The beginning of Luke 15 has an amazing start, “All the tax collectors and sinners were approaching to listen to him,” but the religious leaders grumbled: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Jesus answered with three stories: a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. In each one, something precious is lost, someone either searches or waits, and when it’s found, there’s a real party!

In a week about returning to Eden, it’s hard to miss the last story in the passage is about coming home. When the wayward son finally heads home, rehearsing his speech, the father sees him a long way off, runs to him, and throws his arms around the son’s neck. Before the son can even finish his speech, the father calls for the best robe, a ring, and sandals for his tired feet. He isn’t restored as a servant; he’s restored as a son.

That’s the very heart of restoration. Ever since the garden, the human story has been a story of distance from the Father. In Jesus, God doesn’t just repair the scenery of creation; He brings His children home and seats them at His table. Jesus wasn’t just describing that welcome; He was living it, eating with the very people others had written off.

After this week’s elections, with the division in our nation and in our churches, I can’t help but think we could all learn from His example. You see, Jesus doesn’t end the story with the party. The older brother, feeling slighted and angry that his reckless brother was being celebrated, went outside to stew in his feelings. He’d been with the father the whole time, but his heart was far from his father’s joy.

I love the words of the father as he pleads with him; but we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” We don’t know if he responded properly or even went inside to join the feast. Jesus left that with the Pharisee, and He leaves it with us.

Living the Way of Jesus means joining the Father’s joy instead of standing outside with our arms crossed in hateful despair. Practically, it looks like welcoming people whose stories are messier than our own, making room at our tables, and celebrating when someone turns towards God instead of keeping score on their past. It also means taking an honest look at our own hearts for older brother-style resentment; not to earn a place at the table, but because we’ve already been welcomed there.

When the lost come home, heaven erupts in celebration. Let’s make sure we’re inside to join them.

Honesty time. Which brother do you most identify with right now, the one coming home or the one standing outside? Think of someone you find it hard to celebrate with and for. What would it look like to make room for them at your table?

Father, thank You for running to meet me when I was still a long way off. I’m so grateful for the welcome I could never earn. Search my heart for the older brother’s resentment and remove from me the habit of keeping score. Make me more like Jesus, who welcomed sinners to His table. Teach me to rejoice when even the most lost one comes home. Amen.

“This week I can share in the Father’s joy by welcoming __________________.”