I am currently in the midst of a crisis of thinking.
What spurred this on?
For the past 25 years of my life, I have operated under the framework that God was displeased with me, my sin, my failures, etc. In my mind, I am simply not enough. I am not a good enough friend, daughter, student, child of God, artist, pianist, barista, girlfriend, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, writer, etc. etc. etc. Pretty much every role I play in my life, I assumed I was never enough. I constantly look at the ways I fail the people closest to me.
This week, I am taking a class entitled "The Wisdom of Henri Nouwen". This morning, we were asked to participate in a Lectio Divina, or a way of cultivating our friendship with Christ through merely spending time with him. Groundbreaking, right? This morning, we focused on the account of the Prodigal Son, which is chronicled in Luke 11 and the book The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming, by Henri Nouwen.
During this prayer, it became clear to me that, even though I have not ever technically squandered my inheritance and came crawling back home, I feel like the son in this story who is coming home. Let me see if I can explain this further...
The son blows his entire inheritance money and lives an extravagent, offensive, indulgent lifestyle. After doing this, he comes crawling home hoping to become a servant in the house of his father. The text says, "When he was a long way off" his father saw him coming. This is to say before the son ever had a glimpse of his father he was already forgiven. What is even more beauitful is after the son offers a heartfelt apology, the father does not even continue in the conversation, but rather, immediately calls for a celebration.
This is so beautiful to me, as I feel like the son. Before I have even headed back home, I am forgiven. It is finished. All that is left for me to do is join the celebration that is occurring for me. I will continue to attempt to be the best version of me, in every role I play, but will accept that a fattened calf is being killed in honor of me.
Now, to say that life will be roses, cherries, honkeydoorey I need to rest in this offensive grace. I say it is offensive because it is that extensive, deep, accepting, loving, forgiving that it is nothing but offensive (in the very best way).
Henceforth, I will celebrate.
