Prayer for Illumination:
O Lord, Your word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path.
We come, expecting Your living word to transform us, challenge us, and draw us closer to You. In the name of Jesus, Your Living Word, we pray.
I’m sure some of you know the incredible story of Team Hoyt, Dick and Rick Hoyt.
Though Dick passed away in 2021 and Rick in 2023, their legacy continues to inspire people worldwide.
Rick was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at birth. Doctors advised his parents to institutionalize him, saying he would never be more than a “vegetable.” But his parents refused to accept that verdict.
They saw beyond his disability and believed in his potential. With determination and love, they helped Rick get fitted with a communication device, and soon, it became clear — Rick was intelligent and had dreams of his own.
At 15, Rick asked his dad if they could run in a benefit race together. There was just one problem—Dick wasn’t a runner.
But that didn’t stop him. He trained, pushed himself beyond his limits, and together, they ran.
That first race turned into marathons, Ironman triathlons, and beyond. Every step, every run, was a testament to a father’s unyielding love for his son.
Their journey is a powerful reflection of our journey of faith. Just as Rick depended on his father to run the race, we depend on our Heavenly Father to carry us, guide us, and never give up on us, no matter where we’ve been or what we’ve done.
That brings us to today’s Bible passage, one of the most well-known stories in Scripture — the Parable of the Prodigal Son.
Before we dive into the story itself, let’s take a moment to understand the setting. Luke tells us that tax collectors and so-called “sinners” were gathering around Jesus, eager to listen to Him.
Now, in the eyes of the religious leaders—the Pharisees and teachers of the Law — these were the worst of the worst.
People like prostitutes, criminals, and outcasts — those deemed unworthy of God's grace.
And yet, Jesus welcomes them. He embraces them. He eats with them. He doesn’t shame them; He loves them.
This, of course, infuriates the Pharisees. They grumble and scoff, asking, “How could Jesus associate with such people?”
In response, Jesus tells three parables—about a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. And today, we’re going to focus on the last one—a story that reveals the heart of God in a way that no other parable does.
The story goes like this: A man had two sons. One day, the younger son approached his father with a bold and heartbreaking request: “Give me my share of the inheritance.”
In essence, he was saying, “I can’t wait for you to die. I want my freedom now.”
Imagine the pain this would have caused the father. In that culture, such a request was not only disrespectful—it was deeply shameful.
Yet, instead of rebuking his son, the father grants his request and lets him go.
The son wastes everything in reckless living. Then a famine hits. Broke, alone, and desperate, he finds himself doing the most humiliating job imaginable for a Jewish man — feeding pigs. Starving, he longs to eat the slop he’s giving them.
At his lowest moment, he comes to his senses. He realizes that even his father’s servants have more than he does.
So, he decides to go home, not expecting restoration—just survival. But here’s where the story takes an unexpected turn.
As he nears home, his father sees him. Not by accident or coincidence. The father had been watching, waiting, hoping for his return. And at the first glimpse of his son on the horizon, he runs.
In that culture, dignified men never ran. It was improper. Yet this father doesn’t care about dignity—he cares about his son.
He races toward him, embraces him, kisses him, and before the son can even finish his rehearsed apology, the father welcomes him home.
Many of you have heard this story countless times. Maybe it feels familiar, even mundane.
But today, on this fourth Sunday of Lent, I invite you to hear it with fresh ears.
While we often focus on the prodigal son or his older brother, today, I want us to shift our focus to the father.
Because this parable isn’t just about a rebellious son — the tax collectors and sinners — or a resentful brother — the Pharisees and the teachers of the Law.
It’s about a father whose love defies expectations, whose heart reflects the very heart of God.
When you hear the word father, what picture forms in your mind? Do you think of warmth, strength, protection, and love?
Or does the word bring up something else — maybe distance, disappointment, or even pain?
The truth is, our understanding of God as Father is often shaped by our experiences with our earthly fathers.
If we had a loving, present father, it would be easier to trust in God's love.
But if our father was absent, harsh, or distant, we might struggle to believe that God is any different.
But today’s parable gives us a clearer picture of the Father’s heart.
The first thing we notice about the father in this story is that he allows his son to make his own choices, even when he knows they will lead to heartache.
When the younger son demands his inheritance, the father doesn’t respond with anger or try to change his mind.
He doesn’t plead with him to stay or impose restrictions to keep him from leaving. Instead, with a heavy heart, he lets him go.
