The Forgiving Father.

Today in church, we talked about the Parable of the Prodigal Son.  A part of me internally rolled my eyes.  Growing up in church, I've probably heard this story at least 50 times.  The bad son runs away. He ruins his life, lives in filth and poverty, and then he comes crawling back to the father.  The father welcomes him home.  Then, the good son get's bratty and jealous and the father admonishes him.  That part of me wanted to just tune out of the sermon and consider what I would be eating for lunch or when I would get in a much-desired nap.  

But the other part of me, the part that won this morning (though it doesn't always), decided to listen.  And boy am I glad I did.  

You see, when we look at this story, we often pay the most attention to the Prodigal son, then next we focus on his older brother, and finally we might have time for their father.  Isn't that how it should be, focusing on how we fit into the story and how we see ourselves?  

Thing is, Jesus isn't really telling the story so countless pastors can ask their congregation "Which of the father's sons are you?" or "Will you decide to come back to the father?"  Yes, that is important.  And it's something that should definitely be talked about.  But I don't think that was the main point of the parable.  

This is the story of a prodigal son, yes, but more importantly it's about his father.  A dad who gave his son his way, let him make his own mistakes, even though he knew it would turn out bad.  A dad who looked earnestly every day to see if his long lost son would come home.  A dad who, after barely making out his son in the distance, runs to meet him.  

In fact, the dad does more than just run to meet him:

"But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' And they began to celebrate."

Everything that the father does in this passage is exactly what our Father does for us.  In Revelation (interestingly enough, the passage I'm studying in one of the BStuds I'm involved in), we are told that we, the bride, will be clothed in white garments, symbolizing our holiness.  We are given a ring because we are accepted fully into our new heavenly family.  We are given sandals to make the journey a little more bearable.  And, when we all get to heaven, we will be guests of honor at the feast to top all feasts!  

The fact that God is so forgiving just blows my mind.  It's not that  I find it hard to forgive other people.  That usually comes pretty easy to me.  But I'm really hard on myself.  I let myself down.  I feel like I've let other people down and beat myself up for it even when they don't.  Often, I feel beyond forgiveness.  

But then, if the God of the Universe, Creator of all, Lord of Lords and King of Kings, Holy One can forgive me and literally run to meet me when I decide to turn to him, can't I forgive myself?  If He thinks I'm worth it, then aren't I?

I know I will probably turn away from God, because I have in the past.  But I can hold onto the promise that when I come back honestly and sincerely, sheepishly hoping just to be His servant and not worthy enough to look Him in the eye, He will come running up to me, throw His arms around me, swing me around, and grin.  Because His princess has come home again.  

A Me Day.

Today, I have woken up at 1:12 pm.  I have eaten Spaghetti that I microwaved in my micro-fridge (a college necessity .  I have then proceed to sit at my laptop for 2 hours: reading Jesus blog posts, looking up scripture to use in my Bible Study (henceforth to be called BStud), watching YouTube videos about rare medical conditions (including a real live mermaid girl, a vampire brothers, and a girl with half a brain), and occasionally taking breaks to read Twelve Ordinary Men by John MacArthur.  

Basically, I've done absolutely nothing.  But sometimes that's good for me.  

In the BStud I'm leading on campus, we had our lesson on quiet times last night.  The study focused on Mary and Martha.  You know the sisters: one is running about the house, trying to provide for the men she's let enter into her home.  She's doing a good thing, and she looks over and sees her sister just chillin' with all the men, not even pretending to help her with the preparations.  So, naturally, she gets frustrated.  

It's funny.  As an older sister, I can totally relate to Martha.  I love my sister dearly, but I can think of at least twenty different times when I've been busy doing something around the house, and my sister, who was supposed to be helping me, is still glued to her laptop.  

But Martha and Mary's story this time is a bit different than just one sister is slacking off.  

Mary isn't just sitting doing nothing.  She's at the feet of Jesus.  The Messiah.  The Lord of all the earth.  The Son of God, God-with-us, creator of the universe.  He's in Martha's house.  And Mary recognizes it.  She sees it and instead of being bogged down by stuff, she stops what's she's doing, and spends time with God.  

If I'm being honest, I'm more of a Martha personality.  When I see a need, I want to fill it however I can.  I like to make plans and follow through.  I like to be busy for God's Kingdom, doing stuff for him.  

But a lot of the time, I get so focused on completing the task, I forget who I'm completing the task for.  

Martha has merit though.  She gets stuff done, and trusts that Jesus will get stuff done too (I mean, when her brother died, and she heard Jesus had shown up, she ran to meet him, still hoping that he would save her brother though he'd been dead for four days).  Sometimes it's good to look at God as a doer, not just as someone who is there watching over us.  He intercedes for us.  He keeps us from harm.  God is actively involved in our lives.  

But today, I'm forcing myself to take a Mary sort of day.  To relax and watch a number of Rom-Coms on Netflix, sure.  But also to wait quietly on the Lord, talk with him.  

To sit at his feet and be showered in love.  

Welcome.

Somehow you have stumbled upon my humble blog.  I must admit, this is the fourth attempt I've made at trying to start a blog.  The first three incarnations being now dead and buried and put out of their misery.

Let's just say I'm not the most accomplished blogger in the world.

But for some time now, I've just been feeling like I needed a place to get out my thoughts.  To organize all the jumble in my head that I think might SOMEHOW help someone else.  I don't know.  This will sort of be a conglomeration of all my thoughts.  

There will be funny posts, insightful posts, thoughtful posts, orderly posts, chaotic posts, well written posts, sub-par posts... pretty much whatever I feel like writing.  I'm not going to try and limit myself to sounding smart or put-together or super-human or comedic or anything.  Just... me.

So, I suppose if you like my blog, then you'll like me well enough, too.  [I guess the opposite is also true, that if you like me hopefully you'll end up liking my blog?  Maybe?  I don't know...]  

So here we begin.  At 1:15 am on the beginnings of a Friday.