Does your Father run? Mine does.
My father loved me dearly and though I don’t remember him literally running to hug me, I have vivid memories of running sprints with my father one day in our front yard. I was just beginning to rise into to my youthful-athletic-prime, and he was getting close to the end of his. But guess who won the sprints? Yep…my old man.
Memories are all that’s left; for my father has finished his earthly race. But I do have a Heavenly Father that runs. He runs to me. He runs because he longs to wrap me in his arms. He runs because he loves me.
I am his prodigal daughter. I have been reckless and wasteful. I have wandered away. Upon coming to my senses and beginning the humble trek back, my aching Father who has been looking for me…waiting and longing for me–My Father– is moved with compassion, and upon catching a glimpse of me ever so far away, RUNS! (cf. Lk 15:20
He runs with joy. He runs with passion. He runs with love. He sprints to me!!
He encircles his arms of mercy around me and I collapse
into his panting breaths