On the run

 

Our heads were bowed in prayer. Tony led us to intercede for the nations, for our neighbours and for the needs of the dispossessed and brutalised.

The sounds of a crying child filtered through from the nursery area. Before the door was opened by the carer, the Gramma was on her feet and heading towards her grandchild.

The service continued into the sermon. As Tony opened up the final bits of Jeremiah to us all, challenging us to forgive as the Father forgives, new cries came through from the nursery. Once more, before the door was opened to reveal whose child was in distress, the mum was on her feet and hurrying forward, arms outstretched to receive her daughter.

A parable before our eyes. The minister used words, and God was in those words. God was also in the actions of the mother and gramma.

Both the gramma and the mum recognised the cries of the ones they love; both were moving towards the distressed child before they even saw them. They knew their kiddie’s voice. They were eager to comfort and console.

God, our Father, knows our voices, all eight billion of us. He hears our most feeble, and our most desperate, cries, and is running towards us as soon as he hears us.

Thank you, Lord, for your love, and the creative ways you communicate your love to us every day, in so many ways. Open our eyes to see and our ears to hear and our hearts to receive and our wills to obey. Amen.