When a Child Wanders Off

(Before today it had been long ago that I posted anything here.  In fact, it took some doing to even get here again because I'd forgotten my blog name and address.)  I have had the desire to write down some thoughts that have developed over many years to help me remember them and to give me the ability to revisit if I desire to.

When I was a teenager, within a very short span, three men in the congregation of which we were a part, committed adultery and left their wives.  They were then "disfellowshipped."  It all made quite an impact on me because all three men had had no small significance in my life.  I was confused, hurt, angry, and perhaps, above all, shocked.

My own life took a dark turn just a short time later.  According to my own self, I had fallen and fallen long and deep into murky, mucky filth.  I shocked everyone who knew me.  I grieved everyone who loved me.  Some were angry and hurt and confused.  Some were up at arms because the "procedure" for such things didn't unfold.  It wasn't true, but it appeared that way, and they were unhappy.

Years after those events, a family member shocked me too with an "unspeakable" sin.  That time I wasn't confused or even hurt.  Just angry.  And shocked.  Against the wishes of most of the family, I set out to follow "procedure" as I had perceived it done.  I really rocked the family boat.

At this point, it'll be no surprise that several years after that, in Twilight Zone style, it happened again.  A very good family friend for whom we had "a chair" informed us all that he didn't believe that God is good and true anymore, and thus he would no longer be loyal to Him.  I was shocked.  And sad.  Intensely and abidingly sad.  Again, the "procedure" I'd always seen began and he was eventually "marked" and "withdrawn from."

Then Rod Serling came to my house, and I was stuck in the never ending cycle.  It was my turn to be the Prodigal's parent.  Have you known that?  (If so, you can skip this paragraph.)  I was sad.  I wasn't shocked.  I was his mother, and I knew.  I was angry.  Oh very, very angry.  Then I was sad again because his turn in the pit took a sort of permanent downward twist.  I had prayed that God would do whatever necessary to rescue him from the lion's mouth, and when He answered I was in awe.  Never had I (could I) construct such a rescue attempt.  This journey has continued, and the end has not seemed here.  But I have hoped that it will come because I have become the Prodigal's parent.  The ominous "procedure" has not occurred, but its initiation has been entertained, and I have been scared.  And lonely.  And confused.

Well, if I ever did wish for something, it has been that Rod Serling would blow up and die and take his nasty Twilight Zone into perdition with him.  He has proven a stubborn house guest. Another child wandered off.  Into the pit he fell.  And deep.  He has not liked the pit and has attempted to scale up and out.  Yet, I have been uncertain that he's as ready for the Light of day as I had hoped.  Again, the story has not ended, but I am pulling for (read: praying for) the happy sort.  I have doubly become the Prodigal's parent.

These events, stretched over decades, have introduced so many questions about what to do, what to say, what to feel, and on and on.  It has been my deep and earnest desire to know the mind of God in these (and all other) matters.  The more these kinds of tragic events have piled up in sickening mounds of stench laden yuck, the more I love God and long to have rest with Him, just simply worshiping Him.  The more I have seen and suffered from sin, the more I hate sin - in me, in you, in everyone.

These things have combined to drive me to search the Bible for the truth about the fallen and those who know and love them.  In the truth of God have been riven the stays of hope, unchanging and attainable.  It has just been a matter of digging, and digging, and digging, and digging...

To be continued...