 I want to tell you a story about a child. This child grew up in a loving family with a father and a mother. Mornings were filled with curious conversations about the day's coming adventures. Nights were filled with hot chocolate, pillow forts, and late night prayers. It was fall, and the child, only 8 years old, was taken from them. The parents searched for years, and while others had lost hope, they kept looking. The community that once were leading search parties were now just recommending counselors. But the parents didn't give up. It was fall again, and they returned to the spot where it all began. And they couldn't believe their eyes. It was him. It was their son. They walked up to him overflowing with joy, and yet it wasn't reciprocated. They explained the whole story to him, and yet to him, this was not his story. The son that they had never forgotten had forgotten them. You are that son. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to his own, but his own people did not receive him. We didn't recognize our creator. In fact, we rejected him. Yet he had mercy on us in seeking us out and sacrificing Jesus on the cross for our sins. We didn't recognize our own father. It's a heartbreaking cliffhanger. But how will your story end?