My Dear Shepherds,
There’s a moment before every orchestra concert, before the conductor walks out from the wings to the applause of the audience, when the concertmaster—the first violin—stands and everyone grows quiet. Then the oboe plays an A and each section, in turn, fine-tunes to that pitch. It’s not music but when the concert starts, even if every note was played correctly, the symphony wouldn’t be acceptable without that step.
Some of us have one passage of Scripture like that, one we tune our ministry to. For me, it is Jesus’ story of the father and his two wayward sons. And the tuning pitch, the A, at the heart of that story is this:
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)
I just can’t get over that verse!
Compassion is the pivot word. Typically, it’s the pity we feel for victims or mourners. It’s not how people respond to wastrels and ingrates no matter how sorry they say they are. Mercy, if they’re lucky, but not compassion. Yet it has always been God’s description of choice: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness . . ..” (Ex. 34:6). Compassion, because despite all that we have taken from God, he sees what we have lost, what we squandered, and believe it or not, his heart goes out to us.
Pastors (all believers, really, but certainly pastors) are ambassadors and agents of God’s compassion. We’re not mentioned in Jesus’ story, but we often show up like bit players in various scenes. You’ve been there, no doubt, when someone walked out on the Father. Perhaps the Lord dispatched you to meet a prodigal in a far-off country (a gym, rescue mission, or campus) as they herded pigs and famine growled. Maybe you were assigned by the Spirit to stir someone’s memory of home or help them come to their senses. Perhaps you walked the long road together till they saw the Father running toward them.
As I said, this story helps me keep ministry in tune. It not only tells the truth of the gospel; it attunes us to the hearts of both rebels and the self-righteous, but especially to the heart of the Father. “He ran to his son, threw his arms around him, and kissed him.” Kissed him! We’d be reluctant to describe God like this if Jesus himself hadn’t told the story.
One Sunday morning I stopped at the Mobil station on the corner to get my coffee as I always did. Sue, behind the counter, asked, “So what are you going to talk about today?”
“The prodigal son,” I told her. “You know that story, don’t you?” She shook her head, so I told her, reciting it almost verbatim. When I finished telling her about the Father’s grace, she had tears running down her cheeks. “That’s how God feels about you, Sue. That’s how he feels about you.”
You and I regularly gather with the other servants (and the unseen angels) for the Father’s full-on restoration feast. Every chance we get we join together in singing the new songs of salvation. We set the table again and again. With those new sandals, restored sons and daughters can “walk in the newness of life.” Their new robes are bright white righteousness. And the Father’s signet ring gives them access to all the treasures of the kingdom.
And we get to tell them all about it!
Be ye glad!
