Welcome Home
A Concluding Word
to enter the forest of meditation, I have received sweet dewlike drops from that forest. I have found that the door to meditation is open everywhere and any time, at midnight or at noonday, at dawn or at dusk. Everywhere, on the street, on the trolley, on the train, in the waiting room, or in a prison cell, I am given a resting place of meditation, wherein I can meditate to my heart’s content on the Almighty God who abides in my heart. . . . Those who draw water from the wellspring of meditation know that God dwells close to their hearts. For those who wish to discover the quietude of old amid the hustle and bustle of today’s machine civilization, there is no way save to rediscover this ancient realm of meditation. Since the loss of my eyesight I have been as delighted as if I had found a new wellspring by having arrived at this sacred precinct.
Toyohiko Kagawa
The journey into meditative prayer is a long one. and unsure that we even want to take the journey. But in time, something marvelous begins occurring within. Slowly but surely each of us is being changed into the image of Christ. Our hearts’ desires begin to be formed in a new direction. Our feelings, our hopes, our longings all begin moving upward, Godward. The good rises up. The evil loses its grip. Our lives are penetrated throughout by love. We feel ourselves going from faith to faith—from the faith we have to the faith that is yet to come. This faith enables us to see more clearly everything in the light of God’s overriding governance for good. We feel a seed of hope growing within us, a hope that is able to carry us through the most difficult of circumstances. And a new power is generated deep within, power to overcome evil and to do what is right.
This transforming work does not happen all at once and not completely perhaps. But it does happen. The old games of manipulation and control begin losing their appeal to us. Guile becomes less and less a pattern of our daily life. A new compassion rises up within us for the bruised and the broken and the dispossessed. Indeed, it’s a kind of well-reasoned concern for the well-being of all people, of all creation. We are becoming friends of Jesus (Jn 15:14).
We may find ourselves looking at the changes in ourselves with surprised joy. We never thought in our wildest dreams that we would ever want to be a holy person. But now that is exactly what we long for, to be holy in a strong, winsome, vigorous sense. Interactive communication with God is becoming a natural way of life, as is our ability to listen. We are keen to listen for the voice of the true Shepherd. Not always and not perfectly. But the desire and the ability grow with each and every day. Well, not “every” day. But the days we fail to live in lively communion feel empty and wasted. The days of rich fellowship are more full, more satisfying.
We begin this exercise of meditative prayer out of an inner longing, but only as it becomes a holy habit will we stay with it. And the most amazing change of all is we begin living each day under a new power and a new management. We are owned by God and we are responding accordingly. We are learning, in the words of George Fox, to “.”
Welcome Home
In the summer of 1990 I was working furiously on what is now Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home. Of course it wasn’t a book then, just thousands of scrawled notes on scraps of paper, napkins and anything else I could find. The library staff at the university where I was teaching at the time gave me a special room for my research. They even gave me a key so I could go in anytime day or night.
Over those summer months I imagine I read three hundred books or more in the field of prayer. Classical books. Contemporary books. Books, books, books. My head was swimming with all the debates about prayer and all the definitions of prayer. I learned every jot and tittle of oratio and meditatio and contemplatio. I got so lost in Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle that I didn’t know which room was which!
I will never forget one specific night in July 1990. I was in the library all alone. Everyone had left hours ago. It was late. I had read too much, studied too much. I was experiencing overload. How in one book could anyone contend with all of the difficulties and all of the intricacies of prayer? There was no way. I threw up my hands, ready to abandon the project. Then something happened to me. Something that even today I find difficult to explain.
The only way I know to say it is that I saw something. What I saw was the heart of God, and the heart of God was an open wound of love. Then I heard the voice of the true Shepherd, not outwardly but inwardly, saying, “I do not want you to abandon this project. Instead, tell my people, tell my children, that my heart is broken. Their distance and their preoccupation wound me. Tell them. Tell my children to come home.”
And so I am telling you. As best I can, I am telling you that God is welcoming you and God is welcoming me home, home to where we belong, home to that for which we were created. We have been in a far country. It has been a country of climb and push and shove. It has been a country of noise and hurry and crowds. And God is welcoming us home—home to peace and serenity and joy.
We need not be afraid. God’s arms are stretched out wide to take us in. God’s heart is large enough to receive us. Welcome to the living room of God’s love, where we can put on old slippers and share freely. Welcome to the kitchen of God’s friendship, where chatter and batter mix in good fun. Welcome to the dining room of God’s strength, where we can feast to our heart’s delight. Welcome to the study of God’s wisdom, where we can grow and stretch and ask all the questions we want. Welcome to the workshop of God’s creativity, where we become co-laborers with God. Welcome to the bedroom of God’s rest, where new peace is found.
Jesus is the doorway into this home that is the heart of God, and prayer is the key that “by grace . . . through faith” unlocks the door (Eph 2:8). Welcome home. Welcome to the sanctuary of the soul.