The Return of the Prodigal Son Anniversary Edition: A Special Two-in-One Volume, including Home Tonight

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

I was, indeed, the son exhausted from long travels; I wanted to be embraced; I was looking for a home where I could feel safe. The son-come-home was all I was and all that I wanted to be. For so long I had been going from place to place: confronting, beseeching, admonishing, and consoling. Now I desired only to rest safely in a place where I could feel a sense of belonging, a place where I could feel at home.

the platform where the father embraces his kneeling son. It is the place of light, the place of truth, the place of love. It is the place where I so much want to be, but am so fearful of being. It is the place where I will receive all I desire, all that I ever hoped for, all that I will ever need, but it is also the place where I have to let go of all I most want to hold on to. It is the place that confronts me with the fact that truly accepting love, forgiveness, and healing is often much harder than giving it. It is the place beyond earning, deserving, and rewarding. It is the place of surrender and complete trust.

I am called to enter into the inner sanctuary of my own being where God has chosen to dwell. The only way to that place is prayer, unceasing prayer. Many struggles and much pain can clear the way, but I am certain that only unceasing prayer can let me enter it.

“Blessed are the eyes that see what you see.” Both Simeon and the father of the returning son carry within themselves that mysterious light by which they see. It is an inner light, deeply hidden, but radiating an all-pervasive tender beauty. This inner light, however, had remained hidden for a long time. For many years it remained unreachable for Rembrandt. Only gradually and through much anguish did he come to know that light within himself and, through himself, in those he painted.

In the context of a compassionate embrace, our brokenness may appear beautiful, but our brokenness has no other beauty but the beauty that comes from the compassion that surrounds it.

love is a totally free gift.

God has never pulled back his arms, never withheld his blessing, never stopped considering his son the Beloved One. But the Father couldn’t compel his son to stay home. He couldn’t force his love on the Beloved. He had to let him go in freedom, even though he knew the pain it would cause both his son and himself. It was love itself that prevented him from keeping his son home at all cost. It was love itself that allowed him to let his son find his own life, even with the risk of losing it. Here the mystery of my life is unveiled. I am loved so much that I am left free to leave home. The blessing is there from the beginning. I have left it and keep on leaving it. But the Father is always looking for me with outstretched arms to receive me back and whisper again in my ear: “You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.”

Real loneliness comes when we have lost all sense of having things in common.

Then, when finally the friendship broke down completely, I had to choose between destroying myself or trusting that the love I was looking for did, in fact, exist…back home! A voice, weak as it seemed, whispered that no human being would ever be able to give me the love I craved, that no friendship, no intimate relationship, no community would ever be able to satisfy the deepest needs of my wayward heart. That soft but persistent voice spoke to me about my vocation, my early commitments, the many gifts I had received in my father’s house. That voice called me “son.”

But when God created man and woman in his own image, he saw that “it was very good,” and, despite the dark voices, no man or woman can ever change that.

“Unless you turn and become like little children you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” Jesus does not ask me to remain a child but to become one. Becoming a child is living toward a second innocence: not the innocence of the newborn infant, but the innocence that is reached through conscious choices.

it is clear that the hardest conversion to go through is the conversion of the one who stayed home.

Joy and resentment cannot coexist.

one of life’s hardest spiritual choices: to trust or not to trust in God’s all-forgiving love. I myself am the only one who can make that choice.

I have to let go of all comparison, all rivalry and competition, and surrender to the Father’s love. This requires a leap of faith because I have little experience of non-comparing love and do not know the healing power of such a love.

The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and have is given to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy. Gratitude as a discipline involves a conscious choice. I can choose to be grateful even when my emotions and feelings are still steeped in hurt and resentment.

But his love is too great to do any of that. It cannot force, constrain, push, or pull. It offers the freedom to reject that love or to love in return. It is precisely the immensity of the divine love that is the source of the divine suffering. God, creator of heaven and earth, has chosen to be, first and foremost, a Father.

The Father wants simply to let them know that the love they have searched for in such distorted ways has been, is, and always will be there for them. The Father wants to say, more with his hands than with his mouth: “You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.” He is the shepherd, “feeding his flock, gathering lambs in his arms, holding them against his breast.”

I am convinced that many of my emotional problems would melt as snow in the sun if I could let the truth of God’s motherly non-comparing love permeate my heart.

God loves us before any human person can show love to us. He loves us with a “first” love, an unlimited, unconditional love, wants us to be his beloved children, and tells us to become as loving as himself.

It might sound strange, but God wants to find me as much as, if not more than, I want to find God. Yes, God needs me as much as I need God. God is not the patriarch who stays home, doesn’t move, and expects his children to come to him, apologize for their aberrant behavior, beg for forgiveness, and promise to do better. To the contrary, he leaves the house, ignoring his dignity by running toward them, pays no heed to apologies and promises of change, and brings them to the table richly prepared for them.

There is no suggestion at all that these signs of the world’s darkness will ever be absent. But still, God’s joy can be ours in the midst of it all. It is the joy of belonging to the household of God whose love is stronger than death and who empowers us to be in the world while already belonging to the kingdom of joy.

