I used to be a missionary.  I lived on foreign soil, spoke a foreign land, and even became infected by a foreign parasite.  If I happen to mention my previous occupation, people oftentimes gulp, take a step backwards and look at me as if my face will begin glowing like Moses’.  They nervously fumble, looking for dark clouds signaling the outpouring of lightening bolts.  Others stare at me in awe.  Ultra-Christian.  That’s what they think.  They mistakenly believe I had a direct access to God that no other is afforded.

They are wrong.  I love God as much today while my days are spent trying to potty train my son to no avail as I did when I pored myself into youth.  I pray as much as before.  I still read the Bible.  And God still loves me.  Just as much.  Just the way I am.  Even on my native soil.

All too often we get hung up on someone’s position, especially if it pertains to something within the church.  In no way am I trying to disregard the hard work of pastors, elders or missionaries.  Peter Drucker, the late leadership guru, said that being a pastor is one of the four hardest jobs in America.  I personally know some of the hardships of serving overseas.  I hold elders in the utmost respect, who work at their full-time jobs and then diligently help meet the needs within their churches and communities.  They aren’t easy tasks, yet neither is living out Colossians 3:17 while collecting trash, fighting corruption or scrubbing toilets. 

This same leveling of the playing field is seen in the beginning of the letter to the Philippians. 

I am writing to all of God’s holy people in Philippi who belong to Christ Jesus, including the elders and deacons.” Philippians 1:1

All of God’s holy people.  If “holy people” is too overwhelming for you, simply think of it according to The Message’s interpretation: “all the followers of Jesus.” This isn’t intended solely for the church leadership or the ultra-Christian (whatever that faulty notion might mean).  Matthew Henry says it best in his commentary on the whole Bible.  “It is directed to all the saints, one as well as another, even the meanest, the poorest, and those of the least gifts. Christ makes no difference; the rich and the poor meet together in him.” 

Don’t dismiss a single word in the book of Philippians by rationalizing that it was written solely for those higher up in church leadership.  That simply is not true.  I can’t wait to meet here with the rich, poor, mean, ugly, married, single, divorced, mother, janitor, lawyer and everything in between as together we study this incredible book.

I have the privilege—if you want to call it that—of being married to a “techy.” Yes, my husband loves his tech toys. After months of pestering me about how I needed my own iPhone, he handed me his “less-new” phone when he upgraded to a newer model. I fought it tooth and nail, but I can say today that I love my iPhone. Applications, or “apps” as they are called, that I thought I would never have use for, are now apart of my everyday life. I wonder now what I would ever do without my beloved phone.

The same holds true for my Bible. Even though one of the apps on my iPhone is the Bible, nothing beats my navy, leather bound, gold-engraved, marked up, Bible that I have had for years. And let me tell you the “apps” in this book are just as amazing. One of my favorite books in the Bible is Philippians. The four short chapters are packed with nuggets of truth for everyday living. I hope you will join us the rest of this year as we journey through Philippians and unpack some amazing truths that will apply to our everyday lives.

Philippians is one of many books in the New Testament written by the Apostle Paul. Paul and his companions established the church in Philippi on his second missionary journey, which is recorded in Acts 16. This letter to the church in Philippi is believed to have been written in 61 A.D. At this point in Paul’s life he is imprisoned in Rome for spreading the gospel message to the Gentiles.

Let me stop right here. He is in prison. Please keep this in mind as you read through the book of Philippians. I’m often in awe when I read Paul’s words about joy, unity, Christian living, and humility, and the circumstances in which he is writing—imprisonment.

Paul begins his letter like this: “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:3-6

There are times in my life when I feel shackled to my circumstances. I feel in bondage to the past, but here is a man who is physically in prison and writing a letter of thanksgiving to his friends in Philippi. Not only that, he tells them he is praying for them with joy. Say what?

I can honestly say that thanksgiving and joy are the furthest things from my mind when I face difficult times. But what if they weren’t? What if I focused less on me and more on God and others? What would that even look like? What if I held onto the confidence that Paul talks about and truly believed that He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion?

How’s that for a free app?

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

Fireworks will soon fill the skies.  They will mark freedom, reminding us of what once was and allowing us to savor what now is.

