Come home.
As I've been reading my Bible lately, I've been noticing and experiencing a repeated invitation from God.
He whispers,
"Come home.
Return to me.
Come home.
Out of the wilderness.
Into the promise.
Out of the darkness.
Into the Light.
Out of exile.
Into my presence."
God calls us out to draw us in.
Tale as old as time.
Luke chapter 15 presents a famous homecoming story.
We refer to it as the story of "The Prodigal Son."
"Prodigal" is defined as "a person who spends recklessly, lavishly, extravagantly" (Oxford Languages). It is not a term of pride or endearment.
Yet, this story is endearing. And heart-breaking. And redeeming.
In this story narrated by Jesus, there was a dad who had two sons. The younger son asked for his inheritance early. He left to find his way in the world and ended up finding trouble instead.
The money ran out. He got hungry.
He had a great-awakening in a pigpen.
He realized the servants in his father's house were better off than he was.
So he thought, "I'll go back to my father. But... I've messed up my chance to be a son. I'll settle for being a servant."
He arose. He got up out of the muck. He made the journey back.
AND...
Before he even hit the driveway, his dad spotted him. In compassion, Dad ran and
greeted him warmly with a hug and a kiss.
The son struggled to accept this response. It was unexpected. He said, "Dad, I messed up. I
sinned against you and God. I don't deserve to be your son."
AND...
His dad responded by telling the servants to bring a ring, THE BEST robe, and shoes for him. Then they were to kill the choicest cow and prepare a celebratory feast.
Why?
Dad said, "My son was dead, but now lives. He was lost, but now he's found."
So, they started celebrating!
PAUSE THE STORY!
Wow.
So much beauty. Truth. Grace. Wisdom. Love.
Here are some things I notice:
When the younger son wanted to go, the dad let him go. It may have broken his heart, but he let him go. He knew his son had his own journey to take. He trusted he would remember the way home. He determined to wait and watch for his return.
The son's hunger is what led to his awakening. The son's pigpen is what prompted his return. God bless the hunger! God bless the pigpen! Our hunger and messy moments lead us back to the Father.
His dad's "heart condition" is what prompted his loving response. What was his "heart condition?" COMPASSION! Compassion led to action. Compassion prompted the father to nullify his son's abandonment of sonship. Compassion prompted celebration.
His dad changes his name. He's not the "dead son" anymore. He's the "living son." He's not the "lost son." He's the "found son." He's not really a "Prodigal." He's kind of an "Ex-prodigal."
The story could end there, but there's a bit more to uncover. We haven't heard from the other son yet.
Enter older brother.
"Mr. Always Do What's Right."
It seems all of the previous events happened while he was out working the field. He hears the celebration and asks a servant what's up.
The servant fills him in.
His first response?
Anger.
Rather than joining the celebration, he isolates.
Dad comes to check in.
He launches into a comparison, bitterness, and insecurity speech.
"I've been working hard. I've been making all the right choices. You never even gave me a GOAT to celebrate with my friends. In comes YOUR son who spent YOUR money on reckless living. And what do you do? You kill the fatted calf for HIM. UGHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The father responds with a soft answer.
"Buddy, we've been in this together this whole time. Everything I have is yours. It was only right to celebrate. YOUR brother was dead, but now lives. YOUR brother was lost, but now he's found."
END SCENE.
Guys, this is LITERALLY where it ends.
We don't get to hear the older brother's response.
We don't get to see the two brothers reconcile.
We don't get to see the younger brother rebuild his life.
All we are left with is the name change. The status change.
Dead to living.
Lost to found.
A son came home. They celebrated.
The rest doesn't seem to matter.
There are some people I long to see come home.
I can't promise a ring, a robe, and a fatted calf when they do.
All I've got is a plate of cookies, a warm hug, and a determination to be more like my Father.
I'll make the conscious decision not to call them by what they've done or where they've been, but by who they are.
MY brother. HIS son. Alive. Found.
Painting: Prodigal Son by Wayne Pascall
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