A Long Way Off
The most wonderful thing that can happen to any human being is to be loved. It alone speaks to the gnawing sense of insignificance and isolation we feel. And the marvelous news is that we have been loved and we are loved, each and every one of us. Uniquely and individually. At the heart of the universe is love, divine love, personal, intimate God-love for you and for me.
Richard J. Foster
When Jesus wanted to help us understand the relationship between God and us wayward sinners he told a story. Jesus loved to tell stories. He knew what all great storytellers know: a story gives us room to ponder, to consider. Most of us like to hear about truth rather than be smacked with it. A story gives us the emotional and spiritual space to imagine ourselves within the context and thoughtfully contemplate the possibilities.
And so, as Jesus taught his listeners about the nature of God's love...he told them a story.
"There was a man who had two sons."
The name that we have given the story (found in Luke 15), "The Prodigal Son," sells the story short. The brief narrative contains such nuanced detail that it would take a lifetime to digest and comprehend. The parable is the object of some of the most breathtaking works of art ever produced. Among Rembrandt's final works is this masterpiece — The Return of the Prodigal Son:
This is one of the most celebrated moments of the story — the embrace of the Father with the returning son. The very thought of it has moved me to tears and has formed my understanding of God's love.
But there is a phrase in the story that has captured my full attention lately. It has been reshaping my understanding of repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation in profound ways.
First, let's set the context: do you remember why the son returns home? Jesus makes it clear in the 17th verse of Luke's Gospel, chapter 15:
“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!'"
Simply stated: he wanted better food. This is a young man after my own heart. He wasn't convinced of his depravity. He wasn't crying tears of contrition. He took a thoughtful assessment of his circumstances and made a calculated choice: I think I can do better. Now, I won't read too much into this...but, I wonder: why didn't Jesus describe his thoughts as deeply penitent and remorseful? I don't have an answer, but I think it's worth pondering.
So, the son begins his journey home.
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."
"...while he was still a long way off..." This astounds me. Wouldn't the Dad want to be sure the son is properly repentant first? Maybe see some signs of sincere contrition? I mean, from a distance the Dad wouldn't even be able to discern his son's countenance. And, if his son is, in fact, sorry for his wayward ways, any strategic Dad would capitalize on this "teachable moment" and deliver any one of several prepared parental speeches about responsibility and correct moral living, right? Also, it seems like any reasonable Father would want to know precisely how a full 1/3 of his wealth was so quickly squandered. But, apparently, God is anything but reasonable. The Father's reaction is utterly unpredictable and ridiculously extravagant. It defies any rational expectation. It is the overwhelming love of God.
God's love draws me while I am a long way off. God is not waiting to see if I thoroughly understand just how awful I have been. God is not going to use His love as leverage as I learn my lesson. The overwhelming love of the Father swallows up the prodigal son in an instant, and it does the same for me, and you.
Now I have an image of a compassionate Father, waiting on the porch, stretching his neck to see down the long and winding road. This is the transformative love of God. The relentless and unconditional compassion of a Father that has no strings attached. It is the love we were made from, and the love we were made for. It is a love that, once we have experienced it, we can give to others — fully and without reservation. It is a love that we will never fully comprehend.
These days my prayer is the same as the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 3:
May we be given the power to grasp how wide, how long, how deep and how high God's love is. It is the only thing that can soften my hard heart. It is the only love worth receiving, and giving. It is the only love that can redeem, reconcile, and renew. May we be consumed and transformed by this love.