The God Who Runs

We know the story so well we have stopped being scandalised by it. A younger son demands his inheritance early, effectively wishing his father dead, squanders the lot in a far country, and ends up feeding pigs, so hungry he envies their food. Then he comes to himself, rehearses a speech, and heads home hoping to be taken on as a hired servant. It is a story about a wayward son. But Jesus tells it, in truth, to reveal a Father.

Here is the line that should stop us. "But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). A great way off. Which means the father had been watching the road. And then, he ran. In that culture a dignified older man did not run; it was undignified, humiliating, the sort of thing a person of standing simply did not do. The father did not care. He gathered up his robes and sprinted toward the mess, before the boy could even deliver his careful speech.

Insight: We keep trying to earn our way back to a God who is already running toward us. Grace does not wait at the gate with folded arms. It covers the distance first.

The son had prepared to negotiate his return down to servant status. He never got the chance. The father interrupted him mid-apology, called for the robe, the ring, the sandals, the feast. The boy came home braced for a transaction and walked into a celebration. That is the gospel in miniature, not a bargain struck with a reluctant judge, but a homecoming thrown by a Father who never stopped watching the road.

Whatever far country you have been in, however long, however far off you still feel, understand the direction of the movement. You are not crawling toward a God who has to be persuaded. You are being run toward by a God who saw you coming.

Pray this: Father, I have wasted so much energy trying to earn what You are longing to give freely. Thank You that You run to meet me. I stop rehearsing my speech and let You put the robe around my shoulders. Amen.