The Father's Word to His Children

Younger son, you are welcome to this table of feasting.

I know your story, and you are still welcome here. You’ve run far away. You have spent all I gave you. You have sold your body to the whims of your less wholesome desires and to the less wholesome desires of others. You even thought you’d lost your own soul. You came back barefoot and head down, and you couldn’t hide the stench from your clothes or your heart.

You are welcome here at this table. But first, you are welcome in my arms, in my full embrace. You are welcome in my best robe. You are welcomed back into all the dignity and strength and beauty that you thought had be erased in you. You will be no hired servant. You are my child, whom I love.

Welcome home.

- Dad

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Older son, you are welcome to this feast as well.

I’ve seen your haughty eyes and your resentful heart. I am not unaware of the anger you carry, disgruntled that it feels impossible to work hard enough to earn my favor. That’s because it is. But not because you aren’t good enough yet, but because I already have given you all I have. I see how hard it is for you to welcome your wayward brother - because it’s so hard for you to welcome your own true heart, both it’s glory and it’s shadows. You’ve diminished yourself in your own eyes, but not in mine. Never in mine. You’ve always been my beloved. And the door is open still - if you can just set aside your judgment and ‘perfection’ long enough to enter in.

You are welcome home whenever you’re ready to return.

- Dad