I remember the day I decided to run away. Not in a dramatic, shouting-match sort of way—just quietly, with a kind of stubborn determination that only a kid can muster. I’d had enough of my parents and their rules, so I set off on my bike, pedaling toward the farthest edge of our neighborhood.
On the southeast side, near the pond, I found my spot. It seemed perfect—tucked away, far from home but not too far. That’s where I would build my new life.
Using fallen branches from the nearby trees, I started constructing a shelter. It wasn’t much, but in my mind, it was a fortress, a refuge. I had a plan. I had even brought my fishing pole, convinced that I could live off the land, catching fish from the pond for food.
But, like many great adventures dreamed up by children, mine was cut short by a simple oversight—I had forgotten the PowerBait. No bait meant no fish. No fish meant no dinner. And suddenly, my grand escape didn’t seem so grand.
So, I did what most runaway kids do. I packed up my things, got back on my bike, and rode home just in time for the dinner my mom had made.
Now that I’m a dad, I’ve already experienced my first “I’m going to run away from you” moment. My oldest son, Willie, decided he had had enough. He climbed onto his bike, determined to leave, and started pedaling toward the park near our house.
I stood in the driveway, watching him go. But then, just as he reached the edge of the block, he stopped. His feet came off the pedals and planted themselves on the ground. I could almost see the thoughts playing across his face—realization sinking in. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t live without Mom and Dad.
And so, humbly, he turned his bike around and pedaled right back to where he had been just minutes before.
It’s hard to run away from your parents. Harder than we think. Maybe because we weren’t made to be separated from them. This is an earthly reflection of a Heavenly reality.
We weren’t meant to be separated from our Heavenly Father. And yet, we were—not by His choice, but by ours.
In different ways, at different times, we have all chosen to run away. We’ve chased after the fleeting pleasures of this world, convinced they would satisfy. We’ve been like the prodigal son, turning our backs on the Father who loves us, squandering what He’s given us on things that never truly fulfill.
We’ve been there, haven’t we? We know what it feels like to live a life He never chose for us. We’ve felt the pain, the humiliation, the sorrow of sin. We’ve carried the weight of regret. And like every child who has ever run away, like every little boy who momentarily forgets that his parents are the ones who sustain him, we sometimes forget that our Heavenly Father is the one who gives us life.
But when we reach the muck and mire of our own making—when we hit rock bottom and realize that all we chased after has left us empty—we remember. We weren’t meant to be separated from Him.
And so we return.
Humbled. Maybe afraid. Maybe unsure if He will take us back.
But He’s there. He’s waiting. He’s ready. And there is nothing He wants more than for His children to come home.
If you’re in a season of running away from the Father who loves you, might I encourage you—hop back on that bike and pedal on home.
See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!
1 John 3:1
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