INTRODUCTION
Have you ever been lost? Not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, or relationally? That moment when you realize you’ve gone too far, said too much, or stayed away too long? Perhaps it began with a small step away, a slight compromise, a justified decision. And before you knew it, you were in a place you never thought you’d be, wondering if it’s even possible to get back.
In Luke 15, Jesus tells a story that meets us right where we are. It’s not just a tale about a rebellious son. It’s about us. Here is the amazing reality of the prodigal son: somewhere on our timeline, this story unfolds. This story is about all of us. And it’s about God.
This story, often called “The Prodigal Son,” could just as easily be titled “The Faithful Father” or “The Road Home.” Because at its core, it’s not just about what the son did wrong. It’s about the kind of Father who welcomes him back. Jesus tells this story to a mixed crowd, comprising some who were very religious and others who were considered outcasts. He’s trying to make one point: no matter how far you’ve gone, there is a way back. And the way back is paved not with guilt or shame, but with grace.
But let’s be honest. Coming home is hard. It means admitting we were wrong. It means facing people we hurt. It means owning the brokenness. For some, pride keeps us away. For others, shame. Still, for many leaders and believers, the deeper struggle isn’t just returning. It’s believing the Father still wants us.
The younger son in the story rehearses his apology. He doesn’t expect restoration. He just hopes for survival. “Make me like one of your hired servants,” he says. That’s how many of us approach God when we’ve blown it: hoping He’ll let us back in the door, even if it’s just sneaking us in the servants' entrance to sit in the back unrecognized.
But the Father runs.
He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t lecture. He doesn’t demand repayment. He runs, embraces, and restores. That’s the gospel. That’s what Jesus wants us to see: the Father isn’t watching to catch us in our mistakes. He’s watching to welcome us home.
If you think this story is just about one son, you’ve missed half of it. Because the older brother, the rule-follower and the faithful one, is just as lost. He’s home, but his heart is far away. He doesn’t understand grace. He’s angry that forgiveness is free. And that, too, is something we have to wrestle with. Whether you’ve been far from God or close to His house your whole life, you can still be missing the heart of the Father.
So today, we’re not just exploring a parable. We’re walking down a road. The road of repentance. The road of grace. The road of returning. The road home. The road Jesus stands on and says, Follow me.
Luke 15:11–32 ESV
And he said, “There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.
“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.” ’ And 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. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
“Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’ ”
SCRIPTURAL ANALYSIS
VERSES 11-16
This opening frames the parable within the tradition of Old Testament stories featuring two sons, such as Cain and Abel or Esau and Jacob. Listeners would expect conflict, and Jesus sets the stage with a deceptively simple introduction. By recognizing two sons, the parable signals that both will be significant, not just the prodigal. In ancient Jewish culture, requesting an inheritance before the father’s death was equivalent to wishing him dead. This was a profound dishonor. The father’s decision to comply without protest or punishment is shocking. It signals that this is not a typical earthly father, but one who models divine grace.
The son's journey to a "distant country" represents more than geography. It’s a moral and spiritual exile. He liquidates his inheritance, likely by selling family land, which is a further insult in an honor-shame culture. “Wild living” is intentionally vague, emphasizing self-indulgence, self-centeredness, and recklessness.
The famine symbolizes the natural consequence of sin: scarcity and desperation. Feeding pigs was unthinkable for a Jewish man, as pigs were unclean. His situation reflects total humiliation. “No one gave him anything” is a stark contrast to the generosity he once knew. He is not just physically hungry, but spiritually bankrupt.
VERSES 17-21
This is the turning point. The phrase “came to his senses” indicates a shift in perspective, beginning with self-awareness and leading to a change of heart and repentance. He remembers the goodness of his father, not just discipline or expectations, but generosity. He rehearses a confession rooted in humility. The mention of “heaven” acknowledges that his offense is ultimately against God. Yet he misunderstands grace, hoping only to work his way back into favor.
