The Prodigal

I am prodigal.

 Demanding of my Father. Wild, unrestrained in my living. In my anger. In my thoughts. In my brokenness. Each time, I must come to the point of want before I turn. Before I humble. 

Before I beg of my Father, what He longs to give.

He is reckless, unrestrained. He lavishes love where I deserve contempt. He is wild in His comfort, soothing my ache. He is abundant in mercy removing my stain.

My father is prodigal, extravagant.

I am prodigal. I am the elder brother in my pride. In my envy. In proving my abilities. I do not melt under my Father's grace. I harden. Refusing to come in. To enter the abundance.

Even so, my Father is relentless, pursuing. Again, He lavishes. Again offers all.

I come to my senses. I return to my Father.

He is prodigal. He is lavish.

And the celebration begins.