Always Waiting
“And [the Prodigal Son] arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20)
When we read the parable of the Prodigal Son most often - and for good reason - we focus on the one in the story who left. The son who spent a time in sin before returning to his home and repenting. But recently I was re-reading this story and thinking of the father who when he saw his son coming back home ran to greet him. Perhaps he just happened to be outside at that moment. But in my mind there was something much more to this. I imagine a father who tried to talk his son out of taking this journey in the first place. I imagine a father who knew that his son would face many trials if he made this choice. But most of all, I imagine a father who every day after the work was done would sit outside the front door late into the evening looking down that road. Always hoping. Always waiting for his son to come home.
There have been many times when I have mentioned my wanderings and how like the Prodigal Son I had to figure things out the hard way to realize how best to live my life. Similarly to him, I had a moment when I seemed to have nothing - no food, no job, no future - and I realized that both figuratively and literally I needed to go home. I packed up my truck and a trailer and made the long drive west. And like the prodigal son I had parents - whom I’m sure spent many nights shedding tears - looking out from the front porch waiting for me to come back to them. Them welcoming me back into their Utah home was just the beginning. At this time I also began the long walk back to spiritual worthiness. I still remember how happy they were when I started making better choices. And the day when I hugged them in the celestial room of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple is one I will never forget.
I am not the first to mention the parallel as it is both obvious and intentional. Because in addition to the Prodigal Son’s father - and my father and yours - there is another Father. A Father who is also always waiting for those of us who have wandered off the strait and narrow path. I imagine that even though there are so many of us He knows each one of us by name. He also knows why we wandered and what’s holding us back. And most importantly He never gives up hope. He is always looking down on us, cheering us on to make the right choices. And in my mind I imagine that when we do realize that it’s time to return to Him, He too will run to us from a great way off and - with arms extended - pull us into Him. I imagine tears of joy will fall and perhaps nothing will be said, but everything will be understood and forgiven.
This kind of love should inspire anyone - especially those who have made mistakes - that it’s never too late to make that first step. After all…He’s always waiting.
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