Chapter Four: The Prodigal Son

Scripture Focus: Luke 15:11–32

Jesus told the story of a man who had two sons. The younger son asked for his share of the inheritance early—a shocking request that, in essence, said he wished his father were dead. The father granted the request, and the son took off, wasting the fortune on reckless living.

When the money ran out, so did his friends. A famine struck, and the young man found himself feeding pigs—a shameful job for a Jewish man. He was so hungry he considered eating the pigs’ food.

That’s when he came to his senses. He decided to return home, not to reclaim his place as a son, but to ask for a job as a servant.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him. He ran to him, embraced him, and welcomed him home.

He didn’t wait for an apology. He didn’t ask for repayment. He didn’t scold or punish. Instead, he called for the best robe, a ring, sandals, and a feast. “This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

Unconditional love met the boy not with consequences but with celebration.

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Reflection from My Life:

I think we all have moments where we’ve wandered off course—some more public than others. There are times in life where I chased what I thought would satisfy, only to find myself empty. Times when I thought I knew better, only to learn the hard way.

I was a challenging teenager. I had a large ego and thought I knew best in most situations, so my dad and I tended to disagree often. My mother, in many cases, acted as a buffer between us. When she passed away suddenly, tensions escalated quickly. I ultimately left home as soon as I graduated from high school, got a job, and began a life of independence.

Although I didn’t squander an early inheritance, I did immediately feel the isolation from family. The return wasn’t a dramatic realization that I needed support, but a slow realization over many years—after many attempts to fill the void with other things.

Over the years, my father was always there. He never pushed into my life or business, but he was always a steady presence, ready to support without judgment. I feel like I’ve been the slow-burn variety of the prodigal son—taking a long time to learn, despite the constant example my father set.

That kind of patient, unwavering love has quietly shaped my understanding of grace. I didn’t deserve the grace I was given, and that made it even more powerful.

To be received, not as a burden but as a beloved, is a gift that marks you forever.

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Takeaway:

Unconditional love runs toward us while we are still a long way off. It doesn’t demand we clean ourselves up first. It doesn’t tally our failures.

It simply rejoices that we’ve come home.

And maybe, when we’re in the position of the father, we can do the same for someone else. Not make them earn it. Just run to them. Embrace them. And celebrate their return.