That’s the kind of love God has for us. He gives us free will, never forcing our obedience or manipulating our affection.
He desires our love, but He will not coerce it. Yet, even as the son wanders far from home, the father’s love never wavers.
We don’t know exactly how long the son was gone—months, perhaps even years—but one thing is certain: the father never gave up on him. Every day, the father watches, longing for his son’s return.
That’s how God waits for us. Even when we stray, His love never wavers, and His heart never stops yearning for us to come home.
If you’ve ever watched a toddler learning to walk, you know that a loving parent doesn’t carry them everywhere just to prevent a fall. Instead, they stay close, watching, ready to help when needed.
That’s how God is with us. He doesn’t restrain us to keep us from making mistakes. He allows us to explore, to choose, even when it means we might stumble.
And when we do, He is there—not with judgment, but with open arms, ready to lift us up again.
When the younger son returns, he has his speech prepared: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son…” But before he can finish, his father interrupts him.
No interrogation. No demands for explanations. No “I told you so.”
Just open arms, an embrace, and kisses.
As Psalm 103 says: “He does not treat us as our sins deserve… As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”
God’s forgiveness is outrageous. It’s extravagant. There are things He never even brings up again—not because He forgets, but because He chooses to cover them with love.
If you’ve been struggling with guilt, afraid that God is tired of forgiving you, hear this: You don’t have to clean yourself up before coming home. Just come as you are. The Father is already waiting.
The father doesn’t just forgive his son—he restores him.
When the son says, “I am no longer worthy to be called your son,” the father doesn’t argue or correct him with words. Instead, he acts.
He orders three things:
The best robe – a symbol of dignity and forgiveness, covering his son’s shame.
A ring – restoring his authority as a son in the household.
Sandals – a sign that he is not a servant, but a beloved son.
The father is declaring: “You are my child.”
And then—he throws a party! Not just a quiet family gathering, but a full-blown celebration. He invites the entire community, making it clear to everyone: “This is my son. He was lost, but now he’s found. And I am overjoyed.”
Tim Keller, in The Prodigal God, points out that God is prodigal—meaning extravagant, even seemingly wasteful—in His love for us.
The father doesn’t hold back. He kills the fattened calf, serves the best wine, and invites everyone to share in his joy.
Now, imagine this: Can you picture your Heavenly Father celebrating over you? Can you see Him laughing, rejoicing, even dancing because you’ve come home?
Zephaniah 3:17 gives us this incredible image:
"The Lord your God is with you. He will take great delight in you; He will rejoice over you with singing."
From the moment you took your first breath to the day you take your last, God has been pursuing you with His love. And when you turn to Him, He doesn’t just accept you—He delights in you.
Do you remember the story of Team Hoyt—the father who carried his disabled son through marathons and triathlons, determined to help him experience the joy of finishing the race?
That’s a picture of us and our Heavenly Father. Like Rick Hoyt, we are often helpless, unable to lift ourselves up.
Yet God, in His fierce and unwavering love, carries us. He runs the race with us, so that we may finish together.
And this love isn’t just for the younger son—it’s for the older son too.
The older son, though outwardly obedient, was distant in heart. He believed he had to earn his father’s love. He had no room for grace because he had never truly received it for himself.
Yet, the father’s love extended to him just as much as to his wayward brother. "My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours."
Whether you feel like the younger son, needing to return home, or the older son, near but distant in heart, the Father’s arms are open. His love is unstoppable. He is waiting—not with judgment, but with joy.
Whether you come to church out of habit or hunger, whether you've known God all your life or you’re still unsure if He exists—He loves you. Truly. Madly. Deeply.
So, where are you today?
Regardless of where you stand, the Father has more than enough grace for you.
His arms are open.
His heart is longing.
He is waiting—not with condemnation, but with love, ready to celebrate your return.
Friends, this Lent, see God for who He truly is—the Father who runs to you, embraces you, and rejoices over you. Feel the heartbeat of the Father today.
Will you come home?
Let us pray.
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for Your extravagant love, a love that never gives up on us.
You wait for us, You welcome us, and You rejoice over us with singing.
Even when we wander, You are always ready to embrace us—not with condemnation, but with grace.
Lord, help us to trust in Your mercy, to run to You without fear, and to rest in the joy of being Your beloved children.
May we live as those who have been found, reflecting Your love and forgiveness to the world around us. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.