Church has been my life in many respects. Always there, never traipsing off on a tangent, faithfully present and involved. When in those situations where people told their Jonah stories of running from God, I had little to say but “Didn’t run away,” “I stayed home.” When the “stay home” brother of the prodigal story fame occasionally made an appearance; through some preacher’s sermon, or book I was reading; I knew how the guy felt. He stayed home and so did I. Didn’t waste my father’s wealth! Worked hard! Completely dependable!
The “stayed home” story feels lacking at those moments of personal testimony, but should I really feel guilty about doing the right thing? Ridiculous, isn’t. Even now these meanderings seem an exercise of the foolish. But, somewhere along the way I began to peel away the self-confidence of staying home, the temptation to pride of remaining inside on rainy days instead of trudging through the mud. I began to see running in place can be as detrimental as running the wrong way, and actually is it not just another way of running the wrong way?
Life at home, or painfully sorting through the mess called “my life,” most appropriately operates under the banner of Journey. Not there yet! Have much to learn! Pray for me! Viewed as a journey the life of faith (seeking faith, or greater faith) is actually quite liberating. It releases me to ask and seek, to celebrate when finding, and lean dependently when at a loss.
There is no pride left in not running away, I’ve come to discover we all have our Jonah moments; some of us are just a little better at concealing them.
