pointing about 15 feet behind me. What!?!? There was Chloe, standing between two snow banks across the street from our house. (Had she been hiding in the snow banks the whole time? Somehow knowing this was a safe place, but still too frightened to come closer? Had she heard my voice?) For the next half hour, Chloe circled the small group of neighbors and dogs that had gathered; coming close enough to nudge and sniff, clearly wanting to be part of the play, but taking off before anyone could step on her leash. She never went more than 20 feet away, even though open fields were available to her. And then I went between the houses with Tippy, my dog with whom Chloe had started to bond, and within seconds Chloe was by my side, sitting. Home at last. I’m sure the younger son came near his father’s house and waited, both wanting and fearing to come closer… Shall I go on? No, he will never take me back. But where else can I go? We, too, like Chloe, like the younger son, want so much to come home to God, but we are also scared. How close can I get? What will be asked of me? This is close enough. It’s not so bad out here, taking care of myself, I can survive. I can make it on my own. Or, What I did was so awful, I can’t face the punishment that is sure to come, I prefer the company of my shame. Both wanting and fearing the intimacy. How is God drawing you closer today? Will you let yourself be drawn close and brought home? |