Run To The Father

Do you have those core memories from childhood that always warm your heart?

I spent this past weekend with my dad, and as we reminisced on childhood and looked at old pictures, I remembered one of my favorite “core memories” of my relationship with him.

My grandparents have a short stairwell in their home leading to their front door. I remember spending summers staying at my grandparents’ house during the day, and waiting for my dad to pick me up once he finished his work. As the afternoon began to stretch into the evening, I would eagerly wait to hear his car pull into the driveway; then, I would run to the top of the steps and wait for him. He’d walk in the front door, stand at the bottom of the steps, and put out his arms. With butterflies in my stomach, I’d close my little five year old eyes, and JUMP! I’d gleefully scream as he would catch me, give me a hug, and set me back down. And of course - in classic little kid fashion - I’d run back to the top of the steps and make him do it at least a dozen more times.

This memory is so special because it’s more than just a fun moment as a child - it is indicative of the nature of my relationship with my father. He has been a consistent source of support and safety, and his arms have always been there to catch me. Whether it was from a jump from the top steps, after a failure in school, or amidst struggles as an adult, I’ve always known that if I make it to his arms, I’ll be okay.

One of my favorite worship songs is called, “Run to the Father,” by Cody Carnes. The chorus says:

I run to the Father

I fall into grace

I'm done with the hiding

No reason to wait

My heart needs a surgeon

My soul needs a friend

So I'll run to the Father

Again and again

This powerful song reflects the truths found in one of Jesus’ most famous parables: the story of the Prodigal Son. In this parable, a son abandons his father by taking his inheritance and leaving his family, a betrayal worthy of death in that cultural context. After gambling away all the money, he returns home dejected and terrified, fully expecting the anger and wrath of his father. Instead, his dad defies societal standards and runs to his child. Again, in this cultural context, running was seen as inappropriate for a dignified man. Yet the father proves that he has a desperate, persistent love for his child:

20 And (the son) 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. 21 And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.

- Luke 15:20-24

The father runs to his son and shows his unending love. It’s not hard to see the symbolism in this passage. Jesus tells us something powerful about the love of God the Father - He isn’t turned off by our mistakes, shortcomings, or failures. Even when we betray Him, He opens His arms to us, and He welcomes us back home.

When I fail, when my world feels like it’s falling to pieces, when I can’t imagine how God could still love a sinner like me - I think of this parable, and I think of jumping off those steps into my dad’s arms as a child. My dad didn’t interrogate me before catching me, questioning if I had been well behaved that day. It didn’t matter what my five year old track record was. Even on my worst day, he wasn’t going to let me fall. His arms kept me safe.

Friend, would you let God be your safe space today? He isn’t looking at a list and checking it twice. His arms are open to you. Just like my earthly father, just like Jesus’ parable, God the Father wants to pick you up, keep you safe, and whisper in your ear, “Welcome home, my child, I love you.”

Let’s run to Him today.

AMEN.

Cristina Schmitter

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