A story about identity, grace, and the kind of love that doesn’t flinch.
A wealthy man had two sons.
One day, the younger son walked in and said,
“I’m done waiting. I want my share of the inheritance now.”
The father, heart quietly breaking, gave it to him.
The son left town with cash in his pocket and a head full of plans.
He lived fast.
Parties. Vacations. Quick wins.
For a while, it worked.
Then it didn’t.
His “friends” vanished with his money.
His crypto tanked.
He ended up sleeping in a car and working the night shift at a gas station.
Broke. Alone.
He finally whispered to himself,
“Even my dad’s hired hands eat better than this.
I’ll go home. I won’t ask to be a son—just let me work.”
So he returned.
But before he could even reach the door,
This father saw him from down the block.
And he ran.
Not walked. Not waited.
Ran.
Wrapped his son in arms.
Tears. Laughter. No questions.
No guilt. No conditions.
“You’re home,” the father said.
“That’s all that matters.”
The older son heard the celebration from the field.
Music. Laughter. Smell of grilled steak.
He refused to go in.
“I’ve stayed here,” he said.
“Done everything right.
And now he gets the party?”
The father looked at him and said,
“You’ve always had everything.
But he was lost.
And now he’s found.
We have to celebrate.”
Questions to Reflect On
- Which son do you relate to more right now: the one who ran away, or the one who stayed angry?
- What “inheritance” have you wasted—or feared you’ve wasted?
- Is there a place in your life where shame has kept you from coming home?
- Have you ever stood outside the celebration, refusing to join because someone else was forgiven too easily?
- What does grace look like in your story?
- And who’s standing at the edge of the road, hoping you’ll return?
Truth is sometimes packaged as rigid, controlling, and closed. To accept a set of beliefs uncritically.
- It says, “Believe this or else.”
- It offers all the answers, demands agreement, and claims sole ownership of what’s right.
- It builds walls, controls behavior, and creates followers.
But real truth, living truth, invites.
It says, “Here’s what I’ve found. What does it stir in you?”
It doesn’t demand answers; it awakens better questions.
It doesn’t try to control you, it helps you remember who you really are.
Let’s seek it together.
Let's honor autonomy.
It doesn’t create followers.
It calls forth image-bearers.