You know the story of the prodigal son?” Pastor Voss asked. “It’s powerful, don’t you think? The father running out to the wayward-turned-repentant son, giving him the best clothes, preparing a giant feast. All to celebrate his return. I always wonder, when I read that story, how different it would have been if, instead of accepting his father’s gift, the son would have worn sackcloth and worked in his father’s pigsty…Loses some of its power that way, doesn’t it?”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“God’s calling you to be His son, not His slave. He doesn’t want you to wear shackles, Davis. Not when He’s already cut you free.

She doesn't sing in church anymore."
"Maybe she realizes there's nothing to sing about."
"Someday, Bethany, I hope you find out that you're wrong. There's so much to sing about.

It is not at all a fit place for you," said Clementina.

"Gently, my lady. It is a greater than thou that sets the bounds of my habitation. Perhaps He may give me a palace one day. But the Father has decreed for His children that they shall know the thing that is neither their ideal nor His. All in His time, my lady. He has much to teach us.

To be chosen as the Beloved of God is something radically different. Instead of excluding others, it includes others. Instead of rejecting others as less valuable, it accepts others in their own uniqueness. It is not a competitive, but a compassionate choice. Our minds have great difficulty in coming to grips with such a reality. Maybe our minds will never understand it. Perhaps it is only our hearts that can accomplish this. Every time we hear about 'chosen people', 'chosen talents', or 'chosen friends', we almost automatically start thinking about elites and find ourselves not far from feelings of jealousy, anger, or resentment. Not seldom has the perception of others as being chosen led to aggression, violence, and war.

She’s my daughter. The only one I have and the only child I’ll ever have. I see the fear in her eyes, I sense her hesitancy, but when I get her to smile it makes up for all those moments in between. I got this one chance. My last chance. I don’t want to blow what little time I have left with her so no, I don’t want anyone rocking her world.

As the children of God, we think of Him as a perfect, almighty, loving, caring and forgiving persona. We pray to Him to bless us and our food, and to fix our troubles. Will we ever become the grown-ups of God?