“The younger son… journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living.” Luke 15:13

 

Letter To My Prodigal

Hear my heart for you, my dear one. Some things must be said. Know that I feel such tenderness for you, just as I did in those early days as I gazed into your eyes when you were an infant, wondering what you were thinking. I want now what I wanted then: to protect you from harm, to feed and nurture you, to watch you mature and live the life you were born to.

But your choice is to be out in the cold, unprotected, unwilling to come back inside the fold of the family that loves you. Your world is dark, for the Light has not been invited in. Put on a heavy coat, because you’re alone and there is no one truly loving to wrap their arms around you. And bring a flashlight. You’re going to need it if you hope to navigate the life you have chosen.

Or perhaps, instead of a flashlight, you need a searchlight—something that allows you to search and find. You’ve lost your way; though I long to show you the way back, you will not allow it.

See, the Way isn’t a program or an agenda, a plan or a resolution—it’s a Person. It’s Jesus. You know this. You’ve heard it your whole life. Did you forget? Are you out of practice of calling on His Name? Have you gone so far that you think you’ll never find the path again? Has He not answered your prayers the way you wanted? Has He done you some wrong? Or do you just not care?

He isn’t glorious to you any more. He isn’t worthy of praise. Maybe you think He isn’t fun, or He is just for the moms and dads, the grandmas and grandpas in this world, the poor old souls who don’t know what they’re missing.

It seems that way for awhile, I know. The world has enticed you, and you have answered its call. You thought it would be good—and it was, for a very little while—but now it holds only emptiness and uncertainty. Pride, and perhaps the fear of disappointing me, or punishment, or retribution, keeps you from coming back.

Yes, in coming back, ice must be broken. Hard conversations must take place. Confrontations await—showdowns, even. The air between us has to be cleared of the smog. The elephant in the room won’t be ignored. But when I see your face at the door, forgiveness will be immediate. Acceptance will be complete. I will wrap my arms around you as tightly as I can, to tell you that I love you, and I’m glad you’re home.

Let me remind you of something you already know. No one—no one!—loves you like Jesus loves you. You can’t do anything to make Him not love you, for He loves you just because you are precious to Him. It will never be too late to come back to Him.

I’m praying for you through my tears. Please come home to me. Please come home to the Father, who loves you more I, your mother, am capable of loving. There is no other way to have life.

“Father, so many of us are hurting because of ans empty chair at the table. We remember joyful togetherness, and feel a deep loss. May we remember that the loss is Yours also, for Your desire is to give abundant life and an eternal inheritance. We pray for these that are missing. Bring them home in Your mercy and grace. We pray in the Name of the One who ever lives to intercede for us. Amen.”