August 21
The Light Left On
My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.
— John 14:2–3 (NIV)
When someone I love is out late, I leave the porch light on. It’s a small thing — a bulb against the dark — but it says what I don’t have words for at midnight: I’m still here. Come home. Your place is ready.
I’ve been on the other side of that light too. There have been seasons I wandered further than I meant to — from people, from myself, from God. Times I was sure I’d been gone too long to be missed, that whatever seat I’d once had at the table had quietly been given away. Shame does that. It convinces you the light went out.
Then I read what Jesus told His friends, knowing He was about to leave them: “My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.” A place. Prepared. Kept. Not a general vacancy — yours, made ready before you thought to come back.
Remember the father who saw his son “while he was still a long way off,” and ran. He didn’t wait on the porch with his arms crossed, counting the cost of the wandering. He ran. The welcome was already moving toward the one coming home.
Friend, if you’ve been away — from prayer, from church, from the person you meant to be — hear this gently. The room is still yours. The light never went out. You have not out-wandered the place He kept for you.
You don’t have to earn your way back in. You only have to come home.
Around the Table
- Is there a place — a person, a practice, a faith — you’ve assumed you’ve been away from too long?
- What first told you the light had gone out? Was it ever true?
- When you picture God waiting for you, is His posture what you fear, or what Jesus describes?
- Whose porch light could you be this week, for someone sure they’ve stayed away too long?
A Simple Prayer
Father,
I have wandered further than I meant to, and believed the lie that I’d lost my place.
Thank You for the room You prepared and kept.
Thank You for running to meet me while I was still a long way off.
Here I am. I’m coming home.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
The light is still on. Come home.
Is something weighing on your heart today? Let me pray for you — a name, a need, or a quiet ache. You don’t have to carry it alone.
The Sacred Table Co. 