I've heard the prodigal son story from the angle of the sinful child: he represents the human realizing that he has lived in error and returns to God, the father. I've also heard it from the perspective of the older son: the seasoned Christian who is angered that someone else who had failed so badly is so quickly and easily forgiven.
It's not until recently that I thought of it from the perspective of the father. I had a hard time relating to that role because I thought that was reserved for God; his forgiveness is the only one that can possibly be compared to the level of that in the story.
But for whatever reason, lately I am overwhelmed by the image of the prodigal trudging home and the father running to meet him.
He doesn't stand waiting at the house, knowing the son would arrive eventually. He doesn't catch a glimpse of his son and then go and wait, fuming, for the kid to arrive home so he could give him a lecture. He doesn't sneak out the back, or order his servants to tell the kid that his father "isn't at home."
At the first glimpse of the prodigal son, he runs. The child lost to sin and needing forgiveness - the one he could rightfully choose to be angry with - he is only overjoyed to see. The son who is acknowledging folly, whose every weary foot scuffle whispers "sorry...sorry...sorry..." on the dusty ground.
I can't tell you how many times when my husband has apologized to me that I've raced across our living room, vaulting over the back of the couch in that much of a rush to forgive him and reconcile. I mean, literally, I can't, because it's never happened. And I'll bet its a funny image for us to think of in terms of our relationships in every day life.
But imagine the restoration we could bring about, the life and love we could bring, if when someone asks for our forgiveness
we don't hesitate.
we don't lecture.
we don't hold out for our bruised emotions to wear off.
for the other person to "realize" what they've done.
or maybe
(if we're honest)
to punish them a little by withholding our affection and acceptance for a while.
What if instead we actually erase the past when someone admits a trespass against us? What if we are swift to release blame and celebrate reconciliation? What if the instant we see them returning to us, we meet them at a run?
"...[W]hile he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you...." But the father said... "[T]his son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found." So they began to celebrate." - (Luke 15:20-24)