The prodigal love of God
During Lent, we tend to hear a lot about how God is knocking on the door of our hearts. God knocks, and we let him in. It’s a simple enough equation.
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20
That God wants to be with us, that He knows and seeks our individual door, and that He comes knocking in the first place – all of this is very good news, thanks be to God. But a scripture grabbed my attention this week that had me rethinking the whole “He knocks-we answer” order of operations, and it’s this one:
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” John 20:19
As the disciples are hiding in that upper room, not only does Jesus not knock but He makes His way to them through an unopened, locked door. He sought no permissions, rang no bells. He just appeared, and why? Because He knew they needed Him and the peace that was His alone to give, and no door was going to get in the way of that.
God proactively responding to the needs of His people is a theme echoed in the story of the Prodigal Son. The younger son, having wasted his half of the family fortune and finding himself hungry and depleted, decides to head home for some chance at taking on a role as his father’s hired hand. What he finds instead is his father literally running toward him and celebrating his return with a ring and a robe and a party for him and his friends. It’s abundant, over the top, unexpected. The younger son never gets to apologize, never asks for a position, never even lays a hand on a doorknob, but it appears none of that action was necessary anyway.
Instead, the father bursts into the path of his son without his permission and gives him far more than he could have asked for had he been given the chance. In my experience this is a motherly kind of love, this effusive “give-you-what-you need-before-you-know-you-need-it”, poured out kind of response to a much loved child. It’s a sandwich made for the kid running out the door, a pot of sauce on the stove, a covered plate in the fridge. It’s a special treat in the lunchbox, an encouraging text just when it’s needed, an ironed shirt for the presentation, right-sized shoes for the recital, a care package at college, an impromptu gift “just because”. It’s unasked for, unmerited, unsolicited, grace.
Jesus is knocking at the doors of our hearts, and we should open up, to be sure. There’s quite a lot of good that can come from our willing response. We can sit and dine with God and He can direct our steps as we walk it all out together. This is such amazing grace. But I take a great deal of comfort in knowing that it doesn’t all depend on us. In our stubbornness, our blindness, and our weakness, we won’t always open the door to a loving God, even when we should. We won’t always say the right things, we won’t always seek the forgiveness, and we may not even hear the persistent knock on the door as He stands out there on the stoop. Still, our good God is undeterred. There’s no door that’s a match for the abundant, generous love of God. Not even death could hold Him back from loving us far more than we deserve, and He doesn’t want or need anything from us in return. At the end of the day, God just wants us to come on Home.
Raised Catholic rewind:
Raised Catholic episode 114: New Wine - transcript with link to podcast episode
What I’m watching/listening to/recommending this week:
Video: Stephen Colbert recites (part) “The Hound of Heaven”
Podcast: The Telepathy Tapes
Song: We’re All Going Home, by The Wanderer
Prayer:
God, thank you that you pursue us in love. Help us to open our ears, eyes, minds, and hearts to receive you and your kind leading this week. Give us Illumination for our paths, for us and our dear ones we pray in the name of Jesus and wrapped in the mantle of our Mother Mary, amen.