Red Letters – Ring and a Robe: Parable of the Loving Father – April 26

RED LETTERS
April 26, 2021

Ring and a Robe: Parable of the Loving Father
(‘It emphasizes the graciousness of the father more than
the sinfulness of the son.’ Warren W Wiersbe)

Luke 15:20-21, ‘”So the son set off for home. From a long distance away, his father saw him coming, dressed as a beggar, and great compassion swelled up in his heart for his son who was returning home. The father raced out to meet him, swept him up in his arms, hugged him dearly, and kissed him over and over again with tender love. Then the son said, ‘Father, I was wrong. I have sinned against you. I could never deserve to be called your son. Just let me be…’ The father interrupted and said, ‘Son! You are home now!”’ (TPT)

He tried really hard to remember what had gotten into him. What had been the occasion that prompted him to demand his share of the family inheritance. For the life of him, he could no longer recall in hindsight what had seemed brilliant at the time. ‘Course that was many moons ago, and boatloads of money wasted and too many lessons to remember now, he thought with his head hung low.
Boy, had it been a party. Just one long string of drunken wildness and seductive lewdness. The music had been loud, the booze flowed like fountains, the women free and easy, the drugs hazy and magical; the party endless and the friends even more endless. He held his head in his hands. Where were they all now? Now that he needed them, where were they? The money had evaporated and the fountains dried up, the beat of the music had ceased and the friends were on down the block to the next hangover who had dollars dripping through an open fist. How stupid was he?! In truth, he could see it now for what it had been: endless treachery, debauchery, sorcery; a high that would never again be higher than the highest low. What he wouldn’t give for just one more bump and beat, sip and swag. He tried to clear his head, but the months, they took a toll. He had wasted it all on this recklessness.
Now here he was, trying to make an honest dollar but it didn’t stretch very far. All they paid these days was a bowl of slop; the times, they are desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures. He wished he could lay right down next to the swine and slip into nothingness. Home seemed so far away; a better day had been and he hadn’t even known it, out here chasing clouds and greener grass. The memories of his father had faded the more lascivious the living had become; now he could hardly conjure up an image. The contour of his father’s face flashed before his eyes the day that he demanded his take of the spread and had walked away. He couldn’t bear now to recall the sadness in his eyes nor the sound of his voice as his father warned, ‘Be careful out there, son. Good-bye.’
Like an epiphany, the fantasy swirled in his head. ‘There are people working for my father whom he takes care of! I should return to him and ask him for a job. I will tell him I am sorry and request a second chance to make up to him the harm I caused. I must go straight away.’ And with a newfound energy, he began the long trek home.
After days of traveling, when it seemed the journey couldn’t become any more difficult, with his hunger and his hurt and pride dragging him along the dirt road, he saw the homestead in the distance. He looked a filthy mess in his torn clothes and homeless heart. Wow! It hadn’t taken this long to get where he had been, his thoughts chided him. Idiot, he berated himself. He could barely make out the fields surrounding his father’s land, as he cupped his hand over his eyes, looking into the distance. What was that? he paused; a glimpse of someone coming towards him at a jog.
As the figure grew closer, tears on the boy’s face ran steadier. He was almost sure. When he was just a ways off, he became certain, as his father sprinted the last little bit, dust from the road kicking up a cloud of anxiety and remorse. What if his father sent him away? Kicked him out? Didn’t know his name?
But, skidding to a halt, his father suddenly faced him. His father threw his arms around him, tears making mud on his face. ‘I have been waiting for you, watching for you, son! What took so long?’ His father held him away at arm’s length, memorizing every detail again of the boy’s face. He opened his mouth with the rehearsed speech on his tongue, ashamed of the way he looked, how fragile his voice was. ‘Father, I have hurt you. I have wronged you. I am…’
But instead, ‘Shhhh.’ His father sighed. Then removing his robe, he wrapped it around the thin frame of his son and placed the family ring on his finger. Pulling him into a tight embrace, the father cried, ‘My son, you were lost and now you are found! You were dead and now you are alive! Come on! let’s go home!’

I’ve been reading RED LETTERS all my life, but never with my heart.
During the month of April, let’s JOURNEY where JESUS journeyed,
and listen with our hearts to all He came to proclaim.