Have you ever wanted something so badly that you were willing to trade everything for it — and then found it wasn't what you thought it would be? The story of the prodigal son grabs the part of us that chases freedom, status, or comfort with money and then wakes up empty. It speaks to the longing for autonomy, the shame of failure, and the surprising way God meets us not with condemnation but with open arms. This matters today because money still tempts us to think security and identity are found in what we control.
Jesus tells this story in Luke 15:11–32 (it’s unique to Luke and sits alongside the lost sheep and lost coin parables). A younger son demands his inheritance, leaves home, and squanders it on reckless living. When famine hits, he ends up feeding pigs and decides to return home, rehearsing a servant’s plea. Instead the father runs, embraces him, and throws a feast. The older son, who stayed and worked, is furious at the celebration. The father pleads with him, inviting him into relationship rather than performance. This parable appears only in Luke and purposely contrasts repentance rescued by grace with self-righteousness that resents that grace.
This story shows Jesus’ radical picture of God: a parent who longs for restoration more than for punishment. The father’s running — scandalous in that culture — reveals a God who does not wait for perfect posture before welcoming the lost. Don’t miss the weight here: God’s economy is not balancing ledgers but reclaiming people. At the same time, the parable indicts those of us who live like the elder brother — proud of our morality, blind to our own smallness, and resistant to celebrating mercy for others.
That tension between mercy and accountability is the Gospel’s power: the call to repent and the promise of full restoration. Grace does not erase the consequences of foolish choices, but it restores dignity and relationship as foundational.
Practical next step: today, name where money has been your idol or your refuge. Confess it honestly to God (and to a trusted friend or mentor), then take one concrete act of repentance: give generously to someone in need, invite a person you’ve judged to dinner, or set up a simple budget that redirects resources toward restoration — for others and for your own soul.
Jesus tells this story in Luke 15:11–32 (it’s unique to Luke and sits alongside the lost sheep and lost coin parables). A younger son demands his inheritance, leaves home, and squanders it on reckless living. When famine hits, he ends up feeding pigs and decides to return home, rehearsing a servant’s plea. Instead the father runs, embraces him, and throws a feast. The older son, who stayed and worked, is furious at the celebration. The father pleads with him, inviting him into relationship rather than performance. This parable appears only in Luke and purposely contrasts repentance rescued by grace with self-righteousness that resents that grace.
This story shows Jesus’ radical picture of God: a parent who longs for restoration more than for punishment. The father’s running — scandalous in that culture — reveals a God who does not wait for perfect posture before welcoming the lost. Don’t miss the weight here: God’s economy is not balancing ledgers but reclaiming people. At the same time, the parable indicts those of us who live like the elder brother — proud of our morality, blind to our own smallness, and resistant to celebrating mercy for others.
That tension between mercy and accountability is the Gospel’s power: the call to repent and the promise of full restoration. Grace does not erase the consequences of foolish choices, but it restores dignity and relationship as foundational.
Practical next step: today, name where money has been your idol or your refuge. Confess it honestly to God (and to a trusted friend or mentor), then take one concrete act of repentance: give generously to someone in need, invite a person you’ve judged to dinner, or set up a simple budget that redirects resources toward restoration — for others and for your own soul.