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I like the sound of guitar music in my home. I like the "stuff" in my son’s room. I like waking up in the morning to find his friend asleep in our guest room. I like setting an extra place at the table, cooking enough to have leftovers for some of those odd hours students can keep. I am not inconvenienced by filling in as a chauffeur until the need for a vehicle is satisfied – besides, those are times that are reminiscent of earlier days, because I have a captive audience to talk with. I like hearing him talk about himself – his thoughts about life and family and what’s important. He’s been told he looks like a Jewish rabbi, or even Jesus, but I like the rich, full beard. I like the quickness of his response to be helpful, and that he’s never too tired to say, "I love you too, Mom." My son has come back home.
Jesus told the story of the young prodigal. Self-assured and self-centered, he claimed his share of his father’s estate, and sought the wild fantasies of his dreams. He went from wild fantasies though to pigs and squalor, empty pockets and the wretched gnawing of an empty stomach. And he was alone – miserably alone. When Jesus told the story, He said, "The son finally came to his senses." When he did, he traded his self-assurance and his self-centeredness for humility and a homeward direction. He exchanged pigs and squalor for the warmth and comfort of a bed and the refinement of the best robe in his father’s house, a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet. Empty pockets met celebration and the wretched gnawing met feasting. And his aloneness? The love and compassion of a waiting father embraced him, and welcomed him home.
We traditionally and accurately interpret this story as illustrative of the sinner who comes to his senses, and "returns" to the Father whose original creation of man was in the image of the Father – an image that was distorted by sin, and sin effected an alienation from the Father who had created us. But there is a lesson here too for the believing child of God. God does not separate Himself from His believing daughter who gets caught up in her own self-assurance or self-centeredness, but I can certainly crawl into my cocoon of stubbornness, wallow in the imposed consequences of my own choices, and sense that I am very far away from home. Coming to my senses though, God freely allows my heart to turn homeward. Humility is met with the love and compassion of my waiting Father. Misery is replaced with the joy of obedience and the security of my Father’s delight. I’m home – and it’s good to be here.
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