You have breathed out a handful of words, but they carry the weight of a heart that knows it has wandered and longs to be home again. “Forgive me,” you cry, and then at once, “Let me return.” That is the very pattern of grace, the soul that is truly sorry never lingers in its sorrow, but looks straight toward the door of the Father’s house. You do not merely wish to be forgiven as a matter of pardon only; you wish to be brought back, restored to the place from which you feel estranged. This is a good work in you, and you may be sure it was not planted there by your own hand.
There is many a man who would take the forgiveness and never mind the return. He would like his sins blotted out, but he would remain just where he is, comfortable in his distance. Not so with you. You link the two together: forgive me, and let me go back. That tells me that the Lord Himself has already turned His face toward you, and the very ache you feel is the beginning of your journey home. A child may run from his father’s side, but when his heart begins to cry out for the old familiar door and the sound of his father’s voice, he is already on the road. The hardest part, the turning, is behind you.
Let me speak plainly about that word “forgive.” You have not come to a God who holds His mercies clenched in His fist, so that you must pry them loose with much pleading. No, He has opened His hand already in Jesus Christ. For Christ’s sake He blots out transgressions. Do you hear that? Not because you have felt sorry enough, nor because you can make amends, but for the sake of His dear Son, who bore all the weight of sin and exhausted its penalty. God can as justly forgive as He can justly rule the stars, because the debt has been paid. It is not half-paid, leaving you to settle the remainder. The whole dreadful heap is gone, carried away by the Lamb of God. So when you whisper, “Forgive i,” you are not begging for mercy from a reluctant Judge; you are asking for what He has already delighted to provide. Go on asking, for He loves to hear you, but believe as you ask. The forgiveness you seek is not a hope; it is a finished thing in Christ, waiting only for you to receive it with both hands.
And then, that return to the place you name, you have wrapped it in silence, but the Lord knows every street and every stone of it. Perhaps it is a place of duty, or a place of peace, or a place where you once walked closely with Him. You are in a hurry to be there. You say, “as early as possible.” I understand that holy haste. When the soul has been out in the cold, every hour before the fire seems an age. But let me steady you with this thought: the very moment you turned your heart toward home, the Lord began ordering the steps of your return. You may not see the path yet. There may be hedges and hollows between you and that dear spot, but He who called you is He who will bring you through. The God who forgives is the very same God who opens doors no man can shut. He can smooth out what looks like a tangle of impossibilities and set you down in that place as gently as a father lifts his child over a threshold.
Do not torment yourself by measuring the distance. The return is as sure as the pardon, because both rest on the same promise. When the prodigal turned his face homeward, he did not know whether he would be a son or a servant. He only knew he could no longer stay among the swine. But what met him? The father running, the robe, the ring, the feast. Our God is not slower than that father, but far more eager, if such a thing could be. He does not wait for you to arrive before He welcomes you; He has sent His Spirit to meet you on the road.
There is one sweet word in Scripture that has been like a little bell of hope to many a trembling soul: “But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared.” That “but” stands at the threshold of despair and swings the door wide open. You felt your sin like a lead weight, but. You feared you might be cast away, but. Your heart whispered that you had strayed too far, but. Let that small hinge bear all your weight. There is forgiveness, present tense, for you now. And where there is forgiveness, there is also the beginning of every good thing, including the return you long for.
Put your hand into the hand of Christ tonight, or this very hour, and do not try to peer into tomorrow. You are forgiven, not because you feel it, but because He has said it. And you shall return, not because you can see the way, but because He has pledged to guide you. May the Good Shepherd, who sought you when you were astray, now lead you with His own gentle voice into that place of rest and renewal you crave.
Lord Jesus, who didst bear our sins in Thine own body on the tree, speak peace to this heart that cries for pardon. Let the full tide of Thy forgiveness sweep away every fear. And since Thou hast put this longing to return into the soul, do Thou make the crooked places straight and the rough places plain, and bring Thy child home in Thy good time, for Thy name’s sake. Amen.