The Loving Father, Part 2 | God’s Rescue Mission

Luke 15:17-24

I invite you to return to Luke 15, as we continue studying the parable of the prodigal son and today we come to the central character in the story, who is the loving father and we’re going to see his remarkable kindness shown to an undeserving prodigal. Second point, starting in verse 20, point number two, the father’s judicious compassion. The father’s judicious compassion. Says in verse 20, “He arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” Really is an absolutely shocking scene. The phrase “still a long way off.” It’s the same word used back in verse 13 the word makros. When he took a journey into a makros country, a faraway country.

The connection here between verse 13 and verse 20, is meant to emphasize distance. The younger son left home so he could live a long way off, great distance, and even though he’s come back, he’s still a long way off. He may be coming geographically, but still, he’s still far away relationally. He’s still estranged from his father, his family, his village. He’s still a long way from humility. Still a long way from true repentance.

So, the father takes the initiative here, he goes out there to get him and he needs to get there right away. The son is not the only one, by the way, mindful of this kezazah ceremony. First, it says, “The father saw him.” And what does that mean if he saw him at a long distance, it means he’s been looking for him, hasn’t he. We can even imagine here, picture the father going out on the porch and as he watched him leave home. His, his tear-filled eyes never turned away from his son as all he sees is his back as he’s leaving and walking away. Until his son’s faint silhouette disappears over the horizon, and you can see him no longer. Ever since his departure, the father is scanning that horizon daily. His aging eyes are aching and straining to see, he’s eager to see his son traveling back home again. And on this day, he finally spots him while he is still a long way off.

Secondly, his father felt compassion for his son. His compassion is what compels the rest of his actions. This is the characteristic of God the Father that we’re supposed to see in spotlight here. How compassionate he is, his love driving everything. The verb for compassion, showing compassion, it, it sounds strange to our ears. It’s splagchnizomai. It’s from the word splagchna and splagchna refers to the inward parts. For the Jews, the guts, the abdomen was the seat of the emotions, that’s where they felt things, that’s where the emotions, the affections were, and that actually makes sense to us, doesn’t it?

We feel our emotions, when you’re negatively emotive, you feel it in your abdomen, positive as well, down in our guts we have a visceral sensation that we notice. When something bad happens, we even say, I was gutted or I was sick about that. Positively, I feel giddy inside or perhaps, I was tickled or, even worse, I was tickled to death. We feel it. The father’s compassion, it’s always there, it’s been there from the very beginning as the son left and now as the son returns home, his compassion is there and his compassion is ignited on seeing his son again. It’s fanned into a flame. It’s compassion that kept his eyes on the horizon and its compassion that in his son’s absence formulated a plan. Knowing exactly what he would do if he saw his son again. If he ever saw his son making his way toward the village, his compassion had already planned exactly what he’s going to do.

Brings us to his third action. It says, “The father ran and embraced him.” It sounds like two separate actions. It is two separate verbs, but one is a participle modifying the verb so literally it’s “having run, he fell upon his neck.” That’s the literal expression. It’s combined in the Greek. It’s spoken of as a single action, running and falling. The word trechō, the father ran, that’s the word that Paul uses for running a race in 1 Corinthians 9:24 and 26. And to win the prize, Paul says there, there’s no Laurel wreath for light jogging or fast walking or wogging or whatever it’s called. This is not leisurely. This is a dead Sprint. It’s like a footrace in the stadium.

So, this is picturing the father running like that, running like he’s running a race in a stadium; only at his age he’s running through the village no less. This is going to get people’s attention. Shocking behavior though for a man not of just of his age, but of his stature.

Years ago, I spent some time in the Middle East and I had occasion now and then to observe some of these Sheikhs, these wealthy Arabs. They’re oil tycoons and they’re dressed in these glistening white thawbs, they’re the long ankle length tunic. They sipped Turkish coffee in hotels and smoked and leisurely kept an eye on oil prices and passed the day watching their, their stock prices and wealth prices increase.

