I keep thinking about how Aaron Bryant described the father in the prodigal son parable. Especially about how radical his expression of love for his son was.

The son had his return speech down-pat. He would be a servant and work his way back into his father’s good graces. At least this way, he would have three square meals and a roof over his head. Better than that pig slop and pig sty he came from. Literally.

What did the son see? Did he see his father standing far off with his arms crossed and a look of disappointment or anger or shame? Did he see his father turn his back away to not see him coming down the road?

No.

He saw his father take off running down the road, tears streaming, and practically tackle him in the biggest bear hug ever in human history.

From a cultural standpoint, there are several things wrong. First of all, grown men didn’t run back then. At least not respectable ones. Second, the right thing to do would be to disown the son and have a funeral and consider him dead.

I think the definition of prodigal fits the father more than the son. It’s lavish, excessive, extravagant, and almost wasteful. That describes perfectly this love the father had for his wayward son.

That’s the kind of love the Father has for us. A love that caused Him to take on the lowly flesh of a slave and take that long, arduous, painful march to the Cross to die a humiliating and criminal death for you and me.

It’s Wednesday. You’re halfway through another week, looking forward to another weekend that will probably be over all too soon with another Monday right behind.

Remember that you are greatly blessed, highly favored, and (best of all) deeply loved. Your Abba is still very much fond of you and always will be.

May that be what carries you through Thursday and into the weekend and beyond.