The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

Against my own best intentions, I find myself continually striving to acquire power. When I give advice, I want to know whether it is being followed; when I offer help, I want to be thanked; when I give money, I want it to be used my way; when I do something good, I want to be remembered.

Can I give without wanting anything in return, love without putting any conditions on my love?

can see three ways to a truly compassionate fatherhood: grief, forgiveness, and generosity.

It is this divine forgiveness that I have to practice in my daily life. It calls me to keep stepping over all my arguments that say forgiveness is unwise, unhealthy, and impractical. It challenges me to step over all my needs for gratitude and compliments. Finally, it demands of me that I step over that wounded part of my heart that feels hurt and wronged and that wants to stay in control and put a few conditions between me and the one whom I am asked to forgive. This “stepping over” is the authentic discipline of forgiveness.

Generosity creates the family it believes in.

As the Father, I have to believe that all that the human heart desires can be found at home. As the Father, I have to be free from the need to wander around curiously and to catch up with what I might otherwise perceive as missed childhood opportunities.

Life in community does not keep the darkness away.

Jealousy, anger, the feeling of being rejected or neglected, the sense of not truly belonging—all of these emerged in the context of a community striving for a life of forgiveness, reconciliation, and healing.

Can I let the younger and the elder son grow in me to the maturity of the compassionate father?