Good morning, my brothers! This week I discovered something in Jesus' most familiar parable that I had somehow missed for years. It changed the way I see my heavenly Father...and myself. I think you’ll want to see this. Let’s go! 5-minute, 23-second read.

Listen to the audio version here:

I've got a confession.

Even after walking with Christ for years, I still occasionally have to stop and remind myself of the difference between God's grace and God's mercy.

I know that one is receiving what I could never earn. The other is not receiving what I absolutely deserve. But which is which is always my confusion. It’s a mind block, I guess.

This week, while studying Romans 12, I found myself wrestling with those words again.

Paul doesn't tell us to offer ourselves to God because we're afraid of Him. He calls us to surrender because of His mercy.

So I asked the Lord a simple question: “Show me mercy. Let me see it in a way I'll never forget."

Almost immediately, my thoughts were drawn to the last half of Luke 15.

Like many of you, I've heard this parable called The Parable of the Prodigal Son more times than I can count. But this week I became convinced we've probably been calling it by the wrong name.

The story isn't ultimately about a rebellious son.

It's about a waiting Father.

We've All Been to the Far Country

Again, you know the story. The younger son demanded his inheritance. In effect, he told his father, "I'd rather have your possessions than your presence."

He walked away to a far country. And then, over time, he loses everything.

He discovered what every one of us eventually discovers: sin always looks enticing and promises freedom, but eventually leaves us hungry, broken, and alone.

Every one of us knows what that feels like. Our own far country.

Maybe your far country wasn't alcohol, pornography, or another woman.

Maybe you've never abandoned your family or blown your inheritance.

Maybe, from the outside, no one would ever call you a prodigal.

But somewhere along the way, you've lost your way. Work became your identity. Success became your security. Control became your comfort.

Even serving God became something you did for Him instead of enjoying life with Him.

Quietly, almost imperceptibly, your heart wandered farther from the Father than you ever intended.

We've all been there. We've all tried to satisfy a hunger only the Father can fill.

But then, in the parable, Jesus quietly shifts our attention. He doesn't leave our eyes on the son. He wants us to see the Father.

The Father Never Stopped Looking

"While he was still a long way off, his father saw him..."

I've read that sentence dozens of times. I'm sure you have too. But this week, I couldn't get past it.

How do you recognize someone who is still a long way away? Only if you've been looking.

I can almost picture the father walking to the edge of the property every evening. Another sunset. Another empty road. Maybe today. Maybe today my son will come home.

Any of us who have had a wayward child...or spouse...know that feeling.

Then one afternoon...Something catches his eye. A silhouette. The walk is slower than he remembers. The shoulders are bent. The confidence is gone.

His son.

Can you imagine what must have been going through the son's mind in this shame-filled walk?

"Will he even let me on the property?"

"Is there even a chance I can earn my way back?"

"Will he even want to see me?"

Maybe you've asked those same questions of God.

There was a season in my own life when I knew those questions all too well.

After being lovingly confronted by a ministry founder and my mentor, Dr. Bill, about my financial sin—a debt load in a side hustle that almost forced personal bankruptcy in 2010—I was asked to resign as chairman of his ministry board.

Seeing him tearfully confront me and facing my fellow board members was one of the most shame-filled moments in my life. I felt exposed. Broken. Certain I had disappointed God and the men I respected most. I remember wondering if I would ever again be trusted, useful, or worthy of serving Him.

Looking back now, I realize I was viewing God through the same lens of my shame rather than through the heart of my Father. Oh, how wrong I was.

Without hesitation, the father runs.

Think about that. The son hasn't apologized yet. He hasn't proven he's changed. He hasn't earned another chance. He hasn't promised to do better.

None of that comes first.

The father runs anyway.

Why? Because the father's love had never stopped. It never needed to be earned. It could never be broken. His love simply was.

The son probably expected judgment and public shame. The father threw a party. Mercy.

The son prepared to become a servant. The father restored him as a son. Grace.

That is the gospel.

Jesus took the judgment we deserved so we could receive the acceptance we never deserved.

That's mercy. That's grace. That's your Father's heart.

Living from Acceptance, Not for It

Here's what I think many of us miss.

We know God forgives us. We know Jesus died for us. We know we're going to heaven.

But deep down, many Christian men still believe God's love rises and falls with yesterday's performance.

Read your Bible today...God must be pleased.

Miss a week...Maybe He's disappointed.

Win today's battle against temptation...Perhaps He's smiling again.

Lose tomorrow's battle...Back to shame.

Brother, if you've ever thought that way, you've misunderstood your Father.

Religion says, "Clean yourself up, then come."

The Father says, "Come, and I'll make you new."

When we finally understand how deeply we are loved, we stop trying to earn God's approval and begin living from it.

Our obedience changes. Our prayer life changes. Our desire for holiness changes.

We no longer pursue Jesus because we're afraid He'll reject us. We pursue Him because we've discovered we've never stopped being loved.

That's where transformation begins. That's where men become more like Jesus. That's where we become more the man God created us to be.

Come Home

Brother, perhaps the greatest obstacle between you and God isn't your past.

Perhaps it's the belief that you still have to earn what Jesus has already purchased.

The Father isn't waiting for a better version of you.

He isn't waiting until you've conquered every sin, become more disciplined, or finally feel worthy enough to come home.

He's simply waiting for you. His arms are open. His eyes have never left the road. His love has never wavered.

And even now, I believe His voice is calling to every one of us:

“Son, come home.”

Reflection and Action This Week

 -Will

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