Prodigal Forgiveness

A photo by Sonja Langford. unsplash.com/photos/eIkbSc3SDtITiming is everything, so they say.

Jumping at the right moment to grab the long, downfield pass into coverage. Striking the 100 mph fastball with the meat of the bat. Knowing the exact moment when to take the souffle out of the oven. Remaining silent until it’s absolutely necessary to speak.

“Father, give me my inheritance.” How long had the younger son been contemplating this request. What had precipitated it? Why now? Why couldn’t he wait?

Imagine if that request had come today, how long it would have taken to liquidate the estate, and give the son what he wanted. And yet he did.

Add to that the months, maybe even years, that it took the prodigal son to spend it all before he realized that his coffers were empty.

And from the time he left, the father probably started and ended each day looking at the horizon, hoping to see him return. Then he did. Without warning. Lavishly embraced by the forgiveness willingly and generously given by the father.

Fifteen years ago, most of us remember where we were, watching the Twin Towers crash to the ground and disappear into ash and dust or the destruction of the Pentagon or the crash of the flight that ended in a Pennsylvania field.

As I listened to the parable of the Prodigal Son Sunday, I wondered if and when we will be able to open our arms bravely, lovingly, and without restraint and forgive those who harmed us as the Father forgives us all.

Timing is everything. Isn’t it time?

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