After my mother took a bad fall, I drove up to see her. On
the way home, the Lord began speaking to me. I don’t need a GPS to get me home,
I don’t really need the landmarks. It’s the place where I grew up from the time
I was eight years old. I get on I 270 N. to I 71 N. I get off at Rt. 13 and
drive through Mansfield, hit Rt. 250, drive through a few towns until I finally
come to Norwalk. I take League St. to Cline St. then make a left onto Spring
St. I finally arrive at 52 Spring St. where I grew up.
When I got married, I made the trip once a week on my day
off. I love my parents and when they are expecting me, the door is left
unlocked, we have made plans for the day, one of them always greet me at the
door even though it’s unlocked, and I can just walk in. When I get there, I can
go to the fridge and get something to drink or eat if I want. It’s home. When
the boys came along the trips became less. Life got busy, kids got sick, money
was tighter and on the list went.
I never forgot the way home and there was never a time I was
unwelcome, but neither did I get an invitation, direction in the mail, or a
call saying we want you to come home. Why? Because I knew the way and I knew I
was welcome. It was all on me and the circumstances that surrounded my reasons
for not getting home as often. I had to get in the car and go!
My heart is heavy most days over young people who grew up in
the church and no longer serve the Lord. I ache over friends I spent time with
as a young mother who were serving God right along with me, but no longer come
to church. I have often prayed and asked the Lord what will it take to get
these people I love to come back to you?
It was during this particular drive home when the Lord
spoke. They know the way home. They don’t need a Bible study, they know the
Word. They don’t need an invitation, they know they are welcome. They don’t need direction, they know the way
all too well. They left for all different reasons. Maybe they had a fight with
a brother or sister, maybe they were hurt by a happening, some just got side
tracked, busy, disinterested, and the list goes on.
The Lord showed me a lot of similarities between going back
home to family and coming back home to the family of God. A card in the mail
will remind that child who is no longer serving the Lord that they are thought
of. A phone call inviting them to a special service would be like making plans
for a full family gathering and getting the information to all the siblings for
a holiday dinner. A visit would be a nice gesture to reinforce the backslider
that she is loved.
What really needs to happen is the child must come to a
place where she wants to come home! She knows the way, she’s been there many
times, many years. She has to put the past events, hurts, anger, complacency,
or whatever it is that is keeping her away aside and decide I want to go home
and be with my family. I want to make things right with my father and be ready
to meet him. When she walks through the door, the brothers and sisters must be
ready to greet her, love her, and make sure there are no grudges held, no anger
harbored, and we must be ready to help her get connected again because, after
all, we are family and we must take care of one another.
She knows the way home!
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