Embracing the Father's Mercy

As we mark this Saturday in the Third Week of Lent, the Gospel from Luke 15:1-3, 11-32 hits close to home. It's the story we've all heard the Parable of the Lost Son, or as I like to call it, the Merciful Father. Tax collectors and sinners were crowding around Jesus to listen, but the Pharisees and scribes grumbled, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." So Jesus shares this parable: A father has two sons. The younger one demands his inheritance early, takes off to a distant country, squanders it all on wild living, and ends up starving among pigs. Humbled and broken, he decides to return home, ready to beg for a job as a hired hand. But the father spots him from afar, runs to him, embraces him, and throws a feast, saying, "This son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found."

Meanwhile, the older son resents it all, he's been faithful, but never got a party. The father pleads, "Everything I have is yours," reminding him that mercy doesn't diminish what's already given; it celebrates restoration.

We do get lost and tend to squander all the blessings God bestows onto us. We leave the Church, abandon the sacraments, neglect God's grace, and turn to our own ways which at times leads us to destruction or even death. These ways often bring division and discouragement, falling straight into the devil's plans. But our God, being so loving and merciful, still hopes and waits for our return. He says in the Gospel that He didn't come for the saved people of the house of Israel but for the lost sheep. And who are they? It's me and you. We are all sinners, and it's people like us that the Lord comes to seek. He becomes overwhelmed with joy whenever we turn back from our evil ways and return to Him, there's more joy in heaven over one repentant sinner than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.

Even if your sins were as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow (echoing St. Faustina's Diary and Isaiah 1:18). God's love and mercy has no boundaries, it's freely open to everyone, even to the most hardened sinners. It is we who fear to approach Him for pardon; we tend to feel so guilty that we hesitate to draw near, especially in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Yet He keeps calling us to come home, to come back, for He is waiting to embrace and kiss us, dress us with new robes and garments of grace and the Holy Spirit. Let us approach His mercy today. For the blood and water that gushed forth from His heart were to cleanse us from all evil. Our God is more than willing to forgive us, but it is we who are too afraid to approach Him.

This reading couldn't come at a better time in our Lenten journey. It's easy to feel like that younger son; wandering off into distractions, chasing quick fixes or material things, only to find ourselves empty and far from home. Or maybe we're the older brother, dutiful in our routines but harboring resentment when others seem to "get away" with less effort. The parable reminds us that God's mercy isn't earned; it's freely given, no matter how far we've strayed.

In my own walk, I've seen this play out. Just some few days ago, a friend shared how he hit rock bottom with vices, fears and bad choices, feeling unworthy to return to church, he did not feel like he deserved the mercy of God. But like the father in the story, God doesn't wait for perfect apologies, He runs to us. That's the heart of Lent: not just giving up something small, but turning back, confessing our wanderings, and letting His embrace heal us. And for those of us who stay "faithful," it's a call to drop the grudges, to rejoice in others' homecomings without comparing.

As we pray through this season, let's ask for the grace to be like the merciful father, quick to forgive, eager to restore. If you're carrying guilt from past mistakes, come home today; the feast is waiting. If bitterness lingers toward someone who's "lost," let it go and join the celebration. In the end, we're all prodigals in need of that same mercy.

Lord Jesus, like the lost son, we've squandered Your gifts at times. Thank You for the Father's unending mercy that welcomes us back. Help us to run home without fear, to forgive as we've been forgiven, and to celebrate every soul's return. In this Lenten time, draw us closer to Your heart. Amen.