Over the next several months, we’ll be studying the book of Philippians.  Today I viewed it for the first time as a book of freedom.  It, along with the entire Scriptures, provides the hope, source and keys to the freedom of living a meaningless life devoted to self.  During the remainder of the year, we’ll get to learn how to be free from:

• Living loveless lives (Phil. 1:9)
• Cowardice and fearfulness (Phil. 1:14)
• Discontentment (Phil. 2:2)
• A lack of joy (Phil. 3)
• Pride (Phil. 2:6,7)
• Complaining and arguing (Phil. 2:14)
• Anxiety (Phil. 4:6)

A friend was challenged to read the entire book of Philippians four times daily for a month.  She started skeptically, but soon found herself waiting for the next ay she’d ingest the four chapters of God’s word.  In thirty days, her life changed.  She’d open her mouth to grumble, then recall Phil. 2:14 and change the subject.  She stopped meditating on the things that worried or troubled her and began focusing on things that are true, noble, lovely and praiseworthy.  By the end of the month, she was still unemployed and there were still real-world issues that infiltrated her life, yet her countenance demonstrated one profound change: freedom. 

Let it ring in our lives, too.

“So many others have tried their hand at putting together a story of the wonderful harvest of Scripture and history that took place among us, using reports handed down by the original eyewitnesses who served this Word with their very lives. Since I have investigated all the reports in close detail, starting from the story’s beginning, I decided to write it all out for you, most honorable Theophilus, so you can know beyond the shadow of a doubt the reliability of what you were taught …” ~ Luke, follower of Jesus and teller of his story (Luke 1:1-4, The Message)

For six months now we’ve read the story of one man whose set out to research, evaluate, and wrestle with all the evidence about the man named Jesus. Overwhelmed by both this evidence and his personal experiences, Luke came to believe the man from Nazareth was so much more than just a man–Jesus was and is the Son of God. He then recorded his conclusion in a letter to “Theophilus” and to us, to make sure the truth of what he discovered continued to find voice.

But what about you? Have you carefully investigated what it is that you believe? Have you wrestled with the truth, examined all the facts, considered the implications for yourself and others? And have you made a determination on the man named Jesus? Is He simply a good man to you, or is He the Son of God?

Your answer to the above determines what you do next. If you’ve examined the evidence and found it lacking, there is nothing left to do but discard it and take your quest for truth elsewhere.

If, however, you’ve scoured Luke’s story, searched the stories of others, examined the evidence in your own life and have discovered Jesus of Nazareth to be everything we’ve ever hoped for and everything God ever promised for the redemption of humanity, then it’s your turn. Your turn to write your own story. Your turn to make your life into a letter on which the redemption of God is written and read by those you meet.

It’s your turn.

Have you ever received news that seemed too good to be true? I was recently watching the local news when a story aired about a Denver couple, who, after calling their mortgage lender, were congratulated and told that their mortgage had been paid in full, and their account was now closed. Though they knew they were close to paying off this debt, they had no idea they were that close. They decided to seek the help of an investigative journalist at one of our local stations. After a week of investigative phone calls to the lender, the account mysteriously reopened, and sure enough the couple had about $20,000 left to pay on their mortgage.

Ugggh. Can you imagine? Talk about hopes rising and falling. It reminds a little of the story we see unfold in Luke 24. Devastated by the death of Jesus, three women approached the tomb on the third day, only to find it empty. I can only imagine what they must have thought and felt in that moment. I’m sure they were taken back to the last days they had spent with Christ when He had clearly told His followers that He would raise from the dead on the third day. But in the tragic moment of His death many thought it was just too good to be true, and soon dismissed the idea all together.

“When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.” Luke 24:9, 11

Friends, the hope that is available to us who believe in Christ is unimaginable at times. We get caught up in our earthly trials and circumstances and the very thought of eternity in Heaven with our Lord seems like nonsense. Do you suppose if we tried with all our might to focus heavenward, rather than on the earthly, that hope might be more realistic? Not just too good to be true, but true!?!

“But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13b-14

A man stood trial, his life hanging in the balances.  The judge couldn’t find evidence supporting the claims waged against him and wanted to dismiss the case, but he cracked under political pressure.  An innocent man died.

2,000 years after his death, Jesus still stands trial.  If you cared, you wouldn’t allow me to suffer, I protest, asking the Lord of the Universe to defend his stance on my current circumstances.  In other courtrooms, the claims aired are “if you really loved me, you would _______  (give me a better job, make me more beautiful, or cure me of cancer).  If you really are in control of the world, then why did you let innocent children die in a natural disaster?”

Will we, like Pilate, “find no basis for a charge against this man” (Luke 23:4), yet make a final ruling to dismiss him from our lives?  Our will we allow the doubts and questions to draw us into an honest conversation with God and discover that we just might find the very thing we’ve been looking for?

It doesn’t feel like the middle of June.  There’s a slight drizzle outside my Colorado home and I’m nestled inside with a hot cup of chai.  I even had to flip my thermostat from a.c. to heat today.  I’m ready to snuggle in with a good book and hibernate.  I love these kind of days, but I just don’t expect them this time of year.

The same is true of the content of Luke 23.  The Easter season allows me to slow down and reflect on Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice for me.  I’m overcome with emotion in March and April at the thought of a perfect, sinless man dying to cleanse me of my filth.  And yet the overwhelming awe of Christ’s crucifixion tends to melt away with the last batch of snow.  By the hot, sunny months, I’m back to barging into the gates of heaven with my prayer requests before stopping to humbly and gratefully say thanks.

This sudden, temporary change of seasons beckons me to recall the most amazing gift offered to mankind.

When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left.  Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  Luke 23:33,34

Jesus, thank you so very much for loving me enough to forfeit the wonders of heaven to walk on this earth, knowing we would reject and crucify you.  I’m amazed that even in your most agonizing moment you forgave.  Teach me to do the same and please help me daily remember the pain you suffered on my behalf.  Amen.

“And Jesus sent Peter and John saying, ‘Go and prepare the Passover for us, so that we may eat it.’” (Luke 22:8)

Twelve disciples made up the posse that surrounded Jesus. Ten of those twelve got to party with Him on the Passover, but two were sent away. Singled out for kitchen duty.

I doubt Peter and John high-fived at their banishment to the kitchen. It’s like me asking one of my boys to empty the dishwasher or start a load of whites. “Why do I have to do it? Why not him?” It was a week of celebration and remembrance. Rumor had it Jesus would make himself king soon. I doubt Peter and John wanted to be away from His side for even a minute. But their Savior spoke. A chore needed to be done, and Peter and John complied. My guess, reluctantly.

Years later, after the horror of Jesus’ death, the shock at His resurrection, and the wonder of His ascension, only Peter and John would say these words:

“For you know that it was no with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.” ~ 1 Peter 1:18-19

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!” ~ Revelation 5:12

Over the past year I’ve endured experiences that I would have rather avoided. Some were simply irritating chores, exercises I could’ve lived without. Others were painful intersections in my life, ones I would’ve done anything to avoid. Honestly, at times it seems God is singling me out, giving me an unfair allotment of circumstances. I’m relegated to kitchen duty while others get to party with the Master. I want to cry and whine and point my finger: “Unfair! Why not her?”

Perhaps, however, there is more going on here than simply kitchen duty. Maybe hidden within some of my distasteful experiences lays a message of extraordinary measure. The eternal often hides in the midst of the mundane.

God is not random or wasteful. Look for his activity in even the most unlikely places. There may be a truth of great significance lurking in the middle of the kitchen.

This last week marked the end of another school year for my children. Time seems to be whizzing by at warp speed. To savor some of these moments with my girls, I spent quite a few hours last week helping in their classrooms and attending programs and class parties. I was amazed at the energy and excitement running through those students. I’m sure you can imagine. But I couldn’t help but notice how things seemed a little more serious for a few of the teachers—one in particular.

As the week came to a close, many rumors were confirmed about the future of this teacher. It was announced that her contract would not be renewed for next year. This announcement to the school community was met with many different emotions; for some tears, for others relief, for some anger, but for many, surprise.

I quietly observed, not saying much, and honestly wanting to stay out of all the drama. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly had my opinions on the situation, but my thoughts were challenged by the gentle conviction of the Holy Spirit, and this particular scripture in Luke.

