When God Ran

He ran to me
He took me in his arms
Held my head to his chest
Said my son’s come home again
Lifted my face
Wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in his voice he said
Son do you know I still love you
He caught me by surprise when God ran

As a child, I heard a song called “When God Ran” by Phillips, Craig and Dean on Christian radio. The song draws from the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15, focusing on the running father, an often-overlooked theme. I’m still intrigued by the last line of the chorus, which emphasizes the prodigal’s surprise at his father’s sprint. Why was the father’s pursuit shocking? Though the Bible speaks to modern readers, it was not originally written to a modern audience. To grasp the radical nature of the sprinting father, we must examine the first-century Jewish cultural context because we are distanced from this parable in both time and ethos.

In the well-known parable of the prodigal son found in Luke’s gospel, Jesus tells the story of a young man who asks his father for his share of the inheritance. He then squanders the money recklessly by living a self-indulgent lifestyle. With his fortune completely spent, he is forced into the humiliating position of working as a hired hand feeding pigs. He becomes so hungry that he longs to eat the very food he is giving the pigs. Coming to his senses, he realizes that even his father’s servants have better lives. He decides to return home, beg for forgiveness, and ask to work as a servant. The prodigal would have expected disdain and shame from his father upon his return. But Luke notes a very different reaction from the Father. He writes, “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20). Instead of condemnation, his overjoyed father warmly embraces him with open and forgiving arms. In fact, the father runs to meet him.

The custom at that time dictated that if a Jewish son squandered his family’s inheritance among Gentiles and then dared to return home, the community would perform the Kezazah ceremony – literally meaning “the cutting off.”[1] This ritual involved breaking a large pot in front of the rebel while proclaiming that he was now cut off from his people. Afterwards, the community would sever all ties with the individual. By requesting his inheritance and squandering the money, the prodigal was effectively cutting ties with his community. In losing his inheritance among Gentiles, he forfeited any path back home. He relinquished all his rights and should expect no one to take him in.

The father would have understood the shame his son would face returning home, considering the practice of Kezazah. Breaking tradition, he dashes down the road, intent on reconciling with his son and sparing him from Kezazah.  At the time, a respected elder would normally walk slowly and with dignity. Yet this father urgently races toward his son, grasping his tunic and exposing his legs in an unbecoming manner. This sprint would have been embarrassing, but the father was undeterred, nobly taking the shame upon himself to spare his child such humiliation.

The parallels between this parable and God’s pursuit of His children should resonate profoundly with modern readers. Just as the father eagerly ran to welcome his repentant son, God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving every kind of sin and rebellion (Numbers 14:18), seeking out His lost sheep (Ezekiel 34:11) and rejoicing over each one found (Matthew 18:12). Though we are undeserving, He removes our transgressions, for, as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love (Psalm 103:11-12). Like the running father, Jesus bore our shame and suffered to draw us close, sanctifying us through His sacrifice (Hebrews 13:12-13).

References

[1] Kenneth E. Bailey, The Cross & the Prodigal: Luke 15 Through the Eyes of Middle Eastern Peasants. Pg.52-53