I said I would try and share some stuff from the retreat – so here goes.

This has got to be my favourite story in the Bible as it says to me that whatever I do, however badly I screw up, no matter what mess I make of things or how far away from God I run that no only can I have the confidence to return to God, but when I do I will find him running towards me. Running towards me because since I left he has been looking and waiting for my return. Running towards me because he wants me at home with him.

That side of the cosmic father just blows my mind away to be honest.

It is because I love this story so much that it has bred quite a familiarity within me. I was quite surprised to see and learn new stuff from such a familiar setting.

On retreat we were set the task of getting inside the character of the son and I was surprised at some of the emotions and thoughts this induced within me. I found myself wondering if there was more to the story than immediately meets the eye.

Wondering, for example, if the son’s predicament all came about through a bluff. I wondered if he really wanted to leave or if this was merely a ‘Hey Dad, you and big bro are smothering me – cut me some slack, let me try some stuff out’. I wondered if, as a young lad, he could not articulate that and so, as teenage sons tend to do, went straight for the jugular: ‘Dad … I wish you were dead!’ Make no mistake, in that culture asking for your inheritance was unheard of and amounted to wishing exactly that! How many teenage sons and daughters have said something similar to their parents just to wind them up r out of exasperation over they years?

I imagined the son walking away thinking ‘Flipping eck! What have I done!’ As he walked away with his thousands I could relate to a smug smile appearing on his face along with the ‘I will show them’ attitude. I could relate and visualise completely as I think I have been there with my parents. I could feel the elation of walking away from home, with the full intention of never having to return; along with fear and trepidation that I was refusing to admit to. The fear and excitement were all there and very real again. I was in the picture!

In some ways I can relate to this in my walk with God. Those times when I think I can run ahead without him and think he is holding me back are, I think, quite similar.

I tried to imagine how he felt when he realised everything had gone. Totally frustrated I thought. Not so much at screwing up, but knowing, deep down, that he was going to have to go back. He needed to admit his helplessness. He needed to admit he could not do it on his own. I would have hated to have to do that. I do hate doing that!

I thought what his journey back along the road would have been like. I used to think he was worrying about how dad would react. I wonder now whether he was thinking something completely different. Something like ‘well if I’m coming back, it can’t be like it was before! I’m not going to take all that crap again! If I’m coming back then things are going to have to be different!’

It struck me that the son was trying to come back on his terms. That is what I think all the ‘I am not worthy to be your son, let me do this job’ stuff is all about.

I then wondered if that is me. Do I try to return to God on my own terms? Do I say, well I will do this, I’m not worthy so let me do that. Yes is the simple answer. Its a great way of keeping control as to let God have control, who knows best, is just sometimes to scary to contemplate. In my case putting God in a box is nice and safe. The more control I have the better! Of course, it does not work.

I can relate to the sons thoughts as he trudges home along the road. I could see the excitement of the scene as dad rushes out to meet him. Here I start to lose the story and the connectedness with the son that I had earlier.

It is nearly impossible for me to imagine what the embrace of the father was like. I’m not alone in having an absent father figure, and with those thousands of other ‘fatherless’ people I have never felt the embrace of my real dad. It is something I used to long for as a child and as a teenager. As an adult the desire is still there, but with an honest and healthy realisation that it is never going to happen. That induces pain and regret which I can draw positives from.

10 years ago, when I was 30, I found out my natural father was alive. I found out my mum had been lying and had told me he had died. 10 years ago my whole identity came into question as I started to rediscover who I was. After a short while I realised my real dad was uninterested and did not want to know me or my family. I could excuse the rejection as a baby (actually I could not!)- after all he did not know what the baby had turned out like! To be rejected a second time, once he had got to know me was a little tougher.

I wanted to be accepted, to be hugged, to be loved. I guess I got the opposite of the prodigal – is there a term for that?

The positives, though, are good. I have said I do not know what the embrace of the father is like. But I do know the embrace of the son. I hugged my boys only this evening (as well as my daughter) and there is no feeling quite like it. AS I sat hugging them, my mind tried to imagine what it would be like from the other side. At least my boys know; and when they come to look at this fantastic story maybe they will have a more complete understanding than I have.

As I finished meditating on the character of the son I felt the father say ‘It does not matter; the important thing is that you are here, back with me.’