He Comes Running?

             So he got up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’  But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate. (Luke 15:20-24)

You might also find it useful to read Psalm 139.

We know the story. So, I’ll move on to another. A guy on a Facebook video said something about seeing if he could call her in. He shouts, “Pretty Lady” several times, and adds “come on” a couple of times. An owl (Barred, I think) flies into the frame and lands above him on a branch. Generally, when I get home, my dog comes to greet me, and it’s clear that she’s happy to see me. Today, she was outside when I got home, and I walked into the backyard with bags in my hands. I don’t know why, but she just stood there until I said something, then she hurried up to say hello.

The thought that came to mind with all of this is that God actually “comes running,” not because we commanded, but because He wants to. Yes, it’s an old idea. Some people like to express it as “God’s crazy about you” but that’s always seemed disrespectful. Scripture makes it clear that He loves us. I get that. But to be bluntly honest, I grew up in a household where love was not expressed in such flamboyant terms.

There were a couple of times when I got lost, when I didn’t come when called (I was in someone’s house and didn’t hear), or when I called for help on a trip when my father came looking for me, but it seemed as if he was doing his job. He was really good at that sort of thing. But that’s not the same as is described in Luke, and not the same as the owl or my dog. And I can’t imagine anyone that I would run to throw my arms around in greeting. That’s probably why I can’t imagine God running to me to throw His arms around me. That would be too undignified.

That leads me to something John Ortberg talked about on his Become New blog this morning. We tend to believe that God is unmovable and that it somehow diminishes or demeans Him if we believe Him capable of changing His mind or even considering our perspective. Apparently, that came from Aristotle.  I’ve long held that on the pathway that He has set up through time, that while we can’t change the direction of the road itself, there is room for Him, and us, to maneuver. There’s also the fact that two roads can lead to the same place. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father but by Him, but that doesn’t mean that, within that truth, there’s not room for negotiation.

In other words, while God is immovable in His character and His plans, according to John Ortberg, He is the most movable where He is not necessarily immovable. There’s room for both.