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Missing Peace Series - Part 4
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Missing Peace Series - Part 4
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Anybody in this room ever gave everything to something you really wanted to do, but the return on your investment wasn't what you thought it would be? You gave everything to the relationship. You gave everything to the city. You gave everything to the lifestyle, and the only thing that lifestyle gave back was heartbreak, disappointment, betrayal, and disease.
The prodigal son had spent all his money. His entire inheritance was consumed by the life he thought he wanted to live. When his money ran out, he had nothing. He went to a faraway country where the culture, customs, and climate were completely different from his father's house—and he didn't know how to live in that world.
"He thought he would like it till he got there."
Has anybody here ever gotten something you thought you wanted, but as soon as you got it, you realized you don't want it? Has anybody made plans to go do a thing, and after you did it, you asked yourself, "Why did I even do this thing?"
When his money ran out, he went to a farmer and asked for work. The farmer said, "You can feed my pigs." So he went to feed the pigs. He wasn't just envious of the people in that town—they still had means to support themselves during the famine. But he had spent all his money, and then a famine broke out. He was in the middle of the famine, with a job feeding pigs, and now he was jealous of the pigs he was feeding.
"Man, they're eating better than me."
And the workers overseeing him wouldn't let him have what the pigs had. That's heartbreaking—they'll let the pigs have it, but you can't have it. Just keep picking up behind them.
Then Scripture says: "He came to himself."
I don't even know how it happens. It doesn't say the conviction of the Holy Spirit hit him. It doesn't say he remembered the words of his father. But somehow, someway, he came to himself. And that's what a pig pen will do. A pig pen will make you come to yourself.
Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom and stay there long enough that you start asking yourself, "Do I really want to be in this situation anymore?" Sometimes you have to be so broke for so long that you finally say to yourself, "Do I really want to be in this situation?" Sometimes the people you love the most have to disassociate themselves from you so you can feel their absence enough to ask, "Do I really want to be in this situation?"
It finally dawned on him: the slaves in his father's house eat better than him right now.
When you come to yourself, then you can have the journey of getting peace. But here's the thing—for peace to really be inhabited by a believer, you must first have a safe enough mind. You cannot experience peace in your life until your mind is safe enough to heal. Your mind has to change. You have to be renewed in your thinking. Your inner narrative has to change from the inside out if you're ever going to be who God has called you to be and receive the promises God wants you to have. You can't have a pigsty mentality and be a son or daughter in the kingdom of God.
When he came to himself, this level of self-awareness gave him the indication that "I cannot heal amongst hogs." He could come to his senses around them, but he couldn't heal around them. If he was going to get healed, he was going to have to change his environment.
"I can come to my senses around you crazy people, but I can't heal around you crazy people. I'm going to have to change my environment."
I don't know who I'm preaching to today, but God is breaking some of you away from people you thought you were going to be with the rest of your life—only because you cannot heal amongst some hogs.
He came to himself and said, "I can't heal amongst these hogs. I'm going home." And he started rehearsing a speech for his father.
"I know I messed up. I basically looked my daddy in the eye and told him to drop dead. But he gave me the money and I spent it all. He's not going to let me back in the house like I used to be, but I have to apologize."
He was desperate to come home. He didn't care about his status anymore.
"Daddy, I have sinned before heaven and in your presence. I am not worthy to be your son. Make me as one of your slaves. I don't even have to sleep in the bed. Put me in a cot on the floor. Put me in the garage. As long as I'm in your house, I'm safe."
When you're desperate to come home, you'll take anything to get back in that house.
As he was walking down the street toward his father's house, he started to get close. What he didn't know was that his father could see him. The father saw his son from afar off because he had been looking for him. But he never left his house. Because the father has a boundary.
I want you to understand this: "I want to have a relationship with you again, but I'm not going to go hunt for where you went with my money. I want to restore what we had, but I'm not going out there to where you went."
A lot of times we get caught up in the romanticism of the Savior—that He's a good Shepherd who will leave the 99 and go after the one. And that's true. The song is dope, and it's the truth:
"Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God. It chases me down, fights till I'm found, leaves the 99, and I couldn't earn it."
It is the truth that a good Shepherd will leave the 99 to go after the sheep that is lost. But the Shepherd is not chasing the sheep that left.
I hope I can help somebody in this room. Your God has a boundary. When you leave the house willingly and knowingly, you need to understand God is not chasing a rebellious son or a rebellious daughter. We're not talking about somebody who innocently got lost. We're talking about somebody who said, "I know what you want me to do, and I know how you want me to do it. Give me my money. I'm leaving. I want no parts of this anymore."
Yes, His reckless love will go after who is lost. But your God has too much of a boundary to go after who left.
"You know where I live. You left my house. When you come to your senses, you know how to get back to my house. You know what road you went down to leave my house. When you come to yourself and you don't want to smell like hogs anymore, bring your tail right back to the house that you left. I'll leave the light on for you."
"I'm not chasing you. You had all the peace you needed in this house before you left. You left the house and lost your peace. You didn't lose your peace in this house. You lost that peace when you walked out of my house."
I need to tell parents in here: let that child go. You're not dealing with an 11-year-old anymore. That girl is 22 years old. Pray the prayer of protection over that person. Let them go.
I'm trying to tell you something. You can't control a grown child. God's not messing with your free will. If this is what you want to do, go out there and do you. See how good it feels to do you. You think my boundaries and my restrictions are uncomfortable for you? Go out there and spend your money on them. After six months, come and tell me how it felt.
I'm just trying to help somebody find some peace. That's all I'm really trying to do.
Anybody in this room ever gave everything to something you really wanted to do, but the return on your investment wasn't what you thought it would be? You gave everything to the relationship. You gave everything to the city. You gave everything to the lifestyle, and the only thing that lifestyle gave back was heartbreak, disappointment, betrayal, and disease.
The prodigal son had spent all his money. His entire inheritance was consumed by the life he thought he wanted to live. When his money ran out, he had nothing. He went to a faraway country where the culture, customs, and climate were completely different from his father's house—and he didn't know how to live in that world.
"He thought he would like it till he got there."
Has anybody here ever gotten something you thought you wanted, but as soon as you got it, you realized you don't want it? Has anybody made plans to go do a thing, and after you did it, you asked yourself, "Why did I even do this thing?"
When his money ran out, he went to a farmer and asked for work. The farmer said, "You can feed my pigs." So he went to feed the pigs. He wasn't just envious of the people in that town—they still had means to support themselves during the famine. But he had spent all his money, and then a famine broke out. He was in the middle of the famine, with a job feeding pigs, and now he was jealous of the pigs he was feeding.
"Man, they're eating better than me."
And the workers overseeing him wouldn't let him have what the pigs had. That's heartbreaking—they'll let the pigs have it, but you can't have it. Just keep picking up behind them.
Then Scripture says: "He came to himself."
I don't even know how it happens. It doesn't say the conviction of the Holy Spirit hit him. It doesn't say he remembered the words of his father. But somehow, someway, he came to himself. And that's what a pig pen will do. A pig pen will make you come to yourself.
Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom and stay there long enough that you start asking yourself, "Do I really want to be in this situation anymore?" Sometimes you have to be so broke for so long that you finally say to yourself, "Do I really want to be in this situation?" Sometimes the people you love the most have to disassociate themselves from you so you can feel their absence enough to ask, "Do I really want to be in this situation?"
It finally dawned on him: the slaves in his father's house eat better than him right now.
When you come to yourself, then you can have the journey of getting peace. But here's the thing—for peace to really be inhabited by a believer, you must first have a safe enough mind. You cannot experience peace in your life until your mind is safe enough to heal. Your mind has to change. You have to be renewed in your thinking. Your inner narrative has to change from the inside out if you're ever going to be who God has called you to be and receive the promises God wants you to have. You can't have a pigsty mentality and be a son or daughter in the kingdom of God.
When he came to himself, this level of self-awareness gave him the indication that "I cannot heal amongst hogs." He could come to his senses around them, but he couldn't heal around them. If he was going to get healed, he was going to have to change his environment.
"I can come to my senses around you crazy people, but I can't heal around you crazy people. I'm going to have to change my environment."
I don't know who I'm preaching to today, but God is breaking some of you away from people you thought you were going to be with the rest of your life—only because you cannot heal amongst some hogs.
He came to himself and said, "I can't heal amongst these hogs. I'm going home." And he started rehearsing a speech for his father.
"I know I messed up. I basically looked my daddy in the eye and told him to drop dead. But he gave me the money and I spent it all. He's not going to let me back in the house like I used to be, but I have to apologize."
He was desperate to come home. He didn't care about his status anymore.
"Daddy, I have sinned before heaven and in your presence. I am not worthy to be your son. Make me as one of your slaves. I don't even have to sleep in the bed. Put me in a cot on the floor. Put me in the garage. As long as I'm in your house, I'm safe."
When you're desperate to come home, you'll take anything to get back in that house.
As he was walking down the street toward his father's house, he started to get close. What he didn't know was that his father could see him. The father saw his son from afar off because he had been looking for him. But he never left his house. Because the father has a boundary.
I want you to understand this: "I want to have a relationship with you again, but I'm not going to go hunt for where you went with my money. I want to restore what we had, but I'm not going out there to where you went."
A lot of times we get caught up in the romanticism of the Savior—that He's a good Shepherd who will leave the 99 and go after the one. And that's true. The song is dope, and it's the truth:
"Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God. It chases me down, fights till I'm found, leaves the 99, and I couldn't earn it."
It is the truth that a good Shepherd will leave the 99 to go after the sheep that is lost. But the Shepherd is not chasing the sheep that left.
I hope I can help somebody in this room. Your God has a boundary. When you leave the house willingly and knowingly, you need to understand God is not chasing a rebellious son or a rebellious daughter. We're not talking about somebody who innocently got lost. We're talking about somebody who said, "I know what you want me to do, and I know how you want me to do it. Give me my money. I'm leaving. I want no parts of this anymore."
Yes, His reckless love will go after who is lost. But your God has too much of a boundary to go after who left.
"You know where I live. You left my house. When you come to your senses, you know how to get back to my house. You know what road you went down to leave my house. When you come to yourself and you don't want to smell like hogs anymore, bring your tail right back to the house that you left. I'll leave the light on for you."
"I'm not chasing you. You had all the peace you needed in this house before you left. You left the house and lost your peace. You didn't lose your peace in this house. You lost that peace when you walked out of my house."
I need to tell parents in here: let that child go. You're not dealing with an 11-year-old anymore. That girl is 22 years old. Pray the prayer of protection over that person. Let them go.
I'm trying to tell you something. You can't control a grown child. God's not messing with your free will. If this is what you want to do, go out there and do you. See how good it feels to do you. You think my boundaries and my restrictions are uncomfortable for you? Go out there and spend your money on them. After six months, come and tell me how it felt.
I'm just trying to help somebody find some peace. That's all I'm really trying to do.
