Between the Robe and the Party

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. ²¹ 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.’^[c^]22 But the father said to his servants,^[d^] ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. ²³ And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. ²⁴ For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.

Luke 15:20-24 ESV

I found myself stuck recently when trying to explain the journey I’ve been on the past year. As I was trying to convey my heart, all I could envision was walk of The Lost Son and his Father after they met in the road and made their way toward the celebration meal. I’ve never really imagined what that walk must’ve felt like for the lost one. But all of a sudden it became my favorite part of the story… this untold moment immediately became my undoing and God began to minister to me His love for me, just like He did for the “Lost Son”.

As he was walking up to the great estate that was once his home, I imagine he was likely practicing the groveling speech he’d planned to recite to his father. “I know I messed up, Abba. I will never be worthy to be your child again, but I will spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. I promise I’ll be good, if you just get me off these streets. I know I don’t deserve to be here and I have no right to even ask… but if you could just have mercy. I am so tired…

With every step up the road back to his father’s house, his heart pounding a little more, trying to get the words just right, the tone of voice, being insecure and embarrassed of the stench coming off his body but knowing this was his best chance. He knew his father’s house was a place of safety, rest, and provision. He knew his dad was kind and hoped that if he begged in just the right way, he would be forgiven of his trespasses and maybe allowed to work off his debt and insult. 

Then he hears his name being called out from far up the road. As he lifts his eyes from the rocky path, he hears his name again. His father’s voice is calling out to him. The son raises his face and sees his father, this man of dignity and strength, holding the skirts of his robe, running towards him. The Message translation says it this way:

“When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’”

Luke 15:20-21 MSG

But the father would hear none of that nonsense. The father, being filled with compassion and excitement and gratitude called out for his son, ran to his son, and never once questioned why he was there. Instead, he welcomed him into a standing the son thought would be lost forever. The father even called for his servants to gather around his boy and restore him to his rightful place as a son of the house. 

The son was standing in the middle of the road, speechless as his father made sure he received the family ring. He took his filthy, swine-stained, repulsive smelling garments and covered his son with the best robes he had. He ordered sandals to be put on his bare feet. Suddenly, the rocks and pebbles didn’t cut into every step. The son felt halfway human as he was escorted back to the family home. That’s the walk I’m walking now… between the robe and the party.

All I have idolized and ran to and the greatness I’ve tried to accomplish on my own has left a rotting stink that offended my own nostrils. I haven’t believed the best of The Father’s character. I have struggled to believe that He *actually* is who I believe Him to be… because it’s too good! And if He truly is that good, then I have no right to be counted among His beloved. Because I am a wretch. So as I plan my attempts to earn my keep and prove that I can at least be useful as a hired hand, I hear my name…

There’s something overwhelming about knowing that Almighty God knows my name. Just the fact that He is aware of who I am is confusing at times. But to hear Him calling my name with compassion and softness and joy and “Fatherliness” is almost too much. I don’t know how to respond. And then, my Abba Father, in all His overwhelming grace and mercy and restoring love, once again removes the filthy identity I could never shake off on my own. It only works when He digs deep and relieves me of my ‘drangoned’ skin. *If you’ve never read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis, you must. The chapter of Eustace and his “undragoning” is a picture of this process much more beautifully conveyed than I could articulate. Here’s a little snippet.*

It’s so much to process! Just moments ago, the son (who is me) was stumbling, barely alive enough to walk back home, his feet and legs completely tore up by the rocky road he’d been traveling, his mind only focused on delivering the speech of a lifetime so he might be allowed back within the gates, never expecting to get a son’s welcoming. But this father… our Father is solid. 

He never disowned the son when he stepped outside of His domain. He saw the story of tragedy all over the filthy rags his son wore and said “what are thooose?” and orders robes that represent his boy’s true identity as HIS. A son of the house. And the son just stands there… surprised to be loved (Psalms 18:19 MSG). And after this insane change of clothes and adorning with sandals and family signet rings and hugs and kisses, his father goes even further and calls for a massive celebration. And they begin to walk up to the house together, heading towards the welcoming party.
 
This walk, side-by-side with The Father, being mostly supported by His strong arm because my legs and back are weak with fatigue and malnutrition and foolishness, as He escorts me back toward what He says is my rightful seat at the family table, is the walk I’ve both dreaded and desperately needed for months. Here I am, trying to process that what’s old is gone. The vision of my Father running toward me, closing the distance because I was incapable of making the journey myself, is replayed in my mind as He cries over me. The feeling of His kisses on my cheeks and forehead makes me wonder if He can even see the pig-filth that I know must remain even though I did my best to wash it off before He saw me. I know He knows… but He loves on me anyway.
 
This walk up to the celebration hall is chiseling away at my disbelieving heart with every step. I stare at the ring on my finger that claims me as His own. I haven’t worn garments this comforting in ages. Even my feet are protected from the pain I had grown so accustomed to when I was walking alone before. I realize that My Father covered all of me with signs of His affection and approval – The kisses on the top of my head as He hugged my neck and the very best of His garments to cover my arms and body and legs. The ring on my finger and sandals on my feet… I’m covered.
 
He’s felt my absence. He’s mourned it even. And while I don’t know if I’ll ever “feel” worthy of His acceptance, as we walk together I begin to realize that I’m not fooling Him. I’m not an imposter in The Good Place afraid to be found out that I don’t *actually* belong here. No. He’s fully aware. My beat-up stinky appearance when He met me on the road was a dead giveaway.  He knows all. He knows all of my deep dives into the abyss. He knows the ways I stepped out. He is not surprised. I actually think it makes our walk more powerful.

I begin to see that He ran to me while I was still a long way off so that we could have this time of reconciliation together. He wanted this long walk just Him and I so I could know without a doubt that I am still loved. So I could feel His compassionate sturdy-ing. The celebration hall is just on the horizon, but in the meantime, my Father is showing me His heart and re-establishing my given identity. And as He walks with me, all I can feel is His kiss of delight on my head. I am His.

Always. 

I love you all!

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