I looked up and down the street. He wasn’t there. My toddler son was gone. After dropping a bag of groceries in the house, I had returned for my almost two year old son. Now he was missing. The sidewalk was empty. Every yard on the street was vacant. I began to scream wild, desperate screams.  

The Lord is searching. He is desperate for us. He cries out for us. His voice isn’t always audible, but it’s always present. The Bible tells us that he stands at the door and knocks. All we have to do is answer. Am I desperate?  

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.” (Psalms 91:14-15 NIV)  

The silence of our street reverberated with my screams. Then I heard the voice, small and scared. “Mama.”  

He had been hiding. How often do I hide? I hide in my sin. I hide in my busyness. I hide from the voice that wants to protect and guide. I remain quiet while his words fill the space around me. While he desperately desires me, I remain mute.  

My son held his arms out to me. Complete trust. Do I hold out my arms to the one who longs to hold me?  

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.” (Matthew 23:37, NIV) 

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