The Prodigal Son
Last Sunday our Pastor began a three part sermon series on the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I thought I would follow her lead.
As our Pastor starting talking about the love of the father upon the return of the son I could not help but think about my return home after 25 months in prison.
My father had gone to Heaven several years prior to my incarceration which left my mother to clean up the remnants of my sin by herself. She never gave up on her faith. She never gave up on me. She loved both too much.
It was a warm day in July. I can still picture my sister’s car pulling up to the drive and seeing my mom get out. It had been over two years since I had seen her. My heart skipped a beat. As a matter of fact, as I am writing this post I have a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes recalling the wonderful reunion.
I met her halfway up the drive and we hugged. I tried to apologize but just like the father in the story she did not want to hear any of it. The important thing was I was home. I know now God is the same way. It is not what brought us to Him it is that we are back.
Instead of a fattened calf we feasted on her homemade fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and Christmas cookies for desert. How appropriate mom brought Christmas cookies for it was Christ who kept us together. It was Christ who brought me back home.
Is there anything better than a mother’s love? Not here on earth at least. I am so thankful for the reunion with my mother and for a glimpse of how our Heavenly father feels when we return home.
