There was once a rich man who had two sons. The elder one was obedient, enduring and kind. Typical first-child syndrome. The youngest was carefree, reckless and without ambition. The wealthy father loved his sons greatly. He did not withhold any good thing from them.
The younger son being taken in his youthful frolic spent his days and night with his friends. Foolish company one might add as every time his friends were together, there was debauchery, drugs and poverty of the mind. His father kept a watchful eye on him, however the demands of juvenile escapades were far too discreet and he escaped the admonition of the good man of the house.
Days turned to months, and as roots get stronger in the mire, the boy could not bring himself out of this demonic hole. Friends abandoned him as money ran dry. With much shame he resolved to find his own employment and not return to his home of birth. But the truth is he had no skill or talent. He went starving for most days without even a meal or drink. Ended up laying in a pig sty with no room to stay. He ate the swine's feed and drank muddied water.
Every night he wailed bitterly, heart-broke thinking of the fortress he grew up in. The many servants who were there to assist at a snap of a finger. Copious amounts of food and drink that was available at all times of the day. Above all he was the favourite to his father. He thought to himself, even if I were a servant at my father's palace, I would have a better life that this.
One morning he decided to leave this hell hole and walked toward home. His heart beating out of his chest, agonized, guilt-ridden, full of shame yet with a glimmer of hope because he knew the heart of his father.
His father saw him miles away, as though anticipating his return every minute of every day. Even though he looked unrecognizable, dirty and reeking. It did not deter his steps as he ran towards his son for an embrace.
Whatever the son did, it did not matter.
However far he had gone, it did not matter.
What lengths his iniquities were, it did not matter.
That lost son is you and me. Whatever we have done, it does not matter to our Father in Heaven. We can return to him at any time. You cannot find such a love except with this man who volunteered to give His life for you in return for your love.