Come Inside, The Feast Has Already Begun

Made Flesh

I have spent much of my life feeling like the prodigal son who squandered his Father’s gifts. I was raised in a Christian tradition that often made me believe my worth depended on how well I followed the rules. Like many emerging leaders I serve in the barrios of Santo Domingo, I learned to see God as a strict master who expected perfection, not as a loving father who runs toward his lost child with open arms. I was always trying to earn my place, afraid that I had already lost it.

But Jesus’ parable in Luke 15 shows us a different kind of Father: this is not the God of scarcity, withholding love until we prove ourselves worthy. This is a God who runs toward the lost, a God whose generosity is shocking, sometimes even scandalous. The prodigal son’s father doesn’t wait for explanations. He interrupts the boy’s rehearsed apology with an embrace. He won’t let his son define himself by failure because, to the father, he was never anything less than beloved.

In his book The Joy of Being Wrong: Original Sin Through Easter Eyes, James Alison reminds us that, “God is not in rivalry with us; rather, he is always in the business of making room for us.” This parable is an invitation to recognize a God who does not measure our worth by our failures or successes but welcomes us with radical love.

Yet I also recognize something of myself in the older brother. How many times have I looked around at others, comparing my faithfulness to theirs? How often have I felt that God’s grace is unfairly generous? The older brother stands outside the party, unable to celebrate because he is trapped in a transactional view of love. He has obeyed, worked, and waited for what he believes he deserves. But the father invites him into a new reality – the same reality he offered the younger son: one where love is not earned but freely given.

For those of us who grew up in legalistic faith traditions, this kind of grace can be unsettling. We are used to measuring ourselves and counting our failures and our successes. But in the Father’s house, there is no tally sheet – only a feast. The question is not whether we have done enough but whether we will accept the invitation to step inside.

As Brennan Manning reminds us in his great work The Ragamuffin Gospel, “God loves you unconditionally, as you are and not as you should be, because nobody is as they should be.” This truth is deeply liberating for those of us who have spent our lives feeling like we must earn our place at the table.

In the urban communities where I serve, many of the leaders I walk with carry deep wounds from religious environments that taught them to fear rejection. They struggle to believe that God’s love is truly for them. But Jesus tells this parable so we can see ourselves in it – both as the wayward son longing for home and as the resentful son who doesn’t yet know he is already home. And in the center of it all stands the Father, pleading with us to join the celebration.

We do not have to be afraid. We are not unwanted guests in God’s house. We belong. Whether we are returning after failure or struggling to let go of resentment, the invitation remains the same: come inside, the feast has already begun.

Dwelling Among Us

Do you see yourself more as the prodigal son or the older brother in this story? Why?

What beliefs about God’s love might be keeping you from fully accepting God’s grace?

Imagine yourself in the scene from the story. How does it feel to be embraced by the Father? How does it feel to be invited to the celebration?