Hebrews 13:1 Let brotherly love continue.
As we continue in our study of the parable of the Prodigal son, let's focus on the central figure in the story -- the father. The father is much like the helpless parent whose unending love is neither understood nor appreciated by either son. He allows his sons to make their own decisions, despite how bad those choices may be. No matter what terrible wrong they may commit, he loves them -- a perfect picture of the love of our Heavenly Father has for his children.
Notwithstanding the father's love, the younger son wants to see him dead, so he can receive his inheritance, while the elder son is self righteously preoccupied with the "good standing" he has "earned". Their father's unconditional love for them is completely beyond their comprehension.
The younger son begins to understand his father's love only after his rebellion bears its bitter fruit, he is desperate, helpless and humbled, and finally returns desiring just to be a servant -- yet upon his return he experiences the love of his father who prepares a kingly feast for him and restores him as a son.
What happens in the heart of the elder son is uncertain. He has been working in the field seeking to earn his father's love and acceptance. So he explodes with self-righteous anger when his father prepares a feast for his undeserving delinquent brother. Since his understanding of love is conditional, he can't believe that his father would reward his brother's behavior -- and he jealously wonders why his Dad has never lavished him this way. No hint of love or joy over his brother's repentance or his father's relief when he returns. Instead, he calls him the "son of his father" (Luke 15:20) and is filled with bitterness and accusation. Perhaps it amazed him to begin to realize that his father's love had all the time been unconditional and freely given without measure simply because they are his sons. We can only hope he finally softened under that realization.
God is not just a "loving" God -- the scripture says that "God IS love" [1 John 4:6]. When we fully realize that His love cannot be earned but is freely given, then we will serve our Father because of His love for us! With so much work to be done, let's be sure we're working in and out of love -- and not because we're trying to earn it!
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.