Ruth’s Story

But when he came to his senses, he said, “How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men….’” But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him, and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him, and kissed him. (Luke 15:17-20)

Not long ago, I heard a pastor speak on this story of the prodigal son.

In it, a son asks his father for his share of the estate and squanders it on a wild life far from home. The son runs out of money, the land he lives in falls into a famine, and he is forced to work feeding swine. He becomes so hungry that he longs to eat the very pods that he feeds the pigs, but no one gives him anything. Only then does he consider returning to his father, although he feels he cannot claim the status of son anymore, but only that of a laborer. Yet when he does return, his father runs out and embraces him, despite the son’s filthy clothes, rejoicing and kissing him over and over again.

The pastor lingered over the abundant love the father showed to his wretched son. To draw a comparison, the pastor told how his wife had urged him, as a father, to comfort his crying son with a hug. Hearing his name called, the tear-stricken boy lifted his face, runny nose and all, and turned to his father with open arms. In his clean white shirt the father gingerly hugged his son.

The pastor pointed out that, unlike human fathers, our Heavenly Father accepts us, no matter how foul we are. He loves us unconditionally, without hesitation, and longs to show His love to us.

Unlike human fathers, our Heavenly Father accepts us, no matter how foul we are. He loves us unconditionally, without hesitation, and longs to show His love to us.

As the pastor spoke, I told myself that the story of this straying son was mine. I painfully remembered all the things I had embraced, thinking they could fill my heart’s emptiness. I had been searching for worldly enjoyment, and keeping the company of people who were after the same.

All along I had known deep down inside that I was filling my time with these activities as a way of purposely ignoring the Lord. After pursuing these pleasures for a while, I felt just as empty as when I had started. Disillusioned, I stopped my chase, relying purely on my own self-restraint.

Coming to my senses

As I listened to the parable, however, I saw that my decision was simply too shallow; turning away from empty things was not enough. I needed not only to turn away from them but also to turn toward God.

I was ashamed; it hurt that I could not love this God as much as He loved me. For a long time, I had been ashamed to be called a Christian. For example, I was self-conscious about praying before a meal in front of friends or strangers.

To disguise my prayers I would rub my eyes, pretending they were irritated, or bend down below the table to pick up a book or a napkin I had purposely dropped. Then friends would always ask the embarrassing question, “Are you okay, Ruth?” I burned at my own denial of the Lord, but would respond with a nervous half-laugh, “Yes, I’m fine.”

The fact of the matter was that I was not fine. I continually felt an emptiness of heart and an unbearably sad loneliness. Always in the dark and groping for solidity and direction in my life, I reached for something specific but did not know what I wanted that something to be.

What I yearned for was God, although I did not know it. But, before I heard this sermon on the prodigal son, I could not comprehend the Lord’s love for me. Since the age of six, I had been told countless times through Bible stories, sermons and prayers that Jesus Christ died for me and loves me. Yet, I still could not understand what the Lord did for me on the Cross.

What’s more, I’d been told that He offers me eternal life, but I hadn’t understood that eternal life is to know the Father, and Jesus Christ, the Son whom He has sent—to know Him as you would know a best friend.

The loving Father

As the pastor spoke about the great lovingkindness of the Lord, I shed tears out of regret for my sins, both deeds and intentions.

I finally saw the Lord for who He really is: the father of the parable who waited for me with welcoming arms, if only I would turn to Him. He was not, as I had thought before, a distant and abstract being waiting to judge and condemn me for my sins, which even I knew were wrong.

The Lord’s love for me was true. He never once turned away even after I deliberately chose to live for myself and defy Him. He was willing and ready to forgive me, if I asked Him.

The Father’s all-embracing and unchanging love showed me the half-hearted, incomplete and unrepentant qualities of my own “turning” toward God before I heard this sermon. The Lord’s love gave me a way out of my emptiness: a chance to turn to Him fully and receive forgiveness.

This time I could not refuse Him whose love I saw as a reality and who, out of His love, longed to have me share in His riches. Only when I realized this could I respond by giving Him myself and loving Him with all my heart, and with all my soul, and with all my might.

If you would like to know the Lord and the riches of His love and mercy, pursue Him who loved you first and sought you first by dying for your sins. For the Lord God Himself declares that He has “plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope,” if you will search for Him with all your heart (Jeremiah 29:11).

Do not neglect the Lord, as I did, and “if you would hear His voice, do not harden your hearts” (Psalm 95:7-8). Rather, won’t you accept His invitation and let Him show you who He is?

Ruth Ku ‘93