You love the stranger just as much you do me and I can't understand it. Why is it you love the son who left us, took you for granted, and is now back at your feet asking for forgiveness. He doesn't deserve it. I don't deserve this.
Why is it so hard for me to give up my idea of who you should be? Are you not my father? Don't you love me more that how i feel right now?
Oh but I do...I am. Do you not know that I love the stranger and the brother the way that I do, so that you may also love in the same way?
Am I not with you always? Do I not love you more than rest, and the rest more than the least, and the least more than the most? Don't be ashamed for how you feel. It's not your place to shed grace on your inequities. A rose can't make others bleed without first being planted and it can't save itself from having its thorn removed.
You are my heralded child. I hold you dearly. I know you. Without transgression there cannot be grace. Have grace for others knowing that.
Hold tightly to what you don't know, and loosely to the things you think.
I am good. I am yours. You are mine.