The father’s watchfulness implies he’s been scanning the horizon. Compassion, not condemnation, drives him to run, which is something no dignified Middle Eastern patriarch would do. This breaks cultural norms to emphasize the outrageous mercy of God. The prodigal son begins his prepared speech, but he never gets to finish. Grace interrupts. The confession is heard, but not used to qualify his return. The father has already decided.
VERSES 22-24
Each item is symbolic: the robe signifies restored honor, the ring restored authority, and the sandals restored freedom. The celebration shows heaven’s joy over repentance. The son is not a servant. He’s a son, fully reinstated.
VERSES 25-32
Now the focus shifts. The older son represents the Pharisees, outwardly faithful, inwardly resentful. The father’s actions seem unjust to him. This moment forces us to question whether we, too, struggle with the grace God shows others. The older son distances himself emotionally from both father and brother. He sees himself as a servant, not a son. His language, “this son of yours,” is accusatory and cold, unlike the father’s earlier “this son of mine.”
The father’s response is tender. He reminds the older son of his security and inheritance. But the real invitation is to joy. The parable ends unresolved. Will the older brother enter the house? Jesus leaves the question open, inviting the religious leaders and us to step into the grace that welcomes the undeserving home.
TODAY’S KEY TRUTH
The road home is paved with repentance, not perfection, and the Father runs to meet us with grace.
APPLICATION
Jesus tells the story of a man with two sons. The younger son is impatient and selfish. He doesn’t want to wait for his inheritance, so he asks for it early. That’s a bold and disrespectful request in that culture. Shockingly, the father agrees. With money in hand, the young man leaves home and heads to a distant country, far from the boundaries and expectations of his family and faith.
At first, everything seems to be going well. He spends freely, parties often, and lives like there’s no tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes, along with hardship, famine, and emptiness. The money runs out, the friends disappear, and the only job he can find is feeding pigs. For a Jewish man, this was the lowest of the low. He’s starving, surrounded by animals he was taught to avoid, and he realizes something: even the servants in his father’s house live better than this.
He decides to go back. But he doesn’t expect full restoration. He doesn’t imagine himself as a son again. He plans to ask for a servant’s role: just enough to survive. As he walks home, rehearsing his apology, the father sees him in the distance. Before the son can finish his speech, the father runs, something no dignified patriarch would do, wraps his arms around him, and throws a celebration. The lost son is home, and not just as a servant. He’s fully restored.
But the story isn’t over.
The older brother, who never left, hears the music and is furious. He refuses to join the party. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he says. “I’ve followed the rules. And this son of yours gets a feast?” The father, once again, comes out to meet a son, this time the one who stayed and pleads with him to join the celebration.
This story is not merely about a rebellious child or a faithful sibling. It’s about the radical, restorative love of the Father. The younger son represents those who have wandered far from God. The older son represents those who have remained close in proximity but distant in understanding. And the father represents God, who runs to the broken and pleads with the proud.
The younger son thought he had to work his way back into the father’s good graces. That’s often how we think of God: as someone who might let us back in if we grovel long enough. But Jesus is clear: the Father doesn’t need convincing. He runs. He embraces. He restores. The robe, the ring, and the sandals are symbols of full sonship, not probationary status.
On the other hand, the older brother believed he had earned his place through obedience. But his attitude reveals a heart that misunderstands grace just as much as the younger brother did. He sees himself as a worker, not a son. His loyalty is transactional, not relational. He resents grace because it doesn’t seem fair. And grace isn’t fair. Grace is better than fair. It’s undeserved, unearned, and unstoppable.
Jesus leaves the parable open-ended. We don’t know if the older brother ever goes inside. That’s intentional. Jesus was speaking to Pharisees and sinners alike. He was showing that everyone needs grace, whether they run or remain.
So listen...
If you’ve run, you need to hear this: there is always a road home. You may feel like you've wasted your time, your calling, or your life but the Father still sees you. He’s not waiting to punish you. He’s waiting to embrace you. You don’t have to clean yourself up before you come back. You just have to come. Repentance is the first step; grace will meet you for the rest of the journey.
If you’ve stayed, don’t let resentment take root. The longer we walk with God, the easier it is to feel entitled to His blessings and skeptical of His grace toward others. But mature faith rejoices when the lost are found. True sonship is not about duty; it’s about relationship. Don’t serve the Father from a distance. Step into the joy of knowing Him.
As leaders, we are called to model the Father’s heart. That means we don’t write people off. We don’t make people earn their way back. We make grace visible, tangible, and available. Whether you lead a family, a team, a ministry, or a business, lead with the love that runs first, forgives fully, and restores freely.
Sometimes leadership is knowing how to respond to those who have failed. Other times, it’s knowing how to shepherd the one who stayed and feels forgotten. In either case, we lead best when we reflect the heart of the Father: not ashamed to run toward the broken, not hesitant to celebrate redemption, and not afraid to challenge pride.
Never forget that you’re not just the older brother or the younger one. You’re also a child who has been welcomed home. Your job is not to earn your place but to enjoy the Father’s presence and invite others in joyfully.
The road home is open. And the Father is always waiting and running to welcome His children back.
The road home is paved with repentance, not perfection, and the Father runs to meet us with grace.
CONCLUSION
Some of us know exactly what it feels like to be the prodigal. We remember the moment we walked away, the season we stopped praying, the choices that left us empty. Others of us have never physically left the church, but our hearts wandered off long ago. We show up, we serve, we smile, but the joy is gone. We're dutiful but distant, and we wonder if God even notices.
And yet, the Father sees.
He sees you when you're far off, when you're sitting in your car trying to find the courage to pray again, when you're staring at the ceiling wondering if He still cares, and when you’re surrounded by people but feel spiritually invisible. He sees it all. He doesn’t wait for you to crawl back in shame. He runs. Not with anger in His voice, but with joy in His heart. That’s the kind of God we serve.
The road home is paved with repentance, not perfection, and the Father runs to meet us with grace.
This story isn’t just a parable. It’s a mirror. It reveals where we are, and it reminds us who He is. I said this earlier: somewhere on our timeline, the story of the prodigal son unfolds.
If you're the younger son, come home. You don't have to fix everything first. You don't have to earn your way back. The road is open. The Father is running. You may have left in rebellion, but you can return in grace. Your seat at the table is still there.
If you're the older brother, come inside. Don't let bitterness keep you from joy. Don’t miss the celebration because you feel it's unfair or things don’t go the way you think they should. The Father loves you too, deeply, fully, relentlessly. God also loves the ones you may struggle to forgive. And part of growing up in faith is learning to celebrate what God celebrates.
And if you're neither, if you're somewhere in between, ask yourself this: Where am I in this story? What part of my heart needs to come home?
The road home is paved with repentance, not perfection, and the Father runs to meet us with grace.
Here’s the challenge: Don't let another week go by pretending you’re fine when you know you’re far. Don’t keep playing the role of the faithful servant if your heart has grown distant or cold. Whether you're leading a church or raising kids, building a business, or recovering from heartbreak, your greatest need isn’t success. It’s to be home in the Father’s love.
Too many of us hold the wrong perspective about God, “Watching us.” We think He’s watching us to catch us in our mistakes. The story of the prodigal son reveals that God is indeed watching us, but it's to welcome us home, to have us come inside.
So come home.
Come home from your failure.
Come home from your pride.
Come home from your exhaustion, your guilt, your self-reliance.
Come home to the embrace of grace that never stopped waiting for you.
You were never meant to live disconnected, defensive, or distant. You were made for the Father’s house and the Father’s heart.
The road is still open.
The Father is still running.
And Jesus is still saying, Follow me.
The road home is paved with repentance, not perfection, and the Father runs to meet us with grace.