The Prodigal Son

In youth group this week, we discussed the story of the Prodigal Son as it relates to shame and guilt in our lives. It was a joy to share this passage with the students, but it was also an intensely valuable reminder to me about the love of God.

The Prodigal Son is a familiar story for most Christians, so familiar it can become less impactful with time. It's easy to forget the emotion underlying words read over until they become habit, second-nature, not fresh encounter. But as I listened to the talk on Sunday night, and as I mulled over the words of the passage, I was caught off guard and encountered this picture of grace in a new and beautiful way.

As we read through the story of the son's departure, pausing to consider the emotions of the father and the son at the parable's key stages, I pondered the nature of the son's hopes on returning home, and how that might shape the quality of his repentance. The obvious hope for the son would be for the father to accept him back fully. But this is not what the son hopes for. Rather, he plans to ask to serve the household. Perhaps this strategy arises from the son's despair--he does not think the father's mercy could ever extend that far. But perhaps, rather, it comes from the son's sense that he does not deserve such mercy--he must atone for his mistakes, accept the consequences. This conviction seems the more responsible reaction. After all, would it be true repentance at all, if the son waltzed back in, expecting forgiveness? The alternative is a natural, legalistic human impulse--an impulse which God will not allow to stand, but perhaps one that is integral to the process of repentance.

But as I was musing over this process of repentance, over the quality of the son's convictions, I was caught off-guard by the actual process of the text. The father does not wait to hear the son's speech to forgive him--he knows nothing of the quality of his son's repentance. And yet the passage says, But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him" (Luke 15.20).

I found this somewhat staggering to think about. What a blessed reminder, though, that our salvation is not based on any of our own merit--not on our works, not even on our emotions. "We love because He first loved us"--not the other way around.  So often, I question the quality of my conviction--whether I really believe, whether I really love God. Certainly, it's good to challenge ourselves to grow in our faith and to love God truly and fully. But sometimes, I think, I cause myself fear and distress and lose sight of the grace of God. The Father runs to embrace us as His children when we come to him. Even when we turn our faces distracted, distressed, dirty, broken in every way, He still runs to embrace us. 

There are so many strands of the web of Christian belief, of faith and practice. It can be difficult to sort out our faith from our action, our good motives and progress from our sins and selfishnesses. But it's so important not to lose sight of the costly, precious, unmerited grace of the Father, who delights when we come to Him.