“All men will hate you because of Me.” Luke 21:17

Hate is a strong word, but it’s not a mistake that it has appeared in this particular passage of Luke. The disciples asked Jesus about the end of the age, and how they would know the signs of the times. Jesus responded by giving them several illustrations of what the end times would look like for those who believe in Him. Think about His response. All men will hate those who believe in Jesus.

The scenario that played out at our small school this week reminded me a little of this chapter in Luke. I watched as parents and staff took sides. I watched as strong emotions turned into flared tempers and parents started to lash out at one another. I saw finger pointing and blame casting. I saw pockets of people whispering and speculating about the fate of this teacher. I watched this teacher quietly retreat into her classroom as her spark for teaching slowly burned out.

“But not a hair of your head will perish. By standing firm you will gain life.” Luke 21: 18-19

Ahh, the sweet promise of our Lord. God has called us to stand firm in Him, and in return we won’t perish, but be rewarded with eternal life. What I failed to do this week was stand firm. It’s not important what side I took in this particular situation, what matters is that I didn’t stand for anything. I was just a bystander, watching events unfold.

A day is drawing near where our faith will be challenged in unimaginable ways. What happened at this school last week will pale in comparison to what is in store for us in the future. So I ask you, are you prepared for your faith to be tested? Are you living out your faith and standing for truth, or are you a bystander watching on the sidelines?

Once upon a time, there was a group of people called the Swoonots.  They worked their rented vineyard day in and day out and were relatively happy, especially after stomping their crop into a magical beverage.  But the Swoonots suffered from a rare disease.  One by one, they passed away.

King Swafta owned the vineyard.  One day, he decided to send a servant to the Swoonots.  The king wanted his share of the crops, but more importantly, he had the cure to the Swoonots’ lethal disease.  But the last thing the Swoonots wanted to hear was how to live in order to prevent death, and they especially didn’t want to share what was rightfully the king’s.

“Let’s beat the servant,” they said.  And they did.

King Swafta sent a second and a third servant, who both met the same fate.

“What shall I do"?” King Swafta asked.  “I will send my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.”

But when the Swoonots saw the prince, they said, “This is the heir.  Let’s kill him and the inheritance will be ours.”  So they threw him out of the vineyard and. . .

hung him on a cross.

I, too, like the Swoonots of Luke 20:9-16, am living on rented land.  Everything I have and everything I’m capable of has been given to me by King Swafta.  God.  Am I willing to share the crops of my life with God, or will I horde them, believing I am the one who makes the fruits in my life grow?  I also suffer from a deadly disease: sin.  If left untreated, it will separate me from God, forever, and cause my death.

Will I allow the Prince into my vineyard and trust him with my life, or will I, too, throw him out?

“Zacchaeus” is a one word time machine transporting me back to felt boards, animal crackers and Sunday school songs. Tell me you’re not singing the wee-little-man song. It’ll be stuck in my head the rest of the day. Zacchaeus. The mini-tax collector who collected more enemies than coins. And yet with a short adventure up a tree, the passing of a Savior and an invitation to dinner, the despised became the chosen. And a more profound tree transformation happened than even a fall’s changing leaves.

Zacchaeus was not in the “in” crowd. The religious believed he was heaped in sin. Even the irreligious hated him for who he represented: the oppressive Roman government. Their hate was well founded. After all, Zacchaeus built a career on business practices like swindling and coercion.

But in an instant, he became a new man altogether. How could a lying cheat heaped in sin change so fast? And so completely? By verse 8 Zacchaeus pronounces, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”

I have a single note in my Bible next to Luke 19:1-10, written in blue ink and the familiar curve of my handwriting:

“Instant change because of the love of Jesus.”

A lying cheat became a loving philanthropist for one reason: the love of the Christ.

I may not be a crooked tax collector, but I’m heaped in sin just the same. Prison cells like unforgiveness and stubborn pride, spiritual practices like unbelief and worry. The key to my transformation is the love of Jesus, a Savior who said he wanted to be with me. At my house. Today.

And as for other tree-climbing Zacchaeus’ in my life, why would I think anything but the love of Jesus would change them?

