Rediscovering the Father’s Heart in the Prodigal Son Story
Oh, the intimacy of His fellowship with us!
Have you ever paused to wonder why Jesus told the story of the Prodigal Son? Was it simply to highlight the joy of a sinner returning home? Or is there a deeper message—one about the heart of the Father that we, like both sons, often fail to see?
A brother in Christ recently shared an interpretation of this beloved parable with me. It focused on the Father’s joy being incomplete without both sons sitting together at the table, emphasizing God’s love for both the rebellious and the self-righteous. While I appreciated the thoughtfulness of this view, I struggled to see it as the primary thrust of the parable within its context.
The preceding parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin highlight the joy of recovering what is lost. However, the story of the Prodigal Son shifts the focus to relationships. As much as God rejoices over a sinner’s return, this parable invites us to look beyond the sons’ actions and into the Father’s heart. It’s not merely about outward rebellion or self-righteous pride—it’s about knowing and responding to the love of the Father.
This understanding aligns closely with Wayne Jacobsen’s interpretation in He Loves Me, which has deeply influenced my own view. Jacobsen sees the parable as a powerful depiction of two sons—one lost in rebellion, the other lost in self-righteousness—both failing to truly know their father. Let’s explore this perspective and how it draws us into a deeper understanding of God’s grace.
Two Lost Sons, One Loving Father
The parable begins with, “A man had two sons” (Luke 15:11). While their outward actions differ greatly, both sons misunderstand their father and seek to live according to the flesh—one through rebellion (“bad flesh”) and the other through dutiful performance (“good flesh”).
The Younger Son: Lost in Rebellion
The younger son demands his inheritance, essentially wishing his father dead. He squanders everything in reckless living and, when he hits rock bottom, decides to return home—not as a son, but as a servant. He believes his behavior has disqualified him from his father’s love.
But the father sees him from afar and runs to meet him, embracing him before a single word of apology is spoken. He restores him completely—not as a servant, but as a beloved son. The younger son’s real problem wasn’t his rebellion; it was his failure to understand the depth of his father’s love.
The Older Brother: Lost in Self-Righteousness
Meanwhile, the older brother stays home, outwardly obedient and dutiful. Yet, when the celebration begins for his younger brother’s return, his heart is revealed. He becomes angry, refusing to join the feast.
The older brother’s problem is just as serious as the younger brother’s: he sees his father as a taskmaster who rewards performance. He fails to realize that his father’s love is not earned through service. Despite his proximity, he’s relationally distant, relying on his “good flesh” to secure his place.
Reflecting on My Journey
As I reflect on this parable, I can’t help but see myself in both sons—sometimes at the same time. I’ve wandered far in rebellion, like the younger son, assuming my failures disqualified me from God’s love. And I’ve lived like the older son, striving to earn what was already mine through self-righteous performance.
It overwhelms me to think that my Father loved me just as much during those years of wandering and striving as He does now. I used to see myself through the lens of my failures and inadequacies, but He never did. His love for me was—and is—unchanging.
What brings me to tears, though, is the 25 years I spent as a Christian striving and struggling, not fully trusting Him. I knew His love in my head but not in my heart. Looking back, those years feel like lost time, not because God wasn’t with me, but because I didn’t grasp His heart. Yet even those years weren’t wasted—they were part of His process, breaking me of my illusions of control and bringing me to a place of total surrender.
When I finally understood in my heart that my life was hidden with Christ in God, everything changed. The striving ceased. The fear melted away. I could rest, not in my own efforts, but in His sufficiency. While I grieve the years I didn’t live in that freedom, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the eternity I have to bask in His love.
Reframing "Lost Time" in Light of Grace
Now is a moment to pause and reflect—a Selah, if you will—on the magnitude of what has just been shared. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve wasted time in your walk with Christ, as you can see above, you’re not alone. But let me share the truth that has brought me peace: God is a redeemer of time.
The Apostle Paul, perhaps more than anyone, understood the weight of a past life spent striving in self-righteousness and opposing God. He called himself the “chief of sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15), and yet he never let that past define him. In Philippians 3:7-8, Paul declares:
“But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
Paul’s perspective is not one of regret but of gratitude. He saw his past, not as wasted time, but as a backdrop that magnified the grace of God. His story became a testimony of God’s patience and transformative power (1 Timothy 1:16).
The same is true for us. As Joel 2:25 promises, God can restore “the years that the locust has eaten.” The time you feel was lost was never outside His sovereign control. He has been working, even in your wandering and striving, to refine you and bring you closer to His heart.
This reframing frees us from regret. While we may grieve missed opportunities, we can rejoice that God is in the business of redemption. Like the father in the parable, He waits patiently, always ready to embrace us with open arms.
Transitioning from Misunderstanding to Relationship
Wayne Jacobsen’s interpretation highlights this central theme: both sons miss the heart of their father. The younger son lives for self-gratification, assuming he has forfeited his father’s love. The older son lives for self-righteous achievement, failing to see that he already has everything he needs in his father’s love.
The Father in the parable represents our Heavenly Father, who longs for us to move beyond living according to the flesh—whether in rebellion or in moral performance—and to enter into an intimate, trusting relationship with Him.
An Invitation to Know the Father
This parable isn’t about a father divided between two sons; it’s about a father inviting both to know his heart. The celebration isn’t merely for the younger son’s return—it’s an invitation for both sons to join in relationship with their father.
As I shared with my brother in Christ, the beauty of this story lies in the Father’s relentless love. Whether we’ve wandered far like the younger son or stayed close yet distant in spirit like the older brother, the Father’s invitation is the same: “Come and know my heart.”
For Those Guiding Others
As parents, friends, or mentors, this story also reminds us to reflect the heart of the Father. Just as the father in the parable never gave up on either son, we are called to patiently love and guide those in our care. Whether they are lost in rebellion or self-righteousness, we can extend grace and remind them of their Father’s relentless love, trusting the Spirit to work in their hearts.
A Closing Reflection
The story of the prodigal son isn’t just about one son’s return or another’s stubbornness—it’s about a Father whose love remains constant and unwavering. It’s about a God who invites us to leave behind our fleshly ways and discover the freedom and joy of living as His beloved children.
Are you living like the younger son, believing you’ve gone too far to be loved? Or like the older son, striving to earn what’s already yours? The Father’s heart is open wide to both. Step into the celebration. Rest in His love.
Let’s journey together into the joy of knowing our Father—not just as a distant figure, but as the source of life and love we were created to experience.