The Prodigal Son, part two: the running father

The son walks home rehearsing his speech. He is hoping for a servant's job. What happens instead is the most stunning picture of God in all of Jesus' teaching.

But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

While he was still far off, his father saw him. You only see someone far off if you are watching the road. The father has been scanning the horizon the whole time.

And then he runs. Wealthy patriarchs in that world did not run; it was beneath their dignity. This father hikes up his robes and sprints, because dignity means nothing next to a returning child.

The son starts his speech, and the father talks over him. He never gets to the part about being a hired hand. The father is already shouting for the best robe, a ring for his finger, sandals for his feet, every one of them a symbol of full sonship restored, and a feast: this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.

This is Jesus' answer to the question, what is God actually like when someone turns around? Not a judge with crossed arms waiting for the full apology. A father off the porch and running, who interrupts your confession with an embrace.

There is a second son in the story: the older brother, who stayed and worked and is now furious about the party. His complaint gives him away: all these years I have slaved for you. He thought he was earning wages, not living as a son. The father's answer is gentle: you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. Grace offends people who are keeping score.

Many of us are more comfortable with guilt than with grace. Guilt feels earned. Grace has to be received with empty hands, and that is its own kind of surrender.

Tomorrow: a man bleeding on the roadside, and the last person on earth who should have stopped.