One of my favorite parables is the prodigal son. I love its depiction of the Father’s love for his wayward child.

Prodigal (adjective): Spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant.

If you’re unfamiliar with the story, here’s the Reader’s Digest version (or you could look it up in Luke 15:11-32). But, there was this man who had 2 sons. The younger son goes to his father and asks for his portion of the inheritance early. His father relinquishes his estate to his son, who promptly runs off and wastes it all. He ends up hiring himself out to a Gentile pig farmer (which, by the way, was not cool for a young Jewish boy to do, like would have been totally repulsive to him, but I digress). He finally realizes that his father’s servants lived better than he was living, decides to go back home to work for his father. (Aside: V. 17 actually says “When he came to his senses). He gets up and goes home, prepared to beg for forgiveness and ready to work. When his father sees him coming down the road, he runs — RUNS (something men of this time did.not.do) — to greet him. The son begs him for forgiveness, but his father refuses to listen. He tells his servants to bring out the best robe, put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet, and to kill the fattened calf to celebrate. The father restored the son’s place in his family, and prepared the best calf to celebrate his return. The story goes on, but that’s the gist.

What an incredible picture of grace. The son takes his inheritance, his gift, and spends it frivolously and wastefully. Upon his return, his father bathes him in forgiveness and restoration, recklessly bestowing grace to cover his sin. The father was watching and waiting for his son to return (“But while he was a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion and ran and embraced him. . .” v.20), no matter what his son had done.

Jesus is the Father, and I am the wayward prodigal. I come to him, demanding to be given “freedom”, and because He loves so deeply and freely, he gives it all to me. I take it, and foolishly run to do with it as I please, not caring what harm I do to myself or to the One who loves me. When, and only when, I am repulsed by the person I have become, do I return, expecting punishment but receiving love.

Jesus takes who I am, and not only restores me to who I was before, but makes me even better than I was before. I stand before him, covered in my sin, and he delights in my presence. Jesus delights in me, celebrates me, and rejoices over me.

Every time.