But when I truly believe that I have already returned and that my Father has already dressed me with a cloak, ring, and sandals, I can remove the mask of the sadness from my heart and dispel the lie it tells about my true self and claim the truth with the inner freedom of the child of God.

As long as we belong to this world, we will remain subject to its competitive ways and expect to be rewarded for all the good we do. But when we belong to God, who loves us without conditions, we can live as he does. The great conversion called for by Jesus is to move from belonging to the world to belonging to God.

But grief is the discipline of the heart that sees the sin of the world, and knows itself to be the sorrowful price of freedom without which love cannot bloom.

But God’s forgiveness is unconditional; it comes from a heart that does not demand anything for itself, a heart that is completely empty of self-seeking.

Grief allows me to see beyond my wall and realize the immense suffering that results from human lostness. It opens my heart to a genuine solidarity with my fellow humans. Forgiveness is the way to step over the wall and welcome others into my heart without expecting anything in return. Only when I remember that I am the Beloved Child can I welcome those who want to return with the same compassion as that with which the Father welcomes me.

We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey. —Teilhard de Chardin

Whatever happens to me in life, I must believe that somewhere, In the mess or madness of it all, There is a sacred potential— A possibility for wondrous redemption In the embracing of all that is.

Bit by intelligible bit, a vocation lets us express our healthiest instincts, our noblest desires….In small things and in large, we can attend to the haunting inner summons of our soul.

Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly. Let it cut more deep. Let it ferment and season you, As few human or even divine ingredients can. Something missing in my heart tonight Has made my eyes soft, My voice, so tender, My need for God, Absolutely clear.

To live authentically each of us must be aware of our “within.” We need to become conscious of feeling content, safe, and in the right place, and of feeling lonely, disillusioned, or mildly depressed. In front of turmoil, what do we do? Wise teachers tell us to be very attentive at these moments, to be open to “signs,” feelings, comments, a line in a book, unexpected meetings or events that may move us to consider new directions, to refind balance, and to remain fully alive. Spiritual signs usually have four characteristics: They are simple not complicated, persistent, seemingly impossible, and always about others as well as ourselves. Be attentive when you experience these on your journey. Try to recognize an opportunity as well as a difficulty. Try not to respond too quickly. Pray for wisdom. Seek advice and refuse to act until you have external affirmation for your direction. Take time to believe in your free choice before you move forward in a new direction.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone. Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Stand together yet not too near together for the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

Life may be brimming over with experiences, but somewhere, deep inside, all of us carry a vast and fruitful loneliness wherever we go.

But even when it hurts immensely and I move toward depression, this amazing truth about who I really am remains. I am loved. I know this not because of an intellectual or psychological experience, but I know it from a place deep within. I am a good person, known and cherished by the One who brought me to my existence. Before I was hurt, I was a beloved. I always have the option, despite my wounded feelings, to turn and reclaim who I really am. This truth about myself that I claim has been constant, a given, since before I was born. I am the favored child of a loving Creator. Jesus knew who he was and was thus able to live the days of his passion in agony and peace. He didn’t need to blame others or himself, because he understood the brokenness of those who caused him pain. Jesus, in the knowledge that he was loved, was able to stand in his pain and forgive those who wounded him.

In the experience of the dark night, Saint John of the Cross gradually understood that the Spirit will never be owned or grasped in the affections of the human heart because God’s Spirit is so much greater than our human capacity.

It is paradoxical but real. The more I find intimacy with the Creator of my life, the more loneliness I experience. And at the very same time this loneliness offers me a new sense of belonging to the family of Divine Love that is much greater and more intimate than any belonging that the world can offer. The world of communion with the Great Spirit that is truly experienced as a world of loneliness and the highest level of separation from my human yearning to be loved, is also revealed to me as the highest level of belonging to the Creator of the galaxies and being part of the human race.

Allowing God’s first love to be primary for me changes the way I live my existential loneliness, mainly because I am more rooted in the truth, and thus more able to live my suffering while standing as a full, human person.

a human life is a life that moves from the first loneliness of driving on the highway in alienation to the second loneliness of walking alone with Jesus, trusting that He is enough. Unmet needs continue to scream from within but we no longer demand healing from lovers and friends.

Choosing to act from the love that is always present with me in my suffering I become grounded in my identity as a beloved son of God. This is the path to greater and greater freedom and intimacy with the first love, the One who chose me before I was born.

LISTENING Take some time to breathe deeply and to calm yourself. Bring yourself back to your identification with the resentful one. Listen and acknowledge that you try to be dutiful. Invite your heart to speak to you about your feeling inadequate before others. Listen and identify who you’ve given the power to upset you and hold you hostage in angry feelings. Stay, listen, and give time to hear all that your heart wants to say. Try to see if there isn’t also a cry in your heart to believe “I am a sister. I am a brother. I’m not better or worse than anyone else.” Hear that cry as a true call to claim yourself as a full member of the human family. Listen to your true heart telling you that you are a precious and cherished person, among so many other wonderful people, who search and struggle like you, and who one day will die, like you. Listen and try to plumb the depths of your truth. JOURNALING Try to put into words the inner dialogue that took place during your listening time. Perhaps zero in on some of the people or events that destroyed your image of yourself as enough. Give yourself freedom to express the burden that you carry. Move slowly to write your insights into the truth about you and about your amazing life. In this sacred space, question how you can reclaim the truth and move away from feeling inadequate. Write your gratitude for those beautiful gifts that have been showered upon you in the course of your years. Finally, express your desire to stand fully in the...

