Finding Home

It was getting late.

My wife, Trace, and another real estate agent were finishing a home showing when they heard a bark from the backyard. Not a discernibly friendly or aggressive bark — a lonely one. The kind that’s half-hope, half-desperation.

The yard was too dark to see clearly, so they approached slowly, listening for growls and watching for movement. Then they spotted a tail wagging and body trembling. That’s when the sensor light came on.

What stood there looked more like a matted mop than a dog. Fur twisted into knots, hiding who knows how many ticks and fleas. His eyes were nearly sealed shut beneath the weight of neglect.

They called the listing agent and learned the heartbreaking truth: the dog had been left behind — a casualty of a broken marriage. Every few days someone dropped food in the yard, but that was it. No care. No companionship. No connection.

A name lost in the mess. A home lost in the chaos.

So Trace asked if they could take him. Everyone agreed. And that forgotten creature came to our home.

Once inside our house, we still couldn’t tell what kind of dog he was. His condition hid every clue of his design. The next morning, we brought him straight to a groomer, praying the story beneath the mats wasn’t hiding an even worse story.

Nine hours later, the groomer called: “He’s ready.”

When we walked in, we froze.

Standing before us — regal, restored, almost glowing — was a beautiful collie. The transformation was so complete, it felt like meeting someone resurrected. All he needed was someone willing to see past the mess to the masterpiece. 

We named him Laddie—after the collie from the old TV show, Lassie Come Home. It felt prophetic, perfectly punctuating the moment when this lost collie found his way to a new home.

While he was being groomed, a woman stopped by in a divine appointment — grieving the recent loss of her own collie. She asked about him. The groomer shared the story. The woman asked if she could adopt him.

In God’s poetic irony, the woman who wanted him managed a pet cemetery. Laddie, thankfully, was there to start his new life, not end it—to live above ground, not below it.  

And just like that…

The abandoned became adored.

The lost found home 

From abandonment to adoption.

From near-death neglect to life-giving love.

From no identity… to beloved.

This is the Gospel wrapped in fur and four legs.

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This Christmas season, God is positioning us for divine appointments—to help people find their way home.

There are people all around us — battered by life, forgotten by others, covered in the “matting” of shame, sin, divorce, loss, or circumstances beyond their choosing — who are waiting for someone to see them.

Waiting for someone to help them find home.

Jesus did it first.

He left His home in heaven to help us find ours in the Father.

“For I have come down from heaven… to seek and to save the lost.” — John 6:38; Luke 19:10

Now He invites us into that mission.

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How we carry the heart of Christmas—helping people come home to the Father through the Son.

• Be a Good Samaritan in a Season of Need

Christmas isn’t just about celebrating Jesus’ birth — it’s about embodying His compassion. People are bruised, battered, overlooked, and abandoned in ways we don’t always see at first glance.

Like Trace did with that forgotten collie, sometimes the holiest thing we can do is step toward the hurting, see what others overlooked, and offer a path home.

“When he saw him, he took pity on him… and took care of him.” — Luke 10:33–34

Compassion and service are the doorway to someone’s homecoming.

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• Call People Back to Their True Identity

  
  

Some are so tangled in the labels life has thrown on them that they can’t see the God-design underneath. Shame, fear, failure, divorce, addiction — these aren’t identities. They’re just mats waiting for grace to cut them loose.

Just like the groomer uncovered Laddie’s real beauty, we can speak words that lift shame, brush away lies, and reveal the masterpiece God always intended.

And we can speak new names over people — reminding them that they are children of the King, chosen, known, and deeply loved by the Father.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” — 1 John 3:1

As we speak the Father’s love, we restore identity — reminding people of the name heaven already gave them and awakening the truth of who they are in Him.

• Help the Lost Find Their Way Back to the Father’s Heart

  
  

The prodigals aren’t just “out there.” They’re in our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our stores, our extended families. Christmas is heaven’s reminder that the Father is still waiting to run to them.

We join that pursuit by praying for people, reaching out with kindness, and stepping toward them with the same heart of compassion Trace showed with Laddie. Sometimes a simple conversation, a shared meal, or a Spirit-led nudge becomes the doorway that whispers, “You’re not forgotten. Come home.”

“While he was still a long way off, his father saw him… ran to his son… and kissed him.” — Luke 15:20

The Father’s home is the Father’s heart. 

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• Be God’s Agents of Reconciliation, Restoration & Redemption

This season celebrates the moment God stepped into our broken world to redeem it. Now we carry that same assignment: to reconcile relationships, restore hope, and introduce broken people to the Redeemer.

A friend recently shared that his estranged son had just accepted Jesus. All those years of pursuit, prayers, patience, and speaking God’s promises finally blossomed into joyful, redemptive fruit.

“God… gave us the ministry of reconciliation.” — 2 Corinthians 5:18

Redemption is heaven’s mission — and our co-mission.

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This Christmas, may God open our eyes to the abandoned hearts around us.

May we step toward the hurting with courage and compassion.

May we brush away the lies to reveal true identity.

May we join the Father in calling prodigals home.

May we step into divine appointments as carriers of redemption and hope.

Because beneath the mats and the mess, people are beautifully and wonderfully made—created in the image of God. 

And the Good Shepherd is already waiting to restore them.