Below a bare hill, I stand in the middle of a dirt driveway. At the top sits an elaborate house with fantastic fountains, beautiful pools, and smooth marble all over. At the gate, which is made of wrought iron, stands a tall, erect gentleman clothed in the finest fabric there is to buy.
Here I stand at the bottom, draped in rags and caked with mud. My eyes fall to the dirt my brown bare feet are shuffling through. Worry lines drown my forehead while my lips recite a piece of conversation as it plays out in my head.
“Dad,” I lamely choke out in the breeze, “I’ve come home. I know I can’t be your little girl anymore. I’ve brought with me not a penny to your name, rather a large smudge. Please except me as your servant.” My voice breaks as the lump in my throat rises to my mouth. I wonder if I can make it through. I repeat the simple lines over and over again while I fix my eyes on my family’s house as it becomes more prominent by the step.
When I am halfway up, Dad notices me from the gate. He starts sprinting down the dirt road after me and my heart drowns in dread. I look down at my toes again and prepare myself to receive a blow or other sudden outburst of anger. Once He gets close enough, I recite my speech while His arms fold around me in a tight squeeze. I can hardly breathe.
It’s not hate or anger that fill His eyes; it’s love. Tears topple over His eyes and fall upon my head. It becomes too much; I cry too. Moreover, a great sob rises from my toes and gets caught in my chest.
His love is enough for me; His grace is sufficient for my shortcomings.
Love never fails. –1 Corinthians 13:8
The Lord’s compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is His faithfulness. –Lamentations 3:22-24
So he returned to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he rant to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. –Luke 15:20