As a spiritual practice consider fostering a real relationship with one who is visibly marginalized. Look beyond bizarre behavior, unfamiliar humor, or a broken body and offer mutual friendship. Step beyond fear, beyond being a do-gooder, beyond controlling the relationship, and discover beyond the handicap a precious sister or brother. From your unlikely friend you may be surprised to feel that you, too, are truly lovable and blessed just as you are.

It is when we are primarily giving thanks for our lives that we have the potential to receive another’s anger and judgment while remaining upright and letting it move through us. When we are looking for occasions to be grateful we hear anger and pain in a new way and can more readily accept it as being theirs and not ours. It is in that spirit that we try simply to receive it without judgment. This is only possible as we adopt thanksgiving as our way of living. Otherwise their resentment connects with ours and that only makes things worse. In the grateful life we no longer listen to another’s resentment as an affirmation of our own. Nor do we judge. We simply receive it in love.

You and I do not have to agree with another’s ways, nor do we have to pretend that that person’s treatment of us was not wrong. But it is important to objectively acknowledge the other’s unique story and especially the suffering of the one who offends us. When I feel hurt I must try to stand up for myself and at the same time try not to project judgment. I must work to accept how the other person’s individual story is a whole world of joy and pain just like mine. I know this is the way for a growing solidarity between us.

LISTENING Breathe deeply and find a still rhythm for exhaling preoccupations and for inhaling peace. In your imagination take your place silently beside Jesus and walk together up the mountain in the evening. Sit apart and watch him situate himself to pray. Watch him enter into communion with the One who sent him into the world. Imagine his communion with Love Divine. Stay and listen. The desert fathers counselled, “Go into your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” Set aside a period of time in nature or at home, at a church or temple, a library or anywhere you will not be disturbed. Sit, walk, meditate, pray, read, whatever pleases you. Pay attention. —From Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest by Wayne Muller, 1999, Bantam Books, New York, p. 178. Now go alone to the mountaintop and imagine yourself in the presence of the One who sent you into the world. Be still. Wait. Don’t speak but rest in the presence. Listen. JOURNALING Write what you witnessed on the mountaintop. Note your feelings while you were present there with Jesus in communion with Love Unending. What was difficult for you? Write what you heard in your imagination. What were you feeling as you ascended the mountain alone? Write what transpired as you tried to imagine yourself in communion with God’s Spirit. Write your emotions, what you heard, your thoughts, and your feelings. COMMUNING Quietly enter into that privileged place in the depths of your heart and abide with Love. Give yourself ...

Each one of us, as well as all who went before us, share the human condition and suffer from being loved imperfectly. We are not meant to stop at simply feeling the pain of these wounds, nor are we to become stuck in guilt or accusations. Rather this whole experience is to move us toward accepting a relationship with God’s living Spirit of Unconditional Love. Our spiritual journey is nothing more than a return to the intimacy, the safety, and the acceptance of that very first relationship with Love, that is uniquely present and at home within each one of us.

We experience the joys of being chosen and blessed. And we are broken not because we are cursed but because, like Jesus, passion moves us to compassion and to be given for others who suffer.

LISTENING In your stillness, listen and respond to the question “Who is your God?” Listen deeply for what you believe are the characteristics of the very Source of your life. Listen to how your heart relates to your God. Next look again at the painting of the meaningful but limited image of the One Jesus calls God. Listen to the Heart of all hearts longing for intimacy and togetherness. Imagine the eyes of the father figure moving from the son to embrace you and to invite you to take the place of the adult child. When you are ready, put your head on Love’s breast and allow the tender female hand to touch you in gratitude for your return. Feel the strong male hand caress you with joy and thoughts of celebration. Listen to words of tenderness, welcome, and unconditional love directed toward you. JOURNALING Write of your mixed emotions under this embrace of welcome. Be content with what you have; rejoice the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. —From Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest by Wayne Muller, 1999, Bantam Books, New York, p. 82; quoted from Lao-Tzu with no reference. COMMUNING In awe and reverence listen to the words of affirmation and welcome. Take the Beloved’s hands in yours and get to your feet. Look into the eyes of love and speak. Commune in love. Heart speaks to heart.

A WISDOM PRACTICE FOR THOSE ON A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY Practice #8—RECEIVE MERCY

Let us be aware of small gestures of love offered us by others that remind us of our unique beauty. Let us try to gratefully accept the smile, the tender word, the caring embrace, and the recognition that affirms our personhood. These are but reminders of the overwhelming reception awaiting our every return to communion with God’s Spirit, and that mercy is always available and always confirming the truth of our belovedness.