He Came to Himself — And So Must We

A scroll for the parents holding the line when love means letting go

There’s a part of the prodigal son story that we rarely talk about.

Not the pigpen.
Not the welcome home.
But that moment before he leaves—
The moment he looks his father in the eye and says:

“Father, give me the share of the property that is coming to me.”
— Luke 15:12 (ESV)

It doesn’t say there was an argument. But if you’re a parent, you already know—
there was tension.
There was pain.
There was a heart already gone long before the feet walked away.

Sometimes they don’t just ask for distance.
They demand your blessing over rebellion.
They want you to affirm a life that contradicts everything God said is holy—and still call it love.

And when you don’t…
You’re the one called biased. Hypocrite. Outdated. Unsafe. Unloving.

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Many of us tried to love them without compromising truth.
We thought, “If I stay gentle, if I don’t push, if I just keep the door open…”
But what it turned into—was a shallow peace.
A quiet pretending.
A relationship that wasn’t really a relationship at all.

There were no real conversations.
Only guarded ones.
They felt it.
You felt it.

Because truth can’t sit quietly forever.

Eventually, the moment comes when silence feels like agreement—and your soul knows:

“Can two walk together, unless they are agreed?”
— Amos 3:3 (NKJV)

That’s where the line must be drawn.

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That doesn’t mean the love stops.
But the compromise does.

Not because you’re cold.
But because the Father in Luke 15 didn’t chase his son either.

“And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living.”
— Luke 15:12b–13 (ESV)

He let him go.
Not out of cruelty—but because you can’t argue someone back into truth.

Some only learn when they see what the world really is.
And the pigpen… is sometimes the mercy of God.

Rock bottom has a purpose.

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And here’s what the Father didn’t do—even back in the days when there were no iPhones, texts, or Facebook.
He still didn’t chase him.

• He didn’t send servants to check on him.
• He didn’t write him a letter.
• He didn’t travel to the far country himself, even though his heart ached.
• He didn’t spy on him, try to stay connected through friends, or hunt him down with guilt.
• He waited.

Not because he didn’t love him—but because chasing him would’ve gotten in the way of what only God could do.

Some parents need to hear this:
The son didn’t come home because the father found better words.
He came home because the famine hit and the lies collapsed.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood,
but against principalities, against powers,
against the rulers of the darkness of this age,
against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”
— Ephesians 6:12 (NKJV)

That’s why arguing doesn’t work.
That’s why trying to make them “see it your way” doesn’t bear fruit.
Because what they’ve built isn’t just an opinion—it’s a spiritual wall.
A false identity.
And behind that wall is a power that must be fought in the Spirit.

So what do loving parents do?

We stop debating.
We stop chasing.
We fast.
We pray.
We fight in the heavenlies—while we wait on earth.
Because we’re not just contending for peace…
We’re contending for souls.

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And here’s something else we can’t miss:

The father in this parable is not just a good example of parenting.
He is a picture of God Himself—the Perfect Father.

Jesus didn’t make up a fictional dad to give us parenting advice.
He was pulling back the veil on God’s heart.

So when we read this, we’re not just seeing what we should do.
We’re seeing what He does.
This is how the Father loves:

• Full of mercy, but never compromising truth
• Always watching, but never enabling sin
• Ready to forgive, but only when the heart turns

That’s not harsh. That’s holy.

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“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’”
— Luke 15:17–19 (ESV)

He didn’t just come to his senses.
He remembered the character of the father.
He remembered truth.
He remembered home.

That’s the hope we hold.

We don’t beg.
We don’t bend.
We prepare—not with an open door to sin…
But with a robe ready for repentance.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”
— Luke 15:20 (ESV)

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To every parent going through this:
You’re not alone.
And no, you’re not cruel.
Standing your ground in love and truth is not rejection.
It’s righteousness.

The Father never changed for the son.
And neither should you.