“But while he was still a long way off,
his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him;
he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.”
“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.
But we had to celebrate and be glad,
because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again;
he was lost and is found.’”
I have been the prodigal son.
I have the heart of the angry brother.
I have needed the love of the Father.
I have received it over and over.
I have walked away from relationship, full with the Father’s possessions.
I have returned starving and tattered, begging for compassion.
I have stayed out of a sense of duty, growing in pride and bitterness.
I have shut doors in the faces of those “undeserving” of my love.
I have misunderstood the spirit of God.
I have tied up a shattered heart with strings of bitterness and malice;
I hoped they’d make it whole.
He has cut the chords that choke.
I have a heart healed, not just repaired.
I was lost, and I am now found.