The father ran

Jesus told this story to a crowd of tax collectors and sinners, with religious leaders grumbling at the edges. We usually call it the parable of the prodigal son, but the most shocking person in it is the father.

The younger son asks for his inheritance early. In that culture it was close to saying, I wish you were dead. The father gives it to him anyway. The son journeys to a distant country and squanders it all in wild living.

When famine hits, he ends up feeding pigs, an unthinkable job for a Jewish young man, so hungry he wants their food. Finally he came to his senses. He rehearses a speech: he'll ask to be taken on as a hired servant.

But while he was still in the distance, his father saw him. That means the father had been watching the road. He was filled with compassion. The Greek word, splanchnizomai, comes from the word for the inner organs. It is compassion you feel in your gut.

Then the father ran. Many scholars point out that in that culture a dignified older man did not run; he would have to hitch up his robe to do it, which was shameful. The father took the shame on himself so his son would not face the village alone. He embraced him and kissed him before the speech was even finished.

Then came the best robe, a ring and sandals. The robe meant honor. The ring signaled belonging and authority in the family. Sandals marked him as a son, not a barefoot servant. He came home hoping to be a servant and was restored as a son.

There's a second son. The older brother became angry and refused to go in to the celebration. So the father went out to him too, pleading. Jesus ends the story without telling us whether he went in. He left it open for the Pharisees, and for us. Whether you've run far from God or stayed close and grown bitter, the Father is coming out to meet you.