A few weeks ago I witnessed a conversation between my two daughters—Madeline (9) and Isabelle (7). It went something like this:

Isabelle: (sigh) “I just want to go to heaven right now and see Jesus.”

Madeline: (with a scolding tone) “Izzy, it’s too soon. There is so much work left on earth before we can go to heaven.”

Isabelle: (puzzled) “Huh? What? No one ever told me anything about work.”

Isabelle: (heavy sigh, frown on face, and arms folded) “Whatever Maddie, I still want to see Jesus now.”

Okay, I will admit it’s a little funny. I was trying to hold in my giggles as I broke up this argument. But it got me thinking about my children’s faith. Isabelle showed no fear as she declared her desire to go to heaven. I don’t think I could utter such words in fear that it might come true. I’m not ready quite yet. Of course in a moment of sickness, pain or weakness, I might wish the end was near, but on a daily basis, when all is well, I’m not thinking so much about seeing Jesus.

I became more convicted as I thought about Madeline’s comment. Though she didn’t agree with her sister, she realized that there are many who still need to come into a relationship with our Savior. Do I feel that kind of urgency when it comes to sharing my faith? Do I feel the magnitude of the work like Madeline?

It reminds me of the disciples in Luke 18, when they critically question Jesus about the children coming to Him. I wonder if the disciples had young children? Did their children ask tough spiritual questions? Did their children make bold spiritual statements causing their parents to fluster?

I don’t know for sure, but one thing I do know is the importance Jesus places on this particular lesson.

“But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’” Luke 18:16-17

Could it be that it’s easier for children to receive the blessings of Jesus because they’re not trying to be worthy? Or pretending they don’t need it? Or are they just humble beings freely accepting God’s grace?

These are tough questions for me to ponder as an adult. But what’s amazing to me is that I might never have thought about these questions had it not been for the words that came out of the mouths of my babes.

The “gimme’s” run rampant in my family.  “Can I have an American Girl?”  “I just have to have a supersonic, F453 jet pack.”  It isn’t just my kids that are infected with this seemingly incurable disease.  My husband and I both fall victim to it all the time.  In fact, I think the disciples even had a slight case of it.

One day, Jesus was teaching his disciples about forgiveness.  Their response?  "Increase our faith!" (Luke 17:5). 

Isn’t that something?  These were the guys who walked with Jesus, got to spend day after day with him.  Surely they had faith.  Probably just like my daughter has countless Barbies in her room but still isn’t satisfied.  They, too, wanted more of something they already had: faith. 

I can understand their request (and often imitate it myself), yet am stumped at their timing.  After all, Jesus was teaching about forgiveness, not faith.  Their petition seems so out of context.  I’m quick to ask for more faith when the swell of life’s worries and trials are about to overtake me, but during the day-to-day mundane?  Well, that’s quite a different story.

Oswald Chambers wrote My Utmost for His Highest, a beautiful collection of devotionals.  On June 5th he says, “Neither will I in any wise forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5).  Sometimes it is not difficulty that makes me think God will forsake me, but drudgery. There is no Hill Difficulty to climb, no vision given, nothing wonderful or beautiful, just the commonplace day in and day out—can I hear God’s say-so (God reminding me that he will never leave me nor forsake me) in these things?”

It is harder for me to live by faith during the run-of-the mill than the strenuous.  I cling desperately to God when times are rough, yet am quick to go my own way during the calm.  I struggle to remember that God created me for a purpose, especially when my days are filled by changing diapers, watching Barney and waiting in the carpool line.  It is only when I  ask for more faith that I find a new enjoyment in my everyday routines.

Maybe the disciples request wasn’t so out of context. 

Lord, increase our faith.

“When the Pharisees, a money-obsessed bunch, heard him say these things, they rolled their eyes, dismissing him as hopelessly out of touch. So Jesus spoke to them: ‘You are masters at making yourselves look good in front of others, but God knows what’s behind the appearance.’” ~ Luke 16:14-15

Nobody likes a preacher who talks about money. It’s too close to home, too personal. And, frankly, it’s nobody’s business, certainly not a preacher’s. Jesus didn’t care that his words ruffled their fine feathers. He talked about money anyway, saying things like …

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.”

And …

“No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.”

