"Sometime, someplace, usually when all seems lost, often in our loneliest moment, our scariest hour, all we have to do is turn around and start homeward. And as we hand Jesus that beloved suitcase filled with our heart-most treasures, He will lift us to Himself and bear us home."
From The Christian Science Monitor comes a wonderful story called "The Night I Ran Away" by David Mazel, which has special meaning on this day.
Perhaps every child has thought, at one time or another, of running away from home. Most of us do not, having the wisdom to get over hurt feelings and stay put in the warmth of our parents' love. But some actually do run away. I was one of these.
I even snitched my father's suitcase to pack my things in, my father's beloved bag. It had belonged originally to his great-grandfather, who brought it with him from Poland to America with all his worldly goods in it. Its handle had a lining of genuine fleece, very sweet to hold.
Full of hurt I have long since forgotten, I left a note on the door to my room, "Papa, Mama, I'm running away. You'll be sorry." Then I sneaked out of the house, carrying the suitcase packed with my favorite toys, books and clothes.
It was night and snowing heavily. Clouds and clouds of snow swirled endlessly ahead.
I got as far as a hill overlooking railroad tracks, about two blocks from home. A big, sooty blur that was a locomotive pulling a long line of freight cars puffed by. For a moment I had the notion to run down the hill and hop aboard, and make my brave way in the world alone. But then I thought of my father, and how in his work he often had to take trains to go places, and how lost he would be without his suitcase. And I thought, too, of my warm room. I turned back and headed home.
Halfway there, my father met me. He had followed my footprints in the snow. I stopped before him, feeling foolish and guilty. "It's not mine," I said, holding the suitcase out to him. "It's yours."
He took it, then knelt down and embraced me. He wouldn't let me walk back home, but insisted on carrying me. With one hand he carried the suitcase, and with the other, snug against his shoulder, me.
My mother was waiting for us on the lighted porch. When she saw me, all sticky-wet with snow, she didn't know whether to scold me or cry for gladness. She wrung her hands and said, "Just look at that boy!" And then she gathered me into her arms (and welcomed me home).
* * * *
Whether or not we've run away from home as children, most of us have felt the powerful emotions of being away from and returning home. I remember so well the deep longings I experienced when on long deployments to the Arctic land of Iceland with my Navy Squadron. We were tough Navy pilots and not supposed to have those "homesick" kind of feelings, but I assure you, every one of us went to bed most nights, tough "lonely" Navy pilots.
The recent return of hostages from Lebanon brought out many deep-seated feelings of separation and reunion. Who can forget the long, loving embrace between hostage Joseph Cicippio and his terminally-ill sister when he walked into the door of his home.
But strongest of all is the Christmas season, which stimulates in most of us the need to return home. Seasonal movies like "ET" and "It's a Wonderful Life," and holiday songs echo our deepest feelings.
"Christmas Day will find me
Where I long to be
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams."
Many of you are experiencing this tonight, for you are here with families collected from all across this country and as far away as Australia and Thailand.
As our opening story reminds us, these deep feelings of home originate from parental family ties and our need as children to be taken care of. But as we grow older and a bit wiser, I think we begin to get in touch with a different kind of yearning, an even deeper longing which goes beyond the emotional sentiments of dreaming of a white Christmas, a yearning which originates in the soul. We realize that our spiritual side is lonely and we long for God to fill these hollow spots inside.
As great St. Augustine put it so well:
"Thou hast made us for Thyself, O God
And our hearts are restless
Until they rest in thee."
The problem is that many of us have run away from our spiritual home. We have packed our "Father's" bag with childish things and left the warmth of God's home to make our way alone in the dark and snowy cold world.
The good news of Christmas is that we can never get very far from God, no matter how hard we run, how far we travel. For as our opening story reminds us, God sent and continues to send His Son, Jesus Christ, into this world to follow our footsteps to keep track of us wherever we roam. Like it or not, we cannot outrun Him.
Sometime, someplace, usually when all seems lost, often in our loneliest moment, our scariest hour, all we have to do is turn around and start homeward. And we will meet Him face to face--Jesus Christ, The Son of God.
And as we hand Jesus that beloved suitcase filled with our heart-most treasures, He will lift us to Himself and bear us home. There to be met by God, who I am convinced stands like a worried mother on the lighted porch of heaven, not quite sure whether to scold us or cry out for joy. But always ready to gather up our restless hearts and carry us home. Amen.
Merry Christmas!
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