But while he was still a long way from home his father saw him, and his heart went out to him; he ran and hugged his son and kissed him… But the older son became angry and refused to go in. (Luke 15:20, 28)
One night in Chennai, India, we celebrated three baptisms with unforgettable flair. First, we power baptized in the Bay of Bengal. The candidates were held in shallow water and the words, “You are baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” were timed with an incoming wave. The sea blasted over the converts, and I tried to hold on. We came out laughing.
Next, we ignited skyrockets on the beach. Spectacular fireworks are inexpensive in India—the kind that soar 500 feet, and, with chest hammering explosions, burst into crackling zigzags. We sent a colorful declaration of union with God into the heavens, so both the angels and fishermen could rejoice.
We should party more when someone comes to Christ. I notice in the parable above, that both the repentant son and his older brother doubted the legitimacy of the festivities. The father couldn’t wait to put on fancy clothes, a feast, and dance music. Could it be that we’re still slow to celebrate the totality of grace?
If someone threw a party for my homecoming to God, I’m afraid I’d lug a duffel bag of guilt into the revelry. Father would say, “leave it at the door.” I’d hesitate, especially when I heard the protestations of older Christians—you know, those who stayed outside with their accomplishments.
My heavenly Father would insist the duffel couldn’t come in, and then he’d propose a toast. “To the one I lost, but who returned. Your mistakes are forgotten by me and all who are in this room.”
The only proper response to this pinnacle of life is to eat, drink, and laugh for eternity.
Prayer: Father, help me see into the depths of forgiveness, and celebrate.