Walking Towards the Father

 

The Prodigal Son – Luke 15:1-3, 11-end

Dear Friends, Jesus is eating with tax collectors and sinners. The Pharisees and scribes are grumbling again: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”

So He tells them three stories in a row—lost sheep, lost coin, lost son. The third one is the longest, the deepest, the one we can’t stop turning over in our hands.

A man has two sons. The younger one says: “Father, give me my share of the inheritance.”

He’s basically saying, “I’d rather you were dead so I could have what’s mine.”

The father divides the property. A few days later the boy gathers everything and leaves for a far country. There he squanders it all in reckless living. When the money’s gone, the friends are gone, a famine hits, and he ends up feeding pigs—pigs, for a Jewish boy—and wishing he could eat their food.

That’s rock bottom.

He comes to himself. He rehearses the speech:

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”

He sets off home.

But while he is still a long way off, his father sees him.

And runs.

Runs.

The dignified landowner, robes flapping, dignity forgotten, runs to meet the son who wished him dead.

Before the boy can finish his speech, the father is on him—arms around him, kisses on his face, shouting for the best robe, the ring, the fattened calf. “Let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”

The older son hears the music and dancing. He’s furious. He won’t go in. The father comes out to him—again, the father leaves the party to find the one who’s missing.

“These many years I have served you… yet you never gave me a young goat…”

The father’s answer is gentle: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”

The story ends there. No resolution. No tidy bow. Just the father’s arms open to both sons—one coming home broken, one standing outside angry—and the question hanging in the air: will they come in?

Jesus doesn’t finish the parable because the Pharisees are still deciding. They’re the older brother—faithful on the outside, furious on the inside. They’ve stayed home, kept the rules, done the work. And now the Father is throwing a party for the ones who blew it all. They can’t stomach it.

But the Father doesn’t shame them. He comes out. He pleads. “All that is mine is yours.” He’s not taking anything away—he’s inviting them into the joy.

We live in both sons.

Sometimes we’re the younger—running, wasting, hitting bottom, coming home with nothing but shame and a half-rehearsed speech.

Sometimes we’re the older—obedient, dutiful, quietly resentful when grace is given to someone who doesn’t “deserve” it.

Both sons are lost. One realises it and comes home. The other stays outside, clutching his own righteousness like a weapon.

The Father runs to the first. He comes out to the second. He never stops loving either one. The party is ready. The door is open. The question is whether we’ll walk through it.

Today, pause. Which son are you today?

The one who’s finally coming home, filthy and afraid?

Or the one standing outside, arms folded, refusing to celebrate because grace feels unfair?

Jesus told this story to people who thought they had God figured out—and to remind them (and us) that the Father’s love isn’t earned by staying home or lost by running away. It’s given. Lavished. Thrown like a robe over filthy shoulders and a ring on empty hands.

The scandal isn’t that the younger son gets welcomed back. The scandal is that the Father wants both sons at the table.

Point to Ponder: The Father’s love doesn’t divide between the deserving and the undeserving. It runs to both. The party isn’t complete until everyone comes in.

Verse to Remember: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20 ESV)

Question to Consider: This week, who is the “younger brother” in your life—someone who’s messed up, come back broken, and you’re tempted to stand outside the party and refuse to celebrate? What would it look like to stop judging the grace they’re receiving and start joining the Father in the joy of it?

Article written by Shaun Fereday, Leader @SFGH Church