While He Was Still a Long Way Off

The story Jesus tells is so familiar that we sometimes lose its strange edges.

A man had two sons. The younger came and asked for his share of the inheritance. In Jesus' culture, this was a death-wish. Father, give me what would be mine when you die, only earlier. The father splits the property. The younger packs and leaves for a far country.

The text moves quickly through the squandering. He squandered his property in reckless living. A famine comes. He has no money. He attaches himself to a citizen of that country, who sends him into the fields to feed pigs. For a Jewish boy, pig-feeding is the bottom of the bottom.

And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

-- Luke 15:16

He has reached the end of every plan.

Then comes the line on which the whole parable turns.

But when he came to himself, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father…'

-- Luke 15:17-18

Came to himself. That itself is a kind of grace. Some moment of clarity in the pigsty. A flash of memory: there is bread at the father's table. He rehearses a speech. Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.

He turns toward home. Notice he does not clean up first. He still smells of pigs. He still has the speech. He starts walking.

What happens next breaks the sandals of every culture in the room.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.

-- Luke 15:20

In ancient Near Eastern culture, an aging father would not run. It was undignified, running required pulling up his robe, exposing his legs. He ran anyway. The father had clearly been watching. The text suggests it daily, hourly. Now he sees him on the road, while he was still a long way off, and the dignity is the first thing he leaves behind.

The son begins his speech. He gets through the first part. He never gets to treat me as one of your hired servants. The father interrupts him. Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate.

The cleanup did not come first. The party did.

Some of us have a long internal speech we have been rehearsing. I am sorry. I am unworthy. Treat me as one of your hired servants. Just put me to work. We have rehearsed it so long that we have begun to believe it is the only way home.

Jesus tells the story to interrupt that speech.

The father had been watching the road. He saw the son while he was still a long way off, meaning, before the son had a chance to say a word, the father had already left dignity behind to meet him. The robe and the ring did not wait for the apology to finish. The father rewrote the homecoming.

If you feel too far gone to begin again, too dirty, too late, too many failures in, listen carefully. You do not have to clean up before you turn. The first step toward the Father is the only one he asks of you, and he meets you on the road.

Coming to yourself is itself the first work of grace. The clarity in the pigsty did not start with the son. It met him there. The trip home is shorter than you think, because the Father has been walking toward you the whole time.

You can come back smelling of pigs. You can come back with the wrong speech. You can come back without anything to bring. He will be running.