First Impressions
The son everyone talks about isn't the only one who's lost
Picture a kid packing a bag in the middle of the night. He's not sneaking out for a party — he's leaving for good. He's already asked his dad for his share of the inheritance early, which back then was basically saying, "I wish you were dead already." And his dad said yes. That's where Luke 15 starts, and if you were at church Sunday, you know this story didn't stay locked in ancient history. It landed in the room.
The younger son takes the money and runs. Luke says he "squandered his wealth in wild living." Before long, the money's gone, a famine hits, and the kid who used to have everything is feeding pigs for a living — and getting so hungry he's eyeing their food. For a Jewish audience, you couldn't get lower than that. Pigs were unclean. This son had hit rock bottom in every way a story could show it.
Here's what stood out to a lot of people Sunday: this isn't really a story about one bad decision. It's a story about a direction. The son didn't wake up one day and decide to ruin his life — he took one step away from home, then another, then another, until he looked up and didn't recognize where he was anymore. That's usually how it works for us too. Nobody plans to end up disconnected from God. It happens one small "I've got this" at a time.
What gets me every time I read this is verse 20: "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and ran to meet him." The father wasn't waiting by the door with his arms crossed, rehearsing the speech he was going to give. He was watching the road. He'd probably been watching that road every single day since his son left. And the moment he saw him — not when the son arrived and apologized, not when he'd cleaned up first — the father took off running.
In that culture, a grown man with any dignity did not run. Running was for kids, not for the head of a household. But this father doesn't care what it looks like. He sprints. He doesn't wait for an explanation. He just runs.
That's the picture worth sitting with today. Before you've cleaned anything up. Before you've figured out what to say. Before you feel ready. God is already watching the road for you, and he's already moving.
Maybe Sunday's message stirred something specific in you — a habit, a relationship, a version of yourself you've been hiding. Or maybe it was more of a general feeling, like something in you just knew you'd wandered further than you meant to. Either way, this week isn't about fixing everything today. It's about noticing the road and who's watching it.
Sit with this
- 1When you think about your own life, is there a place — a habit, a relationship, a mindset — that feels like your version of 'the distant country'? What would it look like to just start walking back toward home this week?
Journal prompt
Write about the last time you felt far from God. What led you there, one small step at a time? Don't try to fix it in this entry — just tell the truth about how you got there.