I can tell you I never saw, and I watched them for quite a while, I never saw those men run anywhere. They’re never in a hurry. They never appear anxious about anything. They’re always perfectly composed. They exude this quiet confidence in self-control and poise. It’s very nonwestern. But it’s very refreshing to see older men take seriously the need to show a dignity that benefits their elevated status. That’s the Oriental mind, the trait of propriety of a personal decorum.

Again, Doctor Bailey writes this. He says, “It’s safe to assume the father has not run anywhere for any purpose for 40 years. No villager over the age of 25 ever runs. But now the father races down the road. To do so, he must take the front edge of his robes in his hand like a teenager and when he does this, his legs show in what is considered a humiliating posture.” All of this is painfully shameful for him. But why does he run? Why does he endure this ignominy? This this shame this personal humiliation.

Two reasons, obviously he misses his son, but it’s really that he must get to him quickly before the other villagers do. He knows what’s in store. He knows how quickly excited people, how quickly a mob can form. He knows how quickly they can organize a kezazah. They can rally in the entire village, and they can surround this boy. So, the father has to get there before anybody else does.

So, he sets aside his dignity, he pulls up his robe, he exposes his legs in public as he runs toward his, this is totally disgraceful for a man of his age and stature, but he sprints to get there to his son before they do. It is his compassion that drives him on, it is his compassion that moves those old legs past the point of creaking and into the point of burning pain. On the sight of this older respected man in the community who is shaming himself like this in public, as the villagers are watching, they’re going to go where he’s going. What in the world could cause a man to run like that?

So, they follow him. He’s being followed also by an entourage of his household slaves. They’re trying to keep up with the old man. They’re wondering what’s going on. The village drops whatever they’re doing. All of them are now running after the father.

Now, flip it around and put yourself in the position of the prodigal. You see, this swarm of people coming at you? What are you thinking? Well, it’s over. It is over. The kezazah is next. I’m going to be arrested, be dragged into the public square, interrogated, shamed, humiliated. I’ll be officially banned. He’s traveled a long, long distance at this point, he’s on an empty stomach. He’s got no energy to fight, no energy to run. He’s helpless. He’s at their mercy.

And as they get close enough, now he recognizes something even more terrible, troubling, horrific to him. He sees his father at the head of the pack and he’s running and he’s throwing caution and dignity to the wind. That can only mean one thing, that the father is raging with anger, that he’s infuriated and the son knows he’s about to be dragged into the public square for trial, this kezazah, and he’s going to be dragged by his father. He’s resigned himself. It’s over.

Then the unexpected happens. Something utterly completely startling, astonishing, the father falls on his neck and throws his arms around his son and then this fourth action in the sequence, the father kisses him.

Yes, I know the Arabs and the Middle Easterners, they like to kiss, makes us Westerner people like me, feel quite uncomfortable. But this is not just the Middle Eastern embrace and kiss. The word is strengthened, a strengthened form of the word kiss. So, it means to kiss fervently or kiss affectionately. His father has been waiting. He’s been watching and now the compassion that has energized this sprint, that compelled the embrace of his son, ignoring the dirt and the grime and the smell. He didn’t even notice that he pushes past it, it focuses our attention on a tender demonstration of love and affection, in a kiss.

The son is absolutely bewildered at this point. He fully expected to be dragged by the hair into the public square, prosecuted by the village for the dishonor that he’s shown to his father and to his family and what does he get instead? There’s no mistaking his father, though sorely offended, he shows love, not hate. He hugs him; he doesn’t strike him. He kisses with affection; he doesn’t pummel him with blows of condemnation. He treats him with a mercy that he does not deserve, instead of demanding the justice which he does deserve. What is this?

The prodigal, once he recovers from his shock, he starts to stammer out the speech that he’s rehearsed. He uses the prepared words that he had formed, but notice there’s an alteration in verse 21, reveals a profound change of heart. “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before you I am no longer worthy to be called your son,’” and third thing. Well, that’s it. Right? He drops the last line. There’s no plan anymore. There’s no plan “make me like one of your hired servants.” Seems he prepared that part, it was like an entire lifetime ago, that was prepared actually by another person.

But now in light of the father’s grace, in the face of his father humiliating himself and sacrificing his dignity to intervene on his behalf, in light of his father’s love, in the face of this very public display of affection, how could he speak of earning anything? What does this mean? What are we seeing here? In an instant, in the immediacy of a hidden moment, this prodigal has been changed. This young man’s heart is different and radically, deeply so.

He has been converted by the father’s compassion and love and by his amazing Grace. And now when he uses the word father, for the first time in his life, he knows the depth of the meaning of that term of filial affection. He knows the privilege that’s his to be called a son, and the privilege has nothing to do with money, which is such a trivial thing. The true privilege is the joy of a relationship with the father.

All of his troubles are over, but not because of finances. All the shame is erased, not because he earned it. Everything is changed on the sole singular basis of his father’s love. Now when he says, “I have sinned against heaven and before you,” he can see clearly how he has sinned against heaven, which is a, a veiled way of speaking of God himself. He has. He’s sinned against God, and it’s the God who has condemned all those who dishonor father and mother. He’s sinned against the God who condemns those who treat parents with shame and offense.

Now for the first time he sees, and he’s mortified over it. His disgraceful behavior, his actions that are so starkly in contrast with his father’s obvious love. Now when he says, “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He has no thought here of proposing any kind of superficial fix to pay his way to merit approval.

The son has finally come home. He is at rest now in his father’s loving arms. He is ready to accept whatever his father decides. He’s putting his future in the hands of this incredibly gracious man whom he’s never known. His future, everything from here on, is the privilege of getting to know the father that he had never known before.

And then it goes further than that as we come to a third and final point, number three, the father’s prodigious restoration, the father’s prodigious restoration. You know, a word is related to the word prodigious, it’s the word prodigal. The father here acts like a prodigal in the restoration of his son. In verses 22 to 23 we see a prodigious extravagant restoration of the son, pulling out all the stops. The father says verse 22 to his servants, “bring quickly the best robe, put it on him, put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.” Do it quickly, do it now, and “then bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let us eat and celebrate. For this, my son was dead and is alive again. He was lost and is found.”

They began to celebrate. The son is standing there hearing all this. I mean, he’s just overcoming the shock of the affection in the touch of his father and it’s not a hostile touch, it’s a loving, affectionate touch, a hug, a kiss and he’s baffled. Now he’s basking in the love of his father; his father, who’s taken the initiative. He continues to work proactively to affirm his son and notice he does so in public, before all the gathered villagers, before his own slaves. He says, “This is my beloved son,” I accept him. By affirming his son publicly like this, the father is effectively spoiled the plans of anyone who was thinking about a kezazah ceremony. By his public displays of affection, he has quite literally saved his son. By his public affirmation, he now preserves his son permanently. There will be no casting out. There will be no severing of ties. There will be no cutting off, turning away, throwing pots before him and all the rest. The father has received him, he has forgiven him, and he doesn’t stop there. The father won’t rest until there is full restoration.

He commands all the tokens of sonship be placed on his son, and to be done so immediately without any delay. The best robe, literally it’s the robe, the first one. The first of the long stately robe the father himself wore. He wore it three times a year at the Feast of Israel. This is a robe of honor. It’s one that symbolized the honor of the family. The name of the family, he wore it himself. He says put it on him. The ring on his hand, that refers to the signet ring with the family seal on it. So that means it gives him full authority, legal authority. It gives him the, the power to bind the family contractually. It gave him purchasing authority to use estate resources, to spend treasure. Gone is any thought of the old estate that he wasted and squandered is gone.

