God Who Runs
The sun had broken first light and revealed a cloudless sky. The ripening wheat was barely rippled by a meager breeze - another hot day. The man was already outside giving instructions. A group of servants headed toward the animal pens while others moved in the direction of the vineyard. The man’s older son could be seen leading some workers out toward the wheat fields. The work day had begun.
As the man ascended the small rise on his way back to the main house, he paused to survey his estate. He was pleased. The crops had been coming right along. The servants, in spite of an occasional snag, were a hard working bunch. Yet, one thing was missing from his near perfect picture - his younger son. He had left home a long time ago and had never been heard from. The ache in the father’s heart had not gone away and was renewed daily as he thought about his welfare. Even now, as he did several times a day, his eyes had come to rest on the most distant point on the road which began at the house and disappeared between two wheat fields.
“When he comes home,” he thought, “he must come down this road. Some day, he will come. Perhaps today.”
The morning passed rather uneventfully, and the afternoon was now half spent. The father was returning from the sheep fold where they were having trouble with a pregnant ewe. As usual, he paused on the path and looked out down the road. Upon it was a solitary figure, shabbily dressed, walking slowly toward the house.
For a moment (but only a moment) he thought he was imagining the figure for he had done so in his mind so many times before. But this was for real, and he still knew that walk, that frame - it was his son! Filled with joy and compassion the father raced down the road. When he got to the young man, he wrapped him in his arms, kissed him, and held him for the longest time. His child was back. His son had come home!
Is your Father looking for you to come home, too?