Returning Hearts

 The Way Home 

Reading: Jeremiah 3:1–14

“‘Return, faithless people,’ declares the Lord, ‘for I am merciful.’” (Jeremiah 3:12)

In the book of Jeremiah, we encounter a God who speaks to His wandering people not with the coldness of a judge, but with the ache of a wounded husband. To understand the weight of this call, we must look at the "legal scandal" of the ancient world: under Mosaic Law, a husband was forbidden from taking back a spouse who had abandoned him. Judah had "married" herself to idols, and by all legal standards, the relationship was over. Yet, God subverts His own protocol to reach for His people, proving that divine holiness does not eliminate tenderness—it intensifies it. As Thomas Watson captured, “The mercy of God is a fountain that is always full; it is a sun that is always shining.” Even when we turn our backs to that sun, its warmth remains constant, waiting for us to face the light again.

As we stand on the eve of Ash Wednesday, this call to "Return" takes on a seasonal urgency. Tomorrow marks the beginning of Lent, a journey of repentance where we acknowledge we are but "leaking jugs" of clay. The Desert Father Abba Moses illustrated this perfectly: when called to judge a fellow monk’s sin, he arrived carrying a leaking jug of sand. When asked why, he replied, “My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, yet today I am coming to judge the error of another.” This humility is the heart of Lent. We realize that human logic says, “You failed; therefore, distance,” but God says, “You failed; therefore, come closer.” We remember that “mercy does not just forgive the debt; it restores the debtor.”

As we prepare for the Lenten fast, we realize that our identity is maintained by this daily act of returning. Repentance is not a performance of groveling to appease an angry deity; it is the act of returning to the One who never stopped watching the road for our arrival. We are prone to wander, yet we are met by a compassion that is “fresh and new every morning,” ensuring we never have to live in the shadows of yesterday’s failures. As we prepare to receive the ashes of repentance, let us do so with joy, walking back toward a Father whose arms are already open. We realize that our shame is a liar and His welcome is the only truth that lasts.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, we return to You again today, acknowledging the ways our hearts have wandered from Your truth. As we approach the season of Lent and the solemnity of Ash Wednesday, remind us that we are all "leaking jugs" in need of Your grace. We thank You that Your mercy reaches beyond the legal limits of our failures to bring us home. Heal our divided hearts and teach us to trust Your open arms more than our own shame. Amen.