1/22/26

"And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying,
'This man receives sinners and eats with them.'"
Luke 15:2

The Pharisees' unspoken question hung in the air:
"Why does He eat with sinners?"

They couldn't understand Jesus.
So He told them a story—
not about sinners,
but about a Father.

"Give me my inheritance now," the younger son demanded.
The ultimate rejection.
A declaration of death.

With riches in hand, the son rushed to Gentile lands—
a world his father trained him to avoid.

A world of
Pigs.
Idols.
Pagan feasts.
Temple beds.
Unclean food.
Unclean work.

He didn't wander into it.
He wanted it.

He burned through his fortune for a moment's warmth—
and when it was gone,
he wallowed with pigs,
craving even one bite of their food.

Then hunger broke the spell.
He remembered his father's bread,
his father's warmth,
his father's mercy.

He turned home.

And the father?
He didn't beg.
He didn't chase.
He didn't send spies.

He waited.
And he watched.

Then—movement on the horizon.
Just a flicker.
So common.
So forgettable.

But something in the shape…
the tilt of the shoulders…
the rhythm of the stride…

Hope stirred—
thin,
fragile,
breathless.

The father's heart erupted.
He leaped to his feet,
robe in his fists,
running toward the son
he once thought dead—
now alive.

And that's why Jesus eats with sinners—
because the Father watches like this,
waits like this,
runs like this,
and rejoices like this
when a dead child walks over the horizon
alive again.

You don't know this about Jesus—
He ate with sinners to reveal His Father's heart.