Day 93: Aggressive Grace

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet!’” Luke 15:17–22 niv

Several years ago, when I was stressed over being so far behind on a book deadline, I was sitting at the kitchen table typing and realized my cell phone wasn’t next to my laptop, where I was pretty sure I’d left it. Missy was comfortably sprawled out on the couch about twenty feet away watching The Fox and the Hound (which used to be one of her favorite Disney classics), so I called out, “Hey honey, have you seen my phone?” To which she chirped happily, “Yes ma’am!” I got up from the table and walked over to her and asked, “Baby, I need to check something on my phone so will you please tell me where it is?” She grinned mischievously and replied, “I put it in a draweh, Mama!”

I wasn’t feeling especially tolerant at the time but realizing she thought we were playing a game, I tried to play along, “Okay, baby, how about you show me what drawer you chose to hide Mama’s phone in?” She bounced to her feet and began skipping from room to room, opening drawer after drawer, none of which contained my phone.

After about fifteen minutes of the increasingly frustrating routine of Missy emphatically declaring, “It’s in ’dis drawah, Mama!” only to find that it wasn’t, and after I’d stopped the festivities several times to clarify how important it was for her to show me where she’d hidden my phone (Missy had only been speaking English for about a year at that point so there was still a significant communication gap between us), I reached the bottom of my patient parent bucket.

I knelt down to her level, looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes, and said in a very firm tone that sounds shockingly like the one my mother used with me when I misbehaved at Missy’s age, “Melissa, This. Is. Not. Funny. At. All. If you don’t show me where you put my phone right now, I will turn off the movie and you’re going to bed early.” Of course, her eyes filled with crocodile tears and her bottom lip began to tremble but since I think consistency is critical in parenting, I followed through by putting my hand on her tiny shoulder and herding her to her bedroom, turning the TV off en route much to her dismay.

A little while later, I came trudging back downstairs with a sagging spirit because I don’t enjoy disciplining Missy even though I know it’s usually for her good. Plus, I was fretting about the fact that I didn’t have time to go to the Apple store to get a new phone the next day, not to mention dreading what crucial data might have been gobbled from my iPhone innards never to seen again by the ubiquitous, carnivorous “cloud.”

Frustration and worry were getting their party started in my head when I glanced at the Bible next to my laptop and wondered, “What is that weird lump in my study Bible?” Before I flipped it open to find the “missing” phone, my heart had already begun it’s swift descent to my stomach. It’s a wonder the Holy Spirit didn’t zap my posterior with lightning as I bolted back upstairs to Missy’s room in order to apologize.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in mine, but before I was able to explain why I was sorry, her face split into a grin, she blurted out sincerely, “Dat’s okay, Mama. I lub you!” wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed. My tenderhearted baby girl is so uncomfortable when she feels distance between us that she often jumps the gun and forgives me before I even have time to confess!

The thing that slays me about the story of the prodigal son is that the father forgave the son before the wayward dude even began to repent! He wraps his arms around his son before the son can even start his speech! So does that mean repentance isn’t an important thing when it comes to genuine salvation? Nope. It means that the father was so incredibly eager to restore the son into a right relationship with himself that he preempted the son’s true repentance (which our Father knows beforehand because He’s omnipotent) with mercy. I don’t know about you, but the idea of our Father jumping the gun and forgiving me before I even confess—actually pursuing me with aggressive grace—puts me in the mood to admit my mistakes much faster!

• How can you relate to the prodigal son in this passage?
• In your moments of stumbling, how does it make you feel to know that God is—instead of fuming or apathetic—uncomfortable with and even saddened about the distance between the two of you?
• Has it ever occurred to you that when you run to God to repent, He’s actually been running toward you the whole time, too?