I didn’t manage to go for a reflective walk today (weekend afternoon naps, anyone?), but I did spend some time reflecting on a passage from Luke’s gospel. Like two weeks ago with Psalm 23, it’s a passage I’ve read more times than I can count. And yet, it always seems to offer something new. Today, what struck me was a point in the middle of the story:
“But while the son 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.”
Some parts of this story would have had a different cultural significance to the original listeners. This part, for example, would have been quite shocking. In that time, dignified men didn’t run. It was completely undignified and even shameful! What if someone had seen? But the father didn’t care what others thought—his love for his child was too overwhelming for social norms to restrain him.
It reminded me of another image, one more familiar today. When parents have small children, they often stand with their arms open, waiting for the child to run to them. There’s a joyfulness in that moment, but the parent stays still. Yet here, we see something different: a respectable, dignified man running with the same uncontainable love we expect from a child. It flips the usual pattern. Instead of waiting, the father moves first.
This raises so many questions: Was he watching every day? Did he neglect everything else while waiting for his son’s return? Or did he set aside an hour or so each day to watch? Maybe he had a servant keeping an eye on the road? There’s no way to know for sure. But what matters is that the moment he saw his son, he ran.
I think this stood out to me today because of what it reveals about God’s love. In most interpretations of the story, the father represents God. And this father is not restrained by social norms or human expectations. He’s not ashamed to welcome his son with open arms, even though the son has treated his family so badly. He is so eager, so joyful at the chance to be reunited, that he doesn’t even wait to hear his son’s carefully practiced apology.
That’s God’s love for us. We may sometimes find ourselves in the shoes of the older son, but sooner or later, we all know what it’s like to be the younger one—wondering if we’ve wandered too far. We think we’ve messed up too much, and maybe we can work our way back into God’s favour. But there’s no reluctance in the father’s actions—no hesitation, no conditions. Likewise with God. The moment we turn toward Him, He is already running toward us with open arms, glad we have chosen to come home.
And while this story is often used as a message of hope for those who have wandered far from faith, there’s something here for all of us in the everyday moments of confession. None of us are perfect. We all need to turn back to God. In my tradition, there’s a moment of confession every week at church. In some traditions, people make confession to a priest or a trusted person. However it happens, confession is part of Christian life.
But how do we view it? A duty to be done? A reminder of our sinfulness? An opportunity to grovel before God? It doesn’t need to be. Picture this story—you know you’ve done wrong, but you turn back to God anyway, and there He is, already running toward you with His arms open. Confession is like stepping into an embrace that is already there.
A friend recently recommended an Ignatian spiritual practice (there are many, I’m no expert!). I was to start my prayer by turning my face to heaven and simply resting in God’s love for me. I struggled. I have always struggled to ‘look’ into the face of God. What if He’s disappointed? What if He’s angry? What if He doesn’t care? (I know that’s not God’s nature, but sometimes that little internal voice of fear gets in the way.)
Then I had a breakthrough moment: What if I looked into the face of God and saw love?
We don’t need to be afraid to turn back to God. Whether it’s a daily confession or a complete change of direction, God is already watching and waiting. The moment we turn, He is already running toward us, arms open, ready to reaffirm our identity as His children.
Take a moment to picture yourself in the story. You’ve just turned toward home. What do you see? Do you see God running toward you? And if you meet His gaze, do you see love?
The Reason for my Hope Blog 