Hound of Heaven...by Jim Krisher

You may have heard of the poet Francis Thompson, who lived in England during second half of 1800’s. Francis was born to a respectable and well-to-do Catholic family, and when he reached manhood he followed in his father’s footsteps and entered medical school, with a bright future ahead of him.

But that bright future never happened. Francis failed his medical examinations three times, became addicted to opium, and ended up a destitute, homeless beggar on the streets of London — a man so ragged in appearance that he wasn’t even allowed into the public library. He was able to pull his life together for a little while, but finally died at age forty-eight of tuberculosis and opium poisoning.

Not someone we would expect to be remembered into twenty-first century and beyond. But Francis is remembered because of his poetry, especially one poem he wrote called "The Hound of Heaven". This poem tells of Francis’ wild and often degrading search for meaning in his life, and his strong awareness that through it all, he was being chased by a God who would not give up on him. "I fled him" Francis tells us,

"I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter."

Yet all the while, he tells us, he heard the footsteps of God behind him, footsteps which he describes as "deliberate" and "majestic", "unhurrying" and "unperturbed" — until finally, in the last verse, Francis stops his running and God, standing now at Francis’ side, says to him "Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, I am He whom thou seekest."

I think "The Hound of Heaven" is treasured by so many believers because it speaks powerfully of our human experience with God. God will not stay comfortably tucked away in some distant heaven. God will not leave us be. God will not ignore us or wait for us to come after Him. No - God comes after us, God is the pursuer and we are the pursued.

And of course the activity of this Hound of Heaven is made most clearly visible in life and ministry of Jesus Christ. We see how in the gospels Jesus was always going out after people, sometimes just butting right into their lives to call them to God. He was not content to sit around in his hometown waiting for seekers after truth. He was not, like other rabbis of his time, dedicated to the service of a particular local community, or anchored at a particular rabbinic school. He was not a leader of his local synagogue, nor would the townspeople hope to find him there available to minister to their needs.

Jesus was a man of the roads, moving from town to town, his little band of men and women disciples following along behind him. As gospels tell us repeatedly, he went about all cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and healing, and inviting people to conversion. (Mt. 9:35, or Mark 6:56, for example) It couldn’t have been easy for him. Indeed, "The Son of Man has no place to lay his head", Jesus once said, describing his life as a traveling preacher. (Mt. 8:20) But He had a mission from his Father, and He was after human hearts.

Jesus went out. Jesus reached out. Jesus moved about, often just showing up in people’s lives at the most unexpected times and places to call them to Himself.

I’m sure it seemed like any other day for Matthew, in his tax booth, busy about his collections - when suddenly Jesus was standing there beckoning him. (Mt. 9:9)

And then there was that woman of Samaria. She was going to draw water as she always did, only on that day she met a preacher who had come all the way from Galilee sitting beside the well as if lying in wait for her. (Jn. 4:1-29) Her life would never be the same.

And of course there were those fishermen — they were working with their nets at the seashore with their father and the hired help when who should stroll up, confident as all get-out, but this construction worker type telling them to follow him. (Mk. 1:16-20)

Jesus went out. Jesus reached out. Jesus moved about - and He still does. He’s not a prisoner of the tabernacle or church sanctuary waiting for people to come to him. No, he comes after us, He is with us, often manifesting his Presence at the most unexpected times and places to call us to Himself.

Like the man I knew who heard voice of Jesus just seconds before he would have pulled trigger on the gun he was already holding to his head. That man went on to find freedom from alcoholism, and served the Lord faithfully until the day he died.

And then there’s the young woman atheist I knew who suddenly experienced Christ’s Presence surrounding her as she sat studying in a university library. She’s now a nuclear physicist, and an Episcopalian priest.

Over this past year, as part of my work here at the Spiritual Renewal Center, I’ve been ministering in four different prisons here in central New York, and I’ve been moved by the stories of inmates who, like Francis Thompson, finally surrendered to the Hound of Heaven. I know, it’s easy to be skeptical of what some call "jail house religion" — but I have no doubt, when I see the tears of joy filling these tough guy’s eyes, that their experiences of conversion are real. As one inmate said to me on a recent visit, "I never would have believed that Jesus would finally get to me here, of all places."

But prisoners and sinners are really his top priority — for Jesus is very clear that He comes to call, not the righteous, but sinners. (Mk. 2:17) And unless I’m mistaken, that does in fact include every one of us, no less than the inmates at any prison.

You are the focus of Jesus’ interest and attention. He is after your heart, and he’s after mine too, and He won’t be pushed away no matter how hard we may try to do it. He won’t ever give up on us! As Thompson writes, "Nigh and nigh draws the chase, with unperturbed pace, deliberate speed, majestic instancy..." Why ever would we try to get away from this hound of heaven who loves us so? Only our surrender will bring us peace. Only our surrender will end the chase.