I’ve always read myself as the prodigal.
That story in Luke 15, we all know it. The prodigal son, though he was loved and provided for and had everything he needed, totally disrespects his father, takes off with his dad’s money, and lives in a way that breaks his dad’s heart.
I’ve always just read the story and seen the ways I do this. Little ways I run away, live for myself. And am reminded again and again that all repentance is, is coming home.
Of course I can see myself as the older son too. That pride that takes offense at the father’s lavish kindness on the undeserving younger son.
But I’ve never really considered what it was like to be the dad.
I guess I’ve always reserved that sacred role for God, and it is a picture of God. But it’s a picture of God to give us an example to follow ourselves.
Sit in the dad’s spot for a minute. What would you feel? You’ve given this boy everything. You’ve provided for him financially, you’ve taught him, you’ve loved him.
And in a sweeping moment of chilling disconnection, this son discounts all that, displays a complete lack of even recognition or respect, takes his dad’s money and his heart and runs off.
And here’s what I’ve never thought about before, yes it’s sad that the boy is off “squandering his property in reckless living” but my guess is what really broke the dad’s heart was that his behavior was completely contrary to everything the dad had taught him.
His behavior gave the middle-finger to the dad.
His behavior was like a direct message–I reject everything you taught me, I care nothing for all that you’ve poured into me, and I will waste and count as worthless what you worked hard so hard to earn.
Wow. I mean I’ve never thought about how hurt the dad must’ve felt. Right? How angry. Wouldn’t you be?
It’s interesting, we don’t know how long the boy was gone. It sounds like it was a long time. Long enough to squander all his property (ie. lose everything) AND for a famine to arise, and for him to eventually end up so hungry he’s eating pig slop.
In other words, God was doing His thing, bringing this boy to the end of himself.
And all this time, the dad patiently waited at home. It must’ve taken everything in him to not go out and search, to not go out and beat some sense into the kid, to not go out and take matters into his own hands.
The dad stayed home and let God do his thing. We know it from our own life stories, don’t we? God has a way of bringing us prodigals home.
And what’s beautiful is that clearly the dad attended to his own heart, because after all that time (years?) he hasn’t let his heart go to anger or resentment, because when the boy finally does return the dad sees and has compassion, and as we all know he ran toward the boy, embraced him, kissed him, and threw him a party. And his words are so telling:
“It is fitting to celebrate and be glad, for [the boy] was dead and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”
The dad had the ability to recognize–during that time the prodigal was living that way, he was dead.
We don’t get mad at dead people.
There’s no use hashing it all out or berating him with a barrage of reminders at all he’d done wrong. The dad knew God had already done what needed to be done.
It had taken years, but the repentance was real so the dad simply says, “Welcome home, Son. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I’m so glad the dad didn’t take offense, didn’t sit in resentment all those years, or conversely–didn’t go out and drag the boy home. The dad knew that real change has to come from a changed heart and the boy had to decide for himself who he was going to be.
He had to walk home on his own two feet.
Now that I think of it I know so many faithful moms, dads, pastors, mentors, spouses, who watch with aching hearts while someone they love does just as the prodigal did. I’m overwhelmed with respect for those who truly walk this out so well. I know a number of you. 🙂
And I love God’s Word that is living and active and always gives us what we need for each day.
Our God, our Father, is so patient. His compassion for us is unfailing. {Thank you for reading.}