Coming to yourself

The son is sitting in a pig field, hungry enough to envy the animals. Then something happens that doesn’t happen to him from the outside.

Scripture — Luke 15:17–20 (OTB)

When he realised his situation, he said, “How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am perishing with hunger! I will arise and go to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am not worthy to be called your son any longer; treat me as one of your hired servants.” So he arose and went to his father.

He realised his situation. People have long called this moment “coming to himself.” He woke up. He saw where he was, and he remembered where home was.

Look at what he did not do

Read the passage again and notice everything that is missing.

He did not get a better job first. He did not wait until he’d saved enough to pay some of it back. He didn’t wash, find new clothes, or get his life in order. He didn’t wait until he felt like a son again. Nothing about his situation changed before he stood up. He was still hungry, still dirty, still the person who had wasted everything.

He got up and went.

That is the single most important thing in this whole class, so it’s worth saying slowly: you do not fix yourself before you come back.

Self-repair is what already failed

Most people who want to come back to God have a plan that sounds responsible: First I’ll stop doing the thing. I’ll get my act together for a few months. Then, when I’m in better shape, I’ll go back to church, start praying again, and it’ll be real this time.

Be honest about how that plan has gone before. For most of us it is exactly the plan that failed. We tried to get ourselves clean enough to approach God, and we couldn’t, and every failure pushed the return further off. The plan sounds humble. In practice it keeps you in the pig field waiting to become someone who deserves to leave it.

Coming home isn’t the reward for having changed. Coming home is where the changing starts. The rest of this story will show you who does the changing, and it isn’t the son.

“I will arise”

What the son did have was a decision and a direction. I will arise and go to my father. Not a feeling, and not a plan for self-improvement. A step toward a person.

That is what obedience looks like at the very beginning. Small, concrete, pointed at the Father. For you it might be one of these:

• Pray one honest prayer, out loud, today, instead of someday.
• Open a Bible for the first time in years and read one short story.
• Tell one person who follows Jesus: I want to come back, and I don’t know how.
• Delete the thing, or leave the place, that you already know is keeping you in the far country. Not as a way of earning your welcome; as a way of turning your feet toward home.

Any one of these is a step. None of them is a cleanup. You’ll still arrive dirty. That’s the point.

And he still had his speech ready

You may have noticed the son rehearsed a speech on the way: I am not worthy… treat me as one of your hired servants. He was going home, but he was going home expecting to be put on probation. That speech is so important that the next chapter is entirely about it. For now, just notice: he went anyway, still carrying his shame. You can too.

Recite this

He didn’t clean up. He got up.

Try it this week

Pick one step from the list above, the smallest one you will actually do, and do it this week. Don’t pick the heroic one. Pick the real one.

I will ________________ on ________________, and I will tell ________________ that I did it.