In, "Return of the Prodigal Son," Henri Nouwen writes at one point about those times we all struggle with — when we wonder if God really forgives and really welcomes sinners to come home and be beloved children again?

Nouwen says:

Although claiming my true identity as a child of God, I still live as though the God to whom I am returning demands an explanation. I still think about his love as conditional and about home as a place I am not yet fully sure of... [and] I keep entertaining doubts about whether I will be truly welcome when I get there.

As I look at my spiritual journey... I see how full it is of guilt about the past and worries about the future. I realize my failures and know that I have lost the dignity of my sonship, but I am not yet able to fully believe that where my failings are great, 'grace is always greater.'

Still clinging to my sense of worthlessness, I project for myself a place far below that which belongs to the son. Belief in total, absolute forgiveness does not come readily.

Nouwen is right. Real belief in total, absolute forgiveness does not come easily.

The old lies we've believed about ourselves are hard to forget. We doubt that grace really is always greater than our sin because we've told ourselves (or been told) it's not. We fear that eventually, after another struggle, another stumble, another willful sin, it won't be greater.

We fear we will eventually be found out or left out.

The belief we harbor in all that fear is that somehow, God still needs something from us in order to love, forgive and save us. That's the age-old lie we've believed.

But God doesn't need anything from you. Forgiveness is a gift. Grace is a gift. His love is a gift. And his invitation is to come, bring your nothingness, your unworthiness, your estrangement, shame and embarrassment and come home.

His invitation is to come take the gift he knows you're not worthy of, not to make yourself worthy of it. It’s a call to receive the gift of forgiveness, not pay the bill. That’s what Christ came to do — to pay what you couldn’t pay in order to give you what you couldn’t get.

Though we naturally fear that moment where we realize we’re not worthy of God’s love and forgiveness, that recognition is not the end of His grace. It's actually the beginning. It’s the starting point.

Because it's only then and there — in that recognition of our unworthiness — that our hearts are prepared to receive the love they truly need, the love of a father for his children. A love given, not earned. Received, not purchased. A love that is truly a gift.

But making that change — from seeing love and forgiveness as purchased to knowing it as received; from seeing it as earned to knowing it as given — is the one of hardest and riskiest transitions we'll ever be asked to make. But is the only one that can ever really satisfy us.

It’s worth the risk. Take the risk to live like it’s true.