The Return of the Prodigal Son

You don’t need to know much of the Bible to have heard the story of the Prodigal Son. Like the Good Samaritan, this well-known parable has been retold so many times that most English speakers can identify the meaning of “prodigal” without necessarily knowing its historical context.

Many of us can see ourselves as the returning son who has sinned and is immediately welcomed home by the father; others may see themselves as the jealous older brother who had done no wrong, and so it’s difficult for them to see their need for grace and forgiveness. But few of us have ever thought of ourselves in light of the Father, and that’s why I’d like to turn to one of the artist Rembrandt’s most famous pieces called “The Return of the Prodigal Son.”


Painted at the very end of his life, this is one of Rembrandt’s final and most emotional works. He had sketched several scenes of the famous parable throughout his life, which finally led to this oil painting that I believe captures the heart of Jesus’ parable.

Look at the way Rembrandt portrays the Father. Here, you can gain a whole new understanding of the tenderness, mercy, and forgiveness he has for his rebellious son. Every detail of the Father’s figure: the light on his facial expression, his posture, the colors of his clothing, and, most of all, the gesture of his hands—all of these details speak of God’s divine love for humans that existed since the creation of Adam in the garden.

What gives Rembrandt’s portrayal of the Father such an irresistible power is that the “most divine” is captured in the “most human” way. If I just look at how the father is portrayed on the surface, I see a half-blind old man with a mustache and a parted beard dressed in a gold-embroidered garment and a deep red cloak as he lays his large, stiffened hands on the shoulders of his returning son.

Now that’s specific, it’s concrete. But if you keep looking at it, you can also see both infinite compassion and unconditional love. These are divine realities coming from the Father who is the Creator of the universe. Here, the human and the divine, the fragile and the powerful, the old and the eternally young are fully expressed.

The true center of Rembrandt’s painting is those hands of the Father. It’s on them that all the light is concentrated and the eyes of the bystanders are focused. It’s upon them that forgiveness, reconciliation and healing come together. And it’s through them that, not only the tired son, but also the worn out father, find their rest.

Two years after Rembrandt painted the father and his blessing hands, the artist died. And it’s in this painting that Rembrandt chose to teach us a spiritual reality that he himself was greatly moved by. These hands represent the hands of God. They’ve held us from the hour of our conception; they’ve protected us in times of danger and consoled us in times of grief; they’ve waved us goodbye, but always welcome us back home.

And it’s this powerful message of overwhelming grace and forgiveness for us sinners that I believe is at the center of my favorite painting by Rembrandt. Ultimately, it gives us a more complete picture of how we all have a great need for the grace that our Heavenly Father is ready to give us the moment we come home to Him.

About the Author

As the leader of the Haven Ministries, Charles Morris is always thinking of ways to lead Christians and non-Christians to Christ—hence the familiar slogan, “Telling the great story … it’s all about Jesus.” A former secular journalist, Charles has worked for United Press International, and as a press secretary for two former U.S. senators. He and his wife, Janet, have authored several books, including Missing Jesus. Charles’ latest book is Fleeing ISIS, Finding Jesus: The Real Story of God At Work.

Come Back, Barbara

“Mom, Dad, I don’t want your rules and morals. I don’t want to act like a Christian anymore! And I’m not going to,” Barbara declared at age 18.

As her father desperately attempted to reason with her, Barbara grew more resentful, choosing a path of immorality that only deepened her parents’ pain.

“I am not ignorant of human depravity,” writes C. John Miller, “but I had long denied that it could exist in our family.”

That reality, however, forced him to confront his own sin, seek forgiveness, admit his inability to change his wayward daughter, and begin loving Barbara on God’s terms.

C. John “Jack” Miller and Barbara Miller Juliani chