📖 “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
The story of the “prodigal son” is not truly about the son’s failure but the Father’s embrace. The Greek word asōtós describes his wasteful, reckless living. In Hebrew thought, it reflects זול (zalal) — to squander what is precious, to treat lightly what is costly.
Isn’t that often us? Taking God’s gifts yet forgetting His heart. Demanding His blessings but running from His presence.
But the hinge of the story comes in verse 17: “he came to himself.” In Hebrew this mirrors שׁוּב (shuv) — to turn back, to repent, to return. True repentance isn’t just regret; it’s a turning of the heart homeward.
The word prodigal often makes us think only of the son who wandered away, but its true meaning is “recklessly extravagant, lavish, without restraint.” Yes, the younger son was prodigal in his rebellion — wasting his inheritance in reckless living. But hidden in the story is a deeper truth: the father was prodigal too — not in waste, but in love.
And then, the miracle: the father saw him from far off. The word for compassion, רַחֲמִים (rachamim), comes from rechem — womb. It’s a visceral, womb-like mercy, as though the father’s heart birthed new life at the sight of his broken boy. He didn’t wait on the porch. He ran. He clothed him. He placed a ring of authority on his finger and sandals of freedom on his feet. He declared resurrection: “my son was lost (אָבַד avad, perishing) and is found (מָצָא matza, restored).”
When his son returned, ragged and repentant, the father didn’t stand back with folded arms. He ran. In the culture of Jesus’ day, older men didn’t run — it was undignified. Yet love compelled him. He embraced his son, clothed him with honour, and celebrated with a feast. His mercy was extravagant, almost offensive to those who measured worth by performance.
📖 “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 (NKJV)
That is the heart of our Heavenly Father. His love is not calculated or cautious. It is lavish, unrestrained, and overflowing. The son expected servanthood. The father restored sonship.
This is the gospel: the Father runs. Mercy doesn’t wait for you to be perfect, polished, or prepared. Mercy meets you mid-road, dust still on your skin, and kisses you back to life.
And maybe that’s where we often struggle too. We come back to God with our confessions, ready to bargain for scraps of His mercy, when all along He is running toward us with arms wide open.
Reflection:
Where have I been living as though I were merely a servant, forgetting I am a beloved child? 🤔
Am I willing to receive God’s prodigal love without trying to “earn” it? 🤔
Who in my life needs to see not measured grace, but abundant mercy? 🤔
Life Application:
Affirmation:
Beloved, you are not merely forgiven — you are celebrated. God doesn’t just let you back in the house; He throws a feast because you belong.
Creative Prompt:
Write, paint, or collage an image of abundance. Use colours, words, or shapes that feel “too much” — overflowing, spilling beyond the edges. Let it remind you that God’s mercy toward you is not stingy but abundant, not rationed but poured out.
Closing Prayer:
Father, thank You that Your love is more lavish than I can imagine. Forgive me for the times I’ve settled for scraps when You’ve set a feast before me. Help me live each day as Your child, fully restored, fully loved, fully free. Teach me to mirror Your prodigal love to others who are weary and broken. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
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