Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Our Father Came

In February, 2010 I became engrossed in the story of a father's love. The Haiti earthquake had just hit and news bombarded us from every side. But in the midst of the chaos, one story made it's way to the forefront of my mind.

The story of a father, who went to Haiti, to rescue his son. A son that they had been planning for, preparing for, and dreaming of for years. He saw his son in trouble, and he went to bring him home.

Ernest and Ronel Parker then slept 9 days on a hard Embassy floor - waiting to come home to their family. With disaster and death all around them - the son clung to his father, his hero father, asking "we go now?"

On his mother Debra's blog, she wrote of the day Ernest left for Haiti:
"He did not have an ounce of fear in his body. He was more determined than I may have ever seen him before. The look in his eye was intense and his heart was beating just a bit faster. He was going to fight for his son. He did not care where he would sleep. He did not care what he would eat. He was not scared of what danger there could be. Nothing would stop him. A father's love was the drive behind the strength."


A Father's Love...... this time of year, as we celebrate the season - we see twinkling lights, wrapped gifts, and we picture the sweet, sweet picture of an infant in a manger.

And while that story should be celebrated, I think just as much, we need to focus on the impact of that sweet child. That it was not the birth of the babe that impacts us, but the arms of the Father coming to bring us home to our family.
He did not care what he would eat. He did not care where he would sleep. He was not afraid of the dangers that he might face. He was coming to bring his children home.


But still, do we realize? Our world is no less broken than Haiti still is today. Broken by the sins of greed and hatred. Littered with the trash of immorality and perversion. Full of plague and pestilance, growing day by day. Spiritual death is all around us and increases every day.



And yet our father came to suffer through those days to bring us home.

And how often do we, instead, of being comforted in his arms, tell him, "just a moment, I need to stay outside and play in this rubble."

How often do we, instead of running and yelling from the roof-tops - "Our father is here to take us home, he will take all who come to him!!" Do we instead keep his gift to ourselves as we are ashamed of our status as his children.

How often do we, instead of talking to him and loving him, do we instead, stay pent up in our own rooms until Sunday, when we might emerge to tell him hello and then go back to our own cares?

Christ did not come to be a babe in the manger. Christ came to bring us home. To rescue us.

And he did not come to have us sing quick 'hello', but to worship him for the gift of our adoption. And to tell the world of his love. And to bring others into his arms and out of the destruction. To show love to those that have no one else to help them.

Spiritual death is all around. And you never know when the walls of judgement will fall down on top of you. When the plague of sin will destroy your joy, your health, and your life. Only through Christ can you have the peace that no matter how hard this world is, no matter how bad you may have once been, you are still loved, and it will be alright. And that he is still here, ever present, always watching - and doing miracles in the lives of his children. He is alive and active.

Do you know who your Father is? Because over 2000 years ago, he came so that he could take you home. All you have to do is run to his arms.

2 comments:

debra parker said...

such a beautiful post. i am over the top honored that you would see such beauty out of our story.

always.

debra

Sandy said...

Hey Chick,
The churches in America need to hear the wonderful story of Christ and His Salvation offered freely.....You dear sister are at a wonderful church that does that....a lot of folks are not as blessed to have that story...Thank you for sharing the Parker's story with bloggyville....
Love ya,
Sandy