Let's Get You Home

This morning in class, a professor asked me something no one ever has before. I've been asked many times about my dreams, visions, and passions and I have gladly spilled each time as much information as was appropriate for the moment. In this past season, God has been doing a new thing in my heart, and the mission and vision for my life has been more deeply and intricately developed than ever before. I have been able to more easily define what I have been created for and who my heart yearns for, and recently put on paper for the first time a rough draft of the ministry the Lord has implanted in my heart. My professor didn't ask me about any of this, though. He didn't want to know my vision, or my game plan, or my life goals after this final year of college. My professor simply asked, "What is your personal philosophy for ministry?"

We went around the room one student at a time as each person shared their own personal philosophy for ministry. It was such a beautiful thing to see the tender hearts of my peers and to dream of everything God has for each one of them in future seasons. Some discussed a philosophy of servanthood, others a philosophy of evangelism, and others a philosophy of obedience. Then came my turn. I introduced myself to the professor, told him my major, where I was from, and that this was my senior year here at Oral Roberts University. I had been thinking for the past 30 minutes while others students were speaking about how I would answer this foreign question when my turn finally came. There only seemed to be one appropriate answer for me.

My philosophy for ministry is to take people by the hand and show them the way back home.

So many times people wake up one day and realize that they are a million miles from home. How they got there, they couldn't tell you. How to get back, they have no clue. Like the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, they have found themselves miles away from their father, empty-handed, yearning to be anywhere but the place they have fallen. They want to know what it would feel like to sit down for dinner with their family, laughing and delighting in their father, but which way is it to their father's house? If they ever found it, would He let them in? The reality is that they are not going to find their way home on their own. They need someone to intersect their life and say, "Let's get you home. I know the way." We can't make the journey for them- it must be their decision- but we can make the journey with them.

The thing about accompanying someone on their journey home is that sometimes it can get messy. Those whose hands we hold have the tendency to hurt us, to kick up dirt that will soil our clothes, to wander in circles and get distracted when all we want to do is take them the straight shot back home. The journey takes time. What we think should be a two-night excursion can turn into weeks or months or years of venturing. As people are being restored and healed and brought back to health, a process takes place that has no determined time frame. It isn't easy, and though it is full of joy, it isn't always fun.

The reward, however, comes as our new friend rounds the corner and sees the Father standing at the door looking into the distance awaiting his arrival. He sees his Father take off running not away from him, but toward him, coming to embrace him. His Father takes him into the house and throws him a party to celebrate his arrival. His son that was lost is now found, and we got to be a small part of that journey. What greater privilege do we have as sons and daughters of the Father than to be sent by our dad to take the hand of our little brothers and sisters and lead them home?