I was raised in the Ozark Mountains of southern
One such evening, I stayed to watch the sun go down over the river. Before I realized, it had grown so dark, that I couldn’t even see the outline of the hills against the sky. My horse was tied to a tree a safe distance off. I went the way I thought he was – no horse. I went another direction – still no horse. No problem, you can always hear a horse if you just stay quiet long enough. He’ll move, stomp his foot, breathe heavy – something. I waited – and waited – not a sound. (Ever feel like there’s a conspiracy, sometimes, that our horses enact against us?) I struggled around in the woods for a while longer, getting tangled in vines, falling over rocks, until I came to the realization – I no longer knew where I was. Without being able to see the skyline, I had no idea which direction was north or south, which direction I had fumbled around to and most importantly, which direction was home.
As I stood there wondering how to get out of this mess I had gotten myself into, I became aware of that wonderful, ever so faithful, sound of the river. I knew the river would take me home, so I made my way down the hillside toward it. I hoped I could walk along the river’s edge, but the thick brush, dense rocks and saw briers were nigh impenetrable. I had no choice but to get into the river and wade it home. It was only a couple of miles to the house, and I knew there were no holes of water deeper than chest deep, so I started home, praying that God would keep me safe from the cotton mouth snakes. It was hard walking and the water was cold. By the time I got home, I was exhausted, chilled to the bone and looked an absolute fright, but happy as a pig in a mud hole to be home!
Mom and Dad embraced me, got me dried off and into warm clothes, questioned me and even commended me for using my head. Then Dad handed me a flashlight and said, “Now go get your horse”. You mean walk back? Aren’t you going to take me on the tractor or something? He explained that it was my irresponsibility that had gotten me into this jam in the first place, and I had to learn the consequences of my actions. It was a l-o-n-g walk back, a grateful ride home, and I don’t remember a warm bed ever being more welcome! I never did it again.
Our Heavenly Father is like this. When we’ve “played out in the woods” too long, gotten ourselves into a desperate situation and then turned for “home” willing to do whatever it takes to get there – the Father is always waiting to embrace us, comfort us, take care of our immediate needs, and then “fix” us. And always in the “fixing” of us, He will demand of us to take responsibility for our actions. Sometimes, He will even require us to go back to where we’ve come from and make things right. Oh, and one other thing. The way “home” is God’s way. Often, the only way back is the last way we would choose! God’s way is like a river that flows back to Him. Playing along the riverbank will not get you there and will only get you beat up. There’s only one way – take the plunge – get into the river and let Jesus lead you. Salvation isn’t always easy – but it’s great to be home!