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Aug 18, 2022 08:00am

He Leaves the Light on

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“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Romans 8:35a

Separation.

It stings, haunts, twists facts, and often tries to cover truth. I’ve watched my dogs kick dirt over waste and trot away, but do I practice it as well? When I cast judgment, rush to condemn the actions of others, and distance myself, am I feeling a bit lofty? Do I see differences more easily than I see similarities? A wise man once stated, “We are the all the same, in many different ways.” There’s some meaty truth on that bone we need to chew on. In Romans 8, the Spirit calls out several obvious takeaways:

We don’t know how to pray as we should.
We don’t admit that God is for us as believers.
We don’t get the last word on justification, God does.
We fail to remember that nothing shall separate us from the love of Christ.

Thank heavens that God extends His feasting table to include us, instead of sending us to our rooms to separate from fellowship when we resemble a spiritual toddler. I dare say that most of our adult acting out is rooted in our separation from His presence. A spiritual time-out isn’t the answer.

Victory in Him is a divine partnership, a union, a closeness that separation would never achieve. I can remember numerous times I brought negative consequences into play growing up. (Just for the record, most of the time I was dared and couldn’t resist.) My earthly Dad had the difficult task of using those teachable moments to remind me that poor choices bring ripples of pain and discomfort but never a severing of his fatherhood. I’m thankful that Dad’s naval service prepared him well for the challenges of deep waters since I tended to stir them up, drift from shore, and need an extra life jacket or three. No doubt my earthly commander modeled the necessity for a heavenly Admiral. One doesn’t require a spyglass from the crow’s nest to determine that our victories are short sighted. Anything of value we would remotely be connected to will come through Christ being magnified in us.

I have gently handled the black and white ragged photographs of my dad shipping out at age seventeen. I’ve heard the milder versions of his experiences while assigned to the USS Randall during WWII. I’ve weathered two deployments with our older son, and I can attest that separation changes you. You don’t sweat the small stuff and it’s all small stuff until that sweaty, dirty, and handsome face appears back on U.S. soil. God truly blesses homecomings. Ask the prodigal son. Coming home serves many purposes. It changes our vision, widens our perspective, and hopefully crafts our hearts to be more like His. Learn the lessons that separation can bring, but run when you spot home. Your Father always leaves the light on.