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Hi! I'm Meghan. I'm glad you stopped by. My hope is whether through food for the body or food for the soul, this blog will encourage and inspire you. One of my loves is to encourage others in their journey. Along with that, I hope to share with you my love for food, fitness, and Jesus!

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Testimony Tuesday: a Parent’s Love

Food for the Spirit
May 21, 2013 / By / , , , , , / Post a Comment

This is a testimony from a gent in the bible. I will let you guess whose perspective this is. I can identify with this story so much because I was that daughter that was living like this for many years, and my family was like this parent, welcoming me home with arms wide open. Their love and forgiveness restored me and the standard of close-knit relationships our family. In fact, their love helped me run straight into the arms of Jesus, and I haven’t looked back since.

And so the story begins…

I am writing this today to share about God’s faithfulness. I write to tell you He never gives up on one soul, not one, and that He pursues His children individually with a passionate, never-ending love. I write to you today to tell you and encourage you that there is a flurry of activity from God and His angels when you pray for your kids.

I have two sons, and like many siblings, they are both very different. One plays by the rules, while the other tends to test boundaries. One is respectful and obedient while the other is independent and strong-willed. I love both my sons with equal measure, and because I recognize differences within them, I pray for and even parent them differently.

When my boys were older, my younger son, the one who is more strong-willed, approached me about getting his inheritance early. Although I knew he was not mature enough to handle the money and the responsibility of it all, I decided after his begging to allow it to be so.

I divvied up the funds among both of my sons. My younger son immediately packed his bags and left. It was one of the hardest days of my life. He was too old for me to make him stay (or spank him!), yet I could see the path he was about to head down. It grieved me to see him go, wallet full, head high, and full of excitement and wild ambition. My oldest decided to stay, and continued putting his hands to work, and saved his money.

After my son left, I didn’t hear from him. I would get reports that he was living life in the fast lane–spending all of his inheritance on women and wild living. His reckless path was on its way to destruction. I stayed up late into the nights praying for my young son. My heart grieved for his decisions, but God was showing me that He was drawing my young son back to Him. Wooing him with His unconditional, unending love.

We heard a famine came over the land where my son was staying, and that he had spent every last dime of of his money. Because he had no money to buy food, he was starving. We heard he even persuaded a local farmer to hire him to feed the pigs, and he was so hungry he wanted to eat from the pig’s trough! I thought to myself, “When will he return home?” I continued to pray for him, that the blinders be removed from his eyes in the name of Jesus, and that he would know the HOPE of his calling, and that he still had a glorious inheritance with us. I prayed that laborers, people who knew this hope and were on fire for Jesus, would cross his path in the fields, and point and guide him in the way of the light.

Well, my prayers were answered. Eventually, it dawned on my son, that as he was wasting away from starvation, his family was back home, not in want of anything. He realized that even the bellies of my servants were full. Not even the birds around our fields were lacking. He thought he could come back to me, head hanging low, and ask for forgiveness and a place among my servants. He was ashamed to be called my son after all he had done. He rehearsed over and over what he would say to me, and finally mustered enough courage to pack up and come home.

I will never forget that day. I was out in the fields working, when I saw something, no someone, in the distance. Just like any good father, I could spot my son from miles away! He was coming home!! I could see, even from afar, that he was in a much different condition than when he’d left. His head was low, he had nothing with him but the rags on his body, and he looked gaunt and ashamed…like he had hit rock bottom.

My heart felt like it was going to burst into a million pieces when I saw him trudging up the hill in the distance. It crushed me to think what he must have been through to get to this point. Yet after all of that time, I was ecstatic and grateful at his return, and I still loved him as much as I did the day I saw him leave. A father’s love for his son does not diminish. My love for him did not waver at his choices. I love him the same, today, yesterday, and forever.

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All of these thoughts and emotions were swirling around within me, until I couldn’t contain it any longer, and I burst out of the field into a dead sprint; running with reckless abandon, with my arms wide open. He realized too what was happening, and started to run toward me. When we finally met, I wrapped my arms around his neck and couldn’t let go. I kissed him fervently, and felt so grateful he had finally returned.

When we could finally breathe again, my son said, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son!”

But I answered him and told my servants who were nearby, “Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.” So the party began.

My family learned some great truths between the lines of this journey. We learned God never gives up on one soul, and that my fervent prayers for him never ever fell upon deaf ears, but rather, all the while, my son was being drawn back by God and His love. I learned that praying for my son kept my heart tender toward him so that when he did come home, I was able to embrace him with arms wide open. My hope was in God so worry and bitterness could not devour me. God had softened my heart toward my son so I saw him like He did, so I didn’t assault him with blame or condemnation or the endless question of WHY upon his return. When I saw my son in the state he was in, there was no way I could chastise him or humiliate him. He had already done enough damage to himself. I knew it was my job to show him love, to welcome him back with arms wide open, just like Hosea did Gomer. God showed me that forgiveness keeps my heart in love, and that love restores the standard. My son’s position was restored, and love made it possible. I learned that God loves my son more than I love my son, and I don’t even know how that’s possible! He showed me that while there was a party here at our house, there was also one in heaven, because my son, who was lost, had been found!

Can you guess who it is? I will give you a hint…the story is from Luke.

Maybe you can identify with the parent in this. Maybe you can identify with one of the brothers. Maybe you can’t identify at all! :) Wherever you see a glimpse of yourself in this story, grasp onto the hope that is there. The Father in this story is actually God himself, and Jesus makes it very clear that He gives up on no one, no not one! He specializes in restoring brokenness, and re-writing the stories that we’ve tried to write on our own. Let yourself become a part of His story, the one that impacts the world.

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