Lord, we’re just a bunch of prodigals at the end of the week,
dragging our sorry feet back to the road called grace,
toward the warming light of Christ
left on for us there on the porch,
us a bunch of prodigals throwing off our filthy rags
of performance & perfectionism & personas
to fall into the wide open arms of the neck-craning
Prodigal Father
who holds us gently
and clothes us completely
in an extravagant acceptance, a lavish love,
and the most costly embrace that is guaranteed to carry us
through anything —
until we get back Home.
In the name of the only One who loves us to death —
and to the fullest, realest life…
Amen.
Ann Voskamp, Canadian author
www.aholyexperience.com/
_____________________
And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.
prayer & verse 
