Yup, I learned another new word: Consanguinity (from Latin for “blood relation”) – From the same kinship/ancestry as another person.  The legal system uses consanguinity charts to ascertain whether Bonnie Jean is a distant enough cousin from Billy Bob to… well, you know.

Yesterday we spent some quality time with some quality people.  While we don’t have consanguinity (at least within written history), we’re brothers and sisters in Christ.  Plus, I submit that for most intents and purposes, we comprise a third category:  to an extent, we’ve adopted each other.  We don’t look alike, but we feel kindred.  Years of absence didn’t break the original bond.  It’s a surrealistic cognitive connection that can only be explained in a word:  love.

This is a snapshot of the Gospel:  after a long period of semi-prodigality, we reconciled a few years back.  In the ensuing months, these dear friends—who by rights could have dusted their shoes of us—included us in a special celebration: the fatted calf, and home-baked strawberry shortcake for dessert.

On the drive home, David and I were each of us privately regaling the laughs, the moments, the happy tears—each of us observing a breathtaking sunset, and silently praising God for such unexpected gifts.

What were we thinking all those years?  We missed so much:  Growing up.  Encouragement.  Fellowship.  Affinity.  Fun.  Meanwhile, the people and places we invested in over those intervening decades proved to be exactly that: intervening.

Sure, these friends aren’t blood kin.  But it sure feels like consanguinity.  How amazing is our God: to give us such a graphic picture of his stalwart faithfulness.  Oh Lord my God… How great Thou art!

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