I’m listening to a book by Charles Martin, Long Way Gone, based on the prodigal son parable. It’s such a beautiful story of how the father never stops loving his wayward son no matter far away he goes. I love how he always leaves the front porch light on just in case.

If I’m honest, I can relate to that one sheep that got lost. I can’t say that I’ve ever gone on a weekend drinking bender or snorted up cocaine or done any crazy and wild stuff, but I know what it’s like to feel lost and disconnected. To feel alone.

I love that the Good Shepherd left the 99 to look for me. He was relentless in his search until he found me and brought me back. Those of us who have followed Jesus long enough come to recognize His voice when He calls us by name in our darkness and shame. That’s the voice that gives life and brings healing and leads us home.

Every single one of us have been a prodigal at some point. We’re either the rebellious younger son who strayed or the legalistic older son who stayed. The father in the story loved both the same. He pursued both the same. Both had an open door an a welcome mat.

One turned around and came home. The story on the other has an open ending. We don’t know if the older son joined the party or not. We’re not told if the older son forgave his younger brother. It is interesting that while we’re never given the specifics of what the prodigal son did while he was away, his brother seems to have a pretty good idea what he was up to. Maybe he was projecting a bit.

But still the Father watches and waits. He doesn’t lock the door and turn out the light. He sees his son a long way off and starts running down the road. I don’t know if you know much about ancient culture (and I’m no expert myself), but for an old man to run anywhere in those days was scandalous.

And that’s the kind of love the Father has for all of his prodigal sons and daughters.

“And everybody used to tell me big boys don’t cry 
Well I’ve been around enough to know that that was the lie 
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons 
Well we are children no more, we have sinned and grown old 
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road 
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms
And be growing young” (Rich Mullins).