The shoes on his feet, literally sandals. Slaves went barefoot in the house. Even house guests who are invited over, they remove sandals upon arrival. But the master of the house and his sons, they wore sandals in the house, distinguishing them for the rest, from the rest of the people. Since the father’s servants are commanded to attend to these things immediately. They hurry off to the house to get those items as the son and his father are making their way, they run ahead and commence getting those items, commence preparations for the feast.

Meanwhile, father and son walking together. They’re going at a leisurely pace. They’re enjoying rich fellowship here. They’re indulging themselves in a conversation they’ve never been able to have before. When the servants return with the robe, the ring, the sandals, the son is outfitted right away according to the father’s wishes. He’s covered in public, according to the father’s command. The servants hurried back home again to get, continue getting ready for the great banquet that the father’s just commanded.

 According to verse 23, beef is on the menu. They will be preparing something even better than USDA certified grade A prime beef. Even better, the word fattened is a situiton from the word siteutos. Siteutos means grain, so this is grain fed and it is a fatted calf. It’s not the full-grown steer. This is grain fed veal.

Slaughtered anywhere from 6 to 8 months. It’s succulent, it’s tender. Perfect meal for a perfect occasion. In addition to butchering preparing the veal for the feast, they’re preparing side dishes as well. They’re uncorking the wine. They’re enlisting musicians, singers, entertainers. They’re sending out invitations to villagers. They’re inviting them to the party as well, and the village will gather, but not for the public shame of the kezazah this time, they will gather to celebrate, not the son, but the father. They are gathering to honor the father to celebrate him for his mercy.

Why this extravagance? Why has the father turned prodigal on us? Prodigal means extravagant, because verse 24, he tells us, something miraculous has happened here. “This, my son, was dead and is alive again. He was lost and he’s found.” It is the father in his compassion, who has put an end to the wandering. Like the lost sheep on his own, the son was as good as dead, like the lost coin fallen through the cracks in a foreign land, the son was gone forever. But now he is alive. He’s brought back from the dead. Now he’s found he’s never to be lost again and it is all because of the father.

Returning to the house, the son’s filthy rags are burned in the fire never to be seen again. The son will be bathed, groomed, readied for the feast. He dons the robe again, slips the ring on his finger, the sandals on his feet, he is now totally restored to the place of a true son. He’s not just a son by blood relation, now he’s a son indeed. He is a son by true conversion; he is a son by genuine affection.

So, they begin to celebrate. Why wouldn’t they? Not celebrating the son per se. Friends of the shepherd didn’t come over to celebrate the sheep. The woman’s friends didn’t come to celebrate the coin and OO and Ah, over its shininess. The celebration is for the shepherd, it’s for the woman, and it is for the father. They are there to show respect. They’re there to show honor to the father. They’re able, they’re there to show and celebrate his saving work. They’re there to glorify him for rescuing his son from certain death, for finding his lost son, for saving him from public shame, and humiliation, and banishment. They’re there to celebrate him restoring the son to full sonship. All of that magnifies the work of the father. Any joy that the villagers have over the son, any joy that the household servants have over the son, they have had to wrestle through and overcome deep feelings of anger and indignation and resentment over the son’s shameful actions.

If they’re going to celebrate with the father, they have to embrace the father’s love as well. They have to see the son through his eyes and not their own. How many of us struggle to do exactly that with other people? Who’ve offended us. Struggling to see them through the father’s eyes and not our own.

When we come back next time, we’re going to meet the older brother because he’s one who’s still struggling to do just that. But what about you, my friend? In light of the father’s amazing love, will you let it drive you to repentance? Will you give yourself up to him in faith and obedience? To worship him as he deserves to be worshipped for the rest of your life. Because that’s what this story demands, doesn’t it? That’s what I’m calling you to do today. For in Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them and he has committed to us the word of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were entreating through us. We beg you on behalf of Christ be reconciled to God.