As the son had left and squandered all of his money, we can see in Luke 15:20 that the father saw the son while he was “a long way off,” and when he saw him, he was filled with compassion and ran to embrace him. The question we need to ask is how long the father looked to the horizon for his son? How often did he stop to look for his lost son? While Jesus doesn’t explicitly say, you cannot help but feel it. This is a father who never stopped praying. Fathers who watch like that, whose hearts remain open like that, and who hold a hope that refuses to die are sustained by prayer.

 

From 1964 to 1966, Henri Nouwen, a renowned Dutch Catholic priest, professor, writer, and theologian, spent time right here in Topeka, Kansas, at the Menninger Clinic in the Fellows Program, which focused on clergy and pastoral counseling and psychology. While his season in Topeka was short, it deeply shaped his understanding of brokenness, healing, and God's compassion. Later in his life, he reflected on the parable of the Prodigal Son with the help of Rembrandt’s painting, The Return of the Prodigal Son (1669). In his writing, he describes a vivid depiction of the father’s gentle, open hands embracing his son, who had been lost but was now found. This embrace, captured by Rembrandt, captures exactly the kind of love the Father has for us, as we have all gone astray. He wrote,

 

“Jesus wants to make it clear that the God of whom He speaks is a God of compassion who joyously welcomes repentant sinners into His house… If God forgives the sinners, then certainly those who have faith in God should do the same… If God is compassionate, then certainly those who love God should be compassionate as well.”

 

Nouwen captures the heart of the Father, but underneath that compassion, there is something we cannot afford to miss—the Father never lets go. And prayer is often what keeps our grip on Him from loosening.

 

At TRM, we see this reality every single day. We meet people who have walked long roads marked by loss, addiction, trauma, and brokenness. And behind so many of their stories, there is often someone praying for them. It could be a mother who never gave up, a grandmother who kept interceding, a father who continued to hope when everything else said to stop. And sometimes, those who are lost never arrive fully back home, but they are closer than they have ever been this side of eternity. That is the power of prayer.

 

But here is something we have to be honest about. Back in the days of Jesus’ parable, there were no rescue missions to run to. There was only shame, distance, and the weight of failure hanging in the air for everyone to see, which makes the father’s response even more powerful. He did not wait for the son to clean himself up. He did not let the community define the moment of what should be done to the son. And he did not allow shame to have the final word for his son. Instead, while he could still see that his son was far away, he ran to him. In doing so, he shielded his son from the mockery, the whispers, and the judgment that would have followed him all the way home.

 

We are faced with that same choice today. We can stand at a distance and critique someone who is homeless, dirty, or desperate. We can shake our heads and expect them to disappear. We can contribute—subtly or overtly—to the shame they already carry.

 

Or… We can run.

 

We can move toward people in the middle of their desperation. We can refuse to enhance the mockery. And we can choose to cover, protect, and restore dignity when everything else in the world is trying to strip it away. Because, let it be clear, waiting until things “get bad enough” is not compassion—it’s avoidance. The son might have waited until he was at rock bottom. All he wanted was to be in the presence of his father, and if that meant to be hired on as a servant, then so be it. But the father did not wait for his son to be at that point—he ran to him the moment he saw his son coming home.

 

Prayer is what positions our hearts to respond like that. It keeps us in conversation with the Lord, but it also keeps us from growing numb and becoming cynical. It reminds us that every person we encounter is someone the Father is still watching the horizon for.

 

This Father’s Day, we celebrate the fathers and father-figures who reflect a glimpse of God’s heart, but we also recognize the quiet, unceasing prayers that so many have been carrying for years. The believing, hoping, and trusting that God is still at work. So, here is the question for all of us—who are we still praying for? And when the opportunity of redemption and return comes, are we standing at a distance, or are we running?

 

At TRM, we believe that prayer cannot be just something we do, but it is foundational to everything we do. Why? Because transformation does not begin when someone has it all together. It begins when compassion meets them in the middle of their story of wanting to come home. So, this month, as we move toward Father’s Day, join us to lean into the power of prayer. Pray for those who are far from home. Ask God to give you the courage to see them as He sees them, and when the opportunity comes, to not just watch, but to run to them when we see them.