He Ran

“He arose, and came to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him, and was moved with compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. (Luke 15:20, WEB)

The son in the story had a speech prepared, a careful confession about being unworthy to be called a son, ready to negotiate his way into a servant's position where at least he would be fed. He had lowered his expectations all the way down to survival, and he rehearsed the lines on the long walk home so he would not lose his nerve. Jesus tells us what the father did while the boy was still far off. While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. The father was watching the road. He had been watching it, clearly, for a long time, or he would not have caught a distant figure and known his own boy by the way he walked.

What undoes me is the running. A father of that age did not run; it was undignified, it meant gathering up his robes and showing his bare legs and abandoning his composure in front of the whole town that had watched this son leave in disgrace. He did it anyway, and he did it while the son still smelled of the pigpen, before a single word of the apology was spoken. The father held him close before the confession was ever out of his mouth.

That is the God you are dealing with when you finally turn toward home after a fall. He is not standing at the door with arms crossed, waiting to hear you grovel and prove you mean it this time. He has been watching the road for you. He sees you coming while you are still a long way off, and he runs. Whatever you were planning to say to earn your way back in, he covers most of it with an embrace before you can finish, because he was never after the speech. He was after you.

Father, I am on the road back again, rehearsing my apology. Thank you that you are already running toward me. I let you reach me before I have made myself presentable.