I had a bit of a pregnancy scare yesterday. I say ‘scare’ because I have two children and only ever planned on having two; if I can’t remember exactly how painful it was giving birth the second time I do remember promising myself never to do it again; and I think we simply don’t have the mental, emotional and physical capacity for another person in the family! As a third child myself I’m grateful that my parents didn’t have the same attitude, but there we are.

So I checked the calendar a fourth time and bustled off to Boots for a pregnancy test, hoping the four-year-old wouldn’t notice and ask awkward questions. The test was negative. Was I relieved? No, I nearly cried. In the space of a morning, the un-asked for third child had become a reluctant possibility, then a potential excitement, and by 11am I’d guessed the gender and even chosen a name, for goodness’ sake. So I had to spend the afternoon grieving for this little person who had never actually existed.

I went to a monthly prayer meeting that evening. We were praying for young people in north London. This feeling of loss welled up again, much to my irritation, but it became something else. As I prayed for people who have no idea of God’s love, it was as if I caught something of God’s feelings for them – the children that could be his, but aren’t. As if he was roaming his own home, counting the empty chairs, yearning for their occupants.

The verse that came forcefully to mind was "O 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 23:36-38

It was the 'longing' bit that hit me - God's longing for his children who have no home, who are missing his warmth and protection and either don't know it or have outright rejected him. Yet he doesn't storm off and drag them home by the scruff of the neck; he invites gently, hopefully, even though the invitation is written in the blood of his own son, and he waits.

I've never prayed so passionately in my life.