We all soon grow tired of the distant land

We eventually all grow tired of the distant land
Whether the money needs to run out first or it just never ends
Our spirit soon recognizes that this isn’t home
It soon grows tired of trying to impress the crowd,
putting up a facade so it can be continually praised
Our spirits soon start longing for home,
For the embrace of our Father’s arms
The laughter of a peaceful home
And the joy of being accepted for who we are, not what we have

The distant land is not home
It can never be!
You can try build a mansion there but it will never be home
You can try make many friends but they can never replace family
You can give until you have none to give but it will never give back

Because the distant land knows no love
All it knows is how to kill, steal and destroy
No wander famines are a season there;
The distant land has no Loving Father
And peace is as common as water on the sun

And our hearts can’t handle that
Because our hearts were made to love beyond measure
Our hearts were made for Spirit and truth,
Our hearts were made to rest in the Father’s arms every night and experience a peace so glorious, it cannot be explained

And so, in the distant land, the heart clothes itself with the money until the barren distant land strips it naked
Then it seeks refuge in friends that fail to recognize it in all its nakedness
Heartbroken, it eventually settles for a life of slavery

But in the quiet still muddy pig pen,
The familiar sound of Home calls out to it,
“Come back home, come back to love
His arms are waiting
His mercy has already forgiven your mistakes
And the servants wait to clean you up again and restore you to Son”

And The heart will tug at you,
urging you to go back to authenticity

And I hope, I wish and I pray
That when you feel the faint voice of home calling,
Like the prodigal son who immediately took action,
I pray you may get up and begin the journey back home


Because the Father loves you so much
You could even consider it Prodigal Love

What do you think?