Last time we spoke of just how transparent, how painfully transparent, Fanny Crosby was in the lyrics of Tenderly Calling.

I’m all by myself in the darkness, with no one and nothing to share.

Fanny was literally blind her whole life, but blessed to be raised by her grandmother who loved her incredibly well. But I wonder if at some point she realized that having to struggle with being blind, with never having any idea what this world truly looked like — colors, textures, creation, the night sky, people -– allowed her to feel more clearly and acutely what we all feel, or have felt, ever since the Fall of humanity? Separated. Alone. Even abandoned. Not by God, never by God, although we may think that. But so often by others. Fallen others.

There is still much goodness that can occur in this world, that can flow from our hearts to others, from the hearts that God gave us before they went wrong. His divine imprint remains in our tainted and conflicted hearts, and does manifest from time to time. Thank goodness.

But even more significantly, most of the time we are alone in this life because . . . we choose to be. We choose to be independent much of the time, because it seems better, it feels better, we believe we’re capable of figuring out this life on our own. And much of the time, if we could only admit it, we want to be independent because . . . we want what we want. Sad, but true.

Others can love us well if they are motivated by the Holy Spirit to do so. But our greatest chance of truly being loved in this life can result from our reaching out to God Himself.

Close your eyes. Shut out the world. And just here, we can see that Fanny had a headstart on the rest of us. Shut out not only the sights, but the sounds. Be patient. Quiet your mind. After a little while, see if anything rises up in your heart. What might be residing there that God could help you with? Have you asked Him? Please do. And now, I will leave the rest of this to you, for it is just for you, very private, between Him and only you.

Maybe this would be a good time to listen to the song again, but especially the chorus:

Home come on home
Ye who are weary come home
Softly and tenderly calling
Home come on home

Home. Ye who are weary come home. Does it not help for us to be weary, for us to be more than weary, maybe even close to the end of ourselves, before we give God any thought at all?

And is this not what He is hoping for? Like the father of the prodigal son? Waiting, waiting so long. He could have gone after the young man, or at least sent some of his servants to go looking for him. Maybe even drag him back home. But he didn’t. He knew that unless something changed in the young man’s heart, he would just run off again, run off to seek the things in this life he believed could fill him. Hopefully his recklessness will not be the end of him, before he comes to his senses, and returns home, the only place where real goodness and fulfillment reside.

If we could have heard the prodigal’s angst, and his thoughts; might they have sounded something like this:

I try to keep it together, and I never let on that I’m scared
till sometimes I fall to pieces, scattered and lost everywhere
and just when it feels like it’s hopeless, and I’ll never make it alone
I hear the voice deep inside me, its tenderly calling me home

God is waiting for all of us, back home. He is tenderly calling out to us. Will we let Him to speak to us where we most need it? To soothe the wounds we have suffered in this life, but also to call us back from our independence, from the places we have run off to? And His voice is inside too, because He placed it there.

Close your eyes. Quiet your mind. Let Him speak.

Home. Home. Home.

Next time,

Sam