“Son, Welcome Home.”

Daniel Spencer on Trombone

Image by ChrisMoncusPhoto.com via Flickr

Well, It’s time like these
And it’s days like this that remind me I’m living in the wilderness,
And you dont know when trouble’s gonna come you way
Or when God’s gonna give or take it away.

This life,
This life is fleeting everything,
Everything’s dyin’,
But one day I’ll awake,
All my problems and my sin,
The won’t mattter to me then,
“Son, welcome home.”

The day doesn’t guarantee to come again,
And life only promises that it will end,
And we all gotta stand before the Lord one day,
And I don’t wanna die but I don’t wanna stay down here
I feel like a stranger,
I know, I don’t belong here,
I wanna run and I’ll fall down at Jesus’ feet and Lay.
I can’t way to here him say,
“Son, welcome home.”

But I’m still here,
And I’m tired,
tired of sin and struggling,
tired of almost everthing
and sometimes,
small and cleam
I could swear that I could hear
angels voices in my ear sayin’ welcome home.

(Welcome Home, O.C Supertones)

This week the director of the beach mission I went on died. He was riding his motorbike in Brazil and lost control of it, the news said. I wasn’t close to him. We spent all together about ten days in the same places at the same time. This is my first experience of losing a Christian friend, though, and I’m surprised at the emotions that are running through me. Instead of a raging grief, there is a comfort. I think I know why.

He’s home.

I don’t mean that he’s at rest. I mean he’s home. I think that he is hanging out with the Father. I think he has shaken hands with the Son. And I think he is controlled by the Holy Spirit. He is home.

And that’s all that I’m thinking…

That he has experienced the warm words of the Holy One, smiling and saying “Son, welcome home.”


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