I love the story of the Prodigal Son. You know the story. He went from the love of a father to the stench of a pigsty. An inheritance squandered. A life wasted. Forlorn and dejected. And then he resolved to return home. We read about the speech he had prepared. He would recount his own unworthiness. He would offer to take the position of a humble servant. He would make amends. He must have recited that speech a hundred times on the road home.
He never got a chance to use it. His father was waiting and watching and came running to meet him. Before he could say a word, the father’s arms were
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