I went to Walmart today (I know, big mistake) to fill a prescription that was supposed to be ready by 11:15am (It wasn’t, but that’s a story for another time.) I walked around and browsed to kill some time. As I crisscrossed through the store I passed a certain woman several times. She had the cutest baby girl in purple footie pajamas with ruffles on her backside. My heart literally ached for my baby girl, Isabel, who we lost to miscarriage at 17 weeks. I looked and each time my heart constricted with a particularly acute feeling. Not a feeling of grief, loss, or even anger. The best I can describe it as is—lonely… longing… yearning. To see her face, to smell her hair, to comfort her, and guide her in this life. That is the job of a parent; to protect, teach, correct. To love above all else—no matter what.
As I drove home I pondered on that feeling. That longing feeling for this relationship that should have been mine but was so cruelly and suddenly taken from me.
In a much larger scale I would imagine that was how God felt when he found Himself on the outside, looking in on His creation. When Adam fell, God was separated from the people He had created to have an intimate relationship with Him. Adam walked with God in the cool of the day. They talked, had fellowship. Then suddenly, without warning and through no fault of His own. The awful tearing of separation.
Whether we know it or not, we were created to be sons and daughters of the Most High God. We were created to partake in a relationship no other creature in heaven or on earth will experience. I can imagine God looking over the banister of heaven—always waiting, always loving. Watching those who have chosen to run as far from Him as possible. People who may even curse Him. Yet there He waits with a Father’s heart, longing to be reconciled with His children.
The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some count slackness, but is long suffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. (2 Peter 3:9)