You carry a heavy ache, and I can see it has worn a deep groove in your heart. The empty place beside you, the silence where a voice used to be, that is a real sorrow, and the Lord Jesus does not stand far off from you in it. He who wept at the grave of His friend is near to the brokenhearted; He keeps count of your tossings and puts your tears in His bottle. You are not forgotten, though at this hour it may feel as if heaven itself has grown quiet.
What you long for, a return, a forgiveness, a love restored, is not a small thing to bring before the throne of grace. Human love, as you have discovered, can be a flickering flame. It may burn brightly for a season, and then a wind of trouble, a failure, or a fault can make it sputter and smoke. It is the nature of earthly affection to ebb and flow, and the best of men are but men at their best. Do not heap all the blame upon yourself alone, as if your mistakes were the only reason the flame has dimmed. Even if you had done everything perfectly, you would still be leaning upon a frail creature made of dust. This is why the Scripture warns us not to put our ultimate trust in man, for the firmest friend can be subject to the infirmities of the race. But there is a love that does not flicker, a love that does not fail when ours fails, or flee when we have fled. The heart of Christ is an altogether different fire: it does not begin as a spark only to die out in the dark; it grows from strength to strength, from a beacon to the very sun in its heat and majesty. And this love He has set upon those who come to Him, even when they come limping and weeping like you.
Now, consider the word forgiveness. You long for it from the one you have lost, and that is a natural cry. But before any human pardon can steady your soul, there is a sweeter note to be sounded: “But there is forgiveness with You, that You may be feared.” That little word but is a whisper of hope in the very court of judgment. When conscience has done its worst work and the heart sinks under the memory of what we have said and done, the gospel does not merely point a finger, it opens a door. God, who might have marked every iniquity we have ever committed, has devised a means by which His banished ones may be brought home again. Do you remember the cities of refuge in the old time? The man who had blood on his hands, even if it was shed by accident, fled for his life, and the moment his foot crossed the threshold of that appointed city, he was safe. The avenger of blood could not touch him there. Jesus Christ is our City of Refuge. The very moment you fled to Him, your foot crossed the threshold and you were secure. And this same Jesus does not merely hide you from wrath; He restores the years the locust has eaten. He rebuilds the broken walls, and He is not puzzled by the tangle of your life or the addiction that holds the one you love.
You pray for him, for his drug consumption and for his soul. That is a right and holy prayer. The Lord knows how to bring a man back from the far country, even when the far country is a fog of substances and unbelief. He has means you cannot see. There was once a woman who came pleading before a king with a story that mirrored God’s own heart: “We must die, and are as water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; yet God devises means, so that His banished ones are not expelled from Him.” The heavenly wisdom is put to work for this very purpose, to bring wanderers home. The Shepherd’s crook is long and His patience is deep. Do not think the case is hopeless because your own hands cannot reach him. The Lord who broke the chains of the demoniac among the tombs can break the power of every craving, and the voice that stilled the Galilee storm can speak peace to a soul that knows only chaos. Your part now is to place this soul into the pierced hands that bled for him, and to let your own soul rest there while you wait.
While you wait, and waiting is the hardest work, do not let your own faith rust. The bottom of this salvation chariot in which you ride is not made of our fickle feelings; it is paved with love for the daughters of Jerusalem. When you look down, beneath the cedar wood and the silver pillars and the purple canopy of atonement, you find that the very floor is love, strong, thick, steadfast love that cannot be worn through by all your pacing back and forth in anxiety. Christ’s love is not a maybe or a perhaps; He rests in His love, and having loved His own, He loves them to the end. Fix your eyes there. You cannot command another’s will, and you cannot bring him back by the sheer force of your longing. But you can cast yourself upon the One who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or even think. He can do in a moment what all your striving cannot accomplish in a lifetime.
Hush your heart with this: even if every earthly affection proves to be as water spilled on the ground, you have a Husband who will never break His covenant, a Friend who sticks closer than a brother. Go to Him with your empty hands and say, “Lord, here I am, and here is he whom I love, two banished ones who need to be brought near.” And then leave the question of how and when to His own wise heart. For his part, the Lord may use even the misery of his present chains to drive him to the only One who can set him truly free. For your part, let your own soul be filled with the forgiveness that is according to the riches of His grace, a great forgiveness for great sins, washing you whiter than snow, so that you may love much, having been forgiven much, and so be kept in perfect peace.
Let us pray to the Lord together.
O precious Savior, You see this sorrowing one and You know the weight she carries. Be to her now the very present Help in trouble. We beseech You, reach out Your hand to the one who is wandering, caught in snares that only Your power can break. Let the light of Your gospel shine upon him, and woo him out of the darkness into Your marvelous light. Whether he returns or not, grant this beloved woman such a sight of Your unchangeable love that her soul is anchored firmly in You. Bind up her wounds, restore to her the joy of Your salvation, and make her to find that Your grace is sufficient for every ache and every empty place. We commend her and him to You, the great Lover of souls, for Your name’s sake. Amen.