What does he know? the Pharisees scoffed with a roll of their self-righteous eyes. He’s out of touch, outdated, clearly uneducated on what life requires. God wants me to be happy.

It’s easy for me to look at Pharisees from a removed point of view. I’m not like them. I don’t mock the Christ the way they did. I don’t walk with religious airs. I don’t judge lesser Christians like they did. I’m different. I give a tithe. I donate garbage bags full of clothes and toys. I’m not a Pharisee at all. Look how generous I am.

But then I think about the hold money has on my life. The way I’m always worry about bills and my stuff. My compulsiveness to stockpile and hoard, afraid it will never be enough. The ease with which I buy multiple cups of coffee, and yet have difficulty releasing cash for various needs outside my home. My desire to buy a new car, even though the one I have works just fine. I think about the sleep I lose when my own finances seem insecure, and yet how easily I sleep when a friend is struggling financially. And the way I give only within the bounds of my comfort, but never to the point it’s a true sacrifice.

I’m a Pharisee trying to serve two masters. And one of those masters–the greater of the two–is saying, “You’re a master at keeping up a good appearance, but God knows how much you love money, how much you’re depending on it. He sees, and He wants to set you free.”

Jesus was/is far more in touch than anyone gave him credit for. Like my religious predecessors, I’m a person who gives away just enough to make myself look “Christian,” but who secretly finds her safety in the house and car and pile of paper security in the bank.

I need a different master, a less fickle one. And I need to become a better master at stocking up all my future security in an eternal place.

As I sat on the bed wrapped in the white motel towel, my wet hair dripping down my back, the tears started to fall.  Had my life really come to this?  Alone? Hungry?  Tired? Sleeping in an old motel room with a view of the interstate? What had I done?

The walls felt as though they were closing in.  I climbed under the covers to get warm, but nothing would warm the chill in my body.  I felt my eyes grow heavy.

I must have slept for several hours because when I woke the hunger was unbearable.  I reached for my purse only to find a dollar and some change.  But there was a granola bar that I had managed to slip in my purse unnoticed at the neighboring convenience store.  I ate that and drank some water from the tap.   I can’t say a steak dinner with all the fixings would have cured the pain of emptiness inside me.

I slowly pulled on the grey sweatpants and baggy black sweatshirt.  They had certainly seen better days.  I glanced in the bathroom mirror and splashed some cold water on my face.  How hideous, I thought.  To think I used to not leave the house without make-up.  Now make-up seemed like a luxury, but certainly not the cure for the broken face staring back at me.

I don’t know what caused me to do it, but I suddenly felt drawn to the small night table by the bed.  I opened the drawer and there it was—a Bible.  I chuckled at the thought of the last time I’d picked up one of those books.  It must have been over a year.

A year ago I was happily married, working the job of my dreams, and you couldn’t have kept me away from church.  I sang in the choir, organized church events, and sat in the front row every Sunday, pouring over the pastor’s sermons.  The tears started to fall again.  This time sobs followed—heavy sobs.

I curled up on the bed again and started reading through one of the Gospels.  It talked about repentance and how the lost are found.  It spoke of heaven rejoicing at one sinner’s repentance.  Was this me the scriptures were describing?

Pulling the covers off, I slowly climbed out of bed.  I knelt down, folded my hands and dropped my head to the floor.  I felt shame—so much shame.  I cried out to God, “I’m sorry Lord.  I’m sorry for all the horrible things I’ve done and the people that I’ve hurt.  I’m sorry I was so selfish and sought the pleasures of this sinful world rather than seeking you.  Show me what to do, Lord.  Show me.”

A loud truck horn broke through my thoughts.  I went and peered through the window and found one massive traffic jam.  And then I saw it, right in front of the motel was a semi-truck with the words, “Come Home” plastered in red ink on the dirty white background.  I couldn’t tell you what company was advertising, but I knew those words were for me.  Was this the answer the Lord was giving me?  Would God really take me back?

“I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your (daughter); So (she) got up and went to (her) father. ”But while (she) was still a long way off, (her) father saw (her) and was filled with compassion for (her); he ran to his (daughter), threw his arms around (her) and kissed (her).” Luke 15: 18-20

When God ran.