So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his father, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The father doesn't wait for the son to arrive. He sees him and runs toward him. He doesn't hold the son at a distance. He embraces him immediately.
The shame the son feels isn't validated by the father's response. The father's joy at his return overrides any need for punishment or distance. It's a stunning image of grace that doesn't wait for penitence to be complete. The father moves toward the son even before the son has finished his prepared speech. I've realized that I often try to be like the son—I want to prove through self-punishment that I'm worthy of restoration. But the father's way is just: my child is back. I'm running to him. We're celebrating.
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