The Great Embrace
Not all hugs are created equal.
Think for a moment of the hugs you received as a child from distant relatives. They probably felt a bit forced and stiff.
Contrast those with the hugs you give to your friends on Sunday morning at church. Although quick, they’re warm and filled with affection.
Now consider the hugs that people receive at the airport from loved ones when returning home after a long time away. Such hugs are never rushed. Sometimes people get picked up and twirled around. Faces are filled with huge smiles and sometimes even tears of joy.
Finally, have you ever fallen into somebody’s arms at a funeral and held each other as you wept and wept together? Such hugs are precious, poignant, even holy.
Powerful experiences transform ordinary hugs into extraordinary embraces. Never was this more true than in the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15).
What makes the father’s embrace of his long-lost son in Jesus’ story so powerful to us? Of all Jesus’ parables, why is this particular moment written so indelibly on our hearts?
Perhaps it’s because we can deeply identify with the prodigal son. We may never have run away from home, but we’ve rebelled. We might never have been envious of the slop pigs eat, but we’ve bottomed out. Most agonizingly of all, we know what it means to have broken our Heavenly Father’s heart.
At our lowest low, our confidence in our worldview and our ability to figure things out on our own was shattered. Our pride was thoroughly stomped under foot. We were at the end of ourselves, and we knew it.
But God …
Though the tide of our brokenness was sweeping us out to sea, the lighthouse of God’s love renewed hope. Words of life came pouring into our hearts: “Return to me, and I will return to you” (Malachi 3:7). “Whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37).
We joined the prodigal in saying to ourselves, “I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you’” (Luke 15:18).
Emaciated, dressed in our spiritual rags, and without a Plan B, we too approached God in our destitute state. Knowing we deserved nothing, and content if we could just be a servant on the fringes of the family of God, never could we have imagined the Father’s response.
He ran to us.
He swept us into His arms.
He kissed us and held us in His embrace, tears of joy flowing down His holy face.
How?
How could the Father hold us when we were so filthy? How could our return possibly bring so much joy to the everlasting King of kings? How could He call such rebels, “My children”, and dance over us like there’s no tomorrow?
Only God. No one else could. No one else would.
What makes the father’s embrace of his long-lost son so powerful to us? Perhaps it’s that in His embrace, we feel the brokenness of our own soul being consumed in the overwhelming restorative passion of God’s Divine Love.
For all of us who have been forgiven and included in the life of Jesus Christ, this is our story. The Heavenly Father’s embrace marked our entry into the kingdom of God: hope restored, joy rekindled, love reimagined.
But for all the glory of God’s embrace of us when we first repented and confessed our sin to the Lord, we might wonder, “What do I mean to the Father now that I’m back in the household? Is the Father’s greatest joy reserved for long-lost sinners who return? Does my presence in the household still bring Him delight?”
These are understandable questions which ultimately reveal more about us than about God. We have limited time, energy, attention, and passion. We can’t give everybody our best at all times. Our attention is either here or there. When it’s divided, everybody around us can sense that we’re not fully present to them. This is us, even at our human best.
But God …
God never is hurried – He is eternal.
He never becomes weary – He is the endless fount of abundant life and strength.
He never gets distracted – He is always, fully present in and with each one of His children.
And perhaps most amazing of all, He never grows tired of us – the passion of His love for us burns like an everlasting, white-hot star.
Romans 5:10 says, “For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!”
Could I paraphrase this verse in our context? For if, while we were prodigal daughters and sons, we were swept into His loving embrace, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be held in His passionate joy and endless delight for all eternity!
What makes the Father’s embrace so uniquely extraordinary? Unlike even the greatest hugs in this life, God’s embrace never weakens, fades, or ends. Instead, His embrace is where His children are continually meant to live, love, and find our identity. It’s where we abide with Jesus and find daily strength and peace. It’s simultaneously the place of mission and the place we call home.
It’s the place of receiving every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms – all that we will ever need, and all that we could ever want. Therefore, it’s also the place we’re invited to stop striving in our own strength, stop fighting to prove our worth, and stop trying to control outcomes. The Father’s embrace is where we’re invited to lay down all these exhausting, lesser things in humble surrender to His holy love.
Henri Nouwen puts it so beautifully in “The Return of the Prodigal Son”:
Dear friend, where are you right now? Are you far away from the Lord, lost and disillusioned in a distant land? Are you on the way back home, but concerned if you’ll be welcomed? Are you back in the household, but wondering if you’ve gotten lost in the shuffle? The Father’s arms are wide open to you.
It’s time. Time to come home. Time to be caught up into the Great Embrace. Let’s go together.
Written by Don Reynard