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The Prodigal Father

July 18, 2017

The story of the prodigal broke me today. Of course, the wild disgusting son came back to his senses, but among others, his simple and sincere change moved me. It was absolutely fair and just that he not expect to return as a son of the home but as a mere servant (he was more just to not even seek to be a man-servant within the household, but as a mere hired hand occasionally employed from outside). And so he straggled along from the far away country (where he’d been reduced to beggary) back to where his lot could improve if only he could find some mercy with his father.

But what he came to was a wholly different story!! For while he was still far away, in beggarly attire, the father recognized him (which means he was always on the lookout for his lost son, clinging to wispy hope to bring him back someday, somehow. No wonder he found him while still far away!). The father ran to the son, hugged him, kissed him, wept over him, escorted him back home. He ordered his servants to help tidy up the son, dress him up in the robe befitting the noble household, the ring of an heir besides. If all this wasn’t enough he commanded that the fattened calf be prepared amid singing and dancing, for his own beloved son who’d been lost had been found, one who’d been dead had come back to life.

What a prodigal, extravagant, wasteful, lavish, generous, loving, passionate Father! Despite all the blunders, the prodigal younger son got a tight hold over the depths of his father’s love, which the elder son still seemed to miss.

Nothing is more heart-breaking than the love of the Prodigal Father!

From → observation

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