Prodigal God. Prodigal sons.

Long ago, there lived a man who was crucified for being too loving and too lovable. And strange to relate, I met Him thrice yesterday. The first time, He was asking a 'policeman' not to take a prostitute to prison; the second time, He was drinking wine with an outcast; and the third time, He was having a 'fistfight' with a promoter inside the church. (Khalil Gibran)

Dear Loving Father, forgive me for pretending to be more spiritual than I am. Forgive me for begrudging Your lavish love and long-suffering mercies toward sinners. I confess I have been wayward at heart. I repent of my foolish sense of superiority. Forgive me for self- righteously judging, despising, and rejecting those who do not perform like me, those who have walked out on family and faith.

To my shame, I have not served You out of joy and love, but out of duty and fear just to comply. Pluck out the hidden roots of spiritual pride and deception in my life. Create within me a right spirit and a compassionate love so that I may always—with open heart and open arms—accept and acknowledge, applaud and affirm every sinner who comes home. In Jesus Name, Amen.

(Adapted from FOCUS ON THE FAMILY, Bringing Home the Prodigals / Prayer for the Elder Brother)