In the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32), Jesus gives us a picture we dare not turn away from. A son goes to his father and demands what he believes is his right. The father, with sorrow in his eyes, grants it. The son leaves for a far country, intoxicated by the noise of sin and the wine of the world. For a time the music is loud and the cups are full, yet the sweetness turns bitter and the music fades into the groan of hunger. All is gone, and he is left with nothing. He takes work feeding swine, longing even for their food, and no one gives him anything (v.15–16). The father does not chase him into the darkness. He waits. He longs. But the son must first come to himself before he can come home (v.17).

In the stench of the pigsty the young man finally sees the truth. His condition pierces his heart like an arrow (Lamentations 3:40). His pride is broken and his hope rests only in mercy. He says, I am no longer worthy to be called your son, make me like one of your hired servants (Luke 15:19). He rises, not in strength but in weakness, not in triumph but in repentance (James 4:10). Step by step, through dust and shame, he walks the long road home (Micah 6:8). The father sees him while he is still far off, runs to him, embraces him, and restores him fully (Luke 15:20).

Church, do you not see? We are that son. We have taken the treasures of heaven, the sharp and living Word of God (Hebrews 4:12), the glory of His presence, the power of His Spirit (Acts 1:8), the holy calling to be a set apart people (1 Peter 2:9), and we have squandered them. We have gone into the far country, embraced its ways (Romans 12:2), and lived as it lives. We have traded holiness for popularity (Hebrews 12:14), truth for comfort (2 Timothy 4:3–4), and the fear of God for the applause of men (John 12:43).

Now the banquet is over and the gold has turned to dust in our hands. Our garments are stained and our lamps are dim (Matthew 25:8). This is the state of the modern church. We are in the pigsty (Isaiah 1:4–6), trying to call it blessing while the stench rises to heaven. And yet, even now, the voice of the Lord is heard, saying, Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28). Return to Me, and I will return to you (Malachi 3:7). Be zealous and repent (Revelation 3:19).

Leaders, shepherds of the flock (Jeremiah 23:1–2), you will give an account before God. Tear your hearts and not your garments (Joel 2:13). Weep between the porch and the altar (Joel 2:17). Let your tears be rivers upon your cheeks (Psalm 126:5). Let cries of repentance rise like incense before the throne (Psalm 141:2). The hour is late and the call is urgent.

We must come to ourselves. We must take the road of humiliation back to the Father’s house, for His thoughts are not our thoughts, nor are His ways our ways (Isaiah 55:8). If we will humble ourselves under His mighty hand (1 Peter 5:6), He will lift us up. He will heal our wounds (Hosea 6:1–2) and restore the joy of His salvation (Psalm 51:12). But if we refuse, the pigsty will be our dwelling still and the stench will only deepen.

The question is not whether the Father is willing to receive us. The question is whether we will rise from the filth, bow low before Him, and begin the journey home. The door stands open. The Father waits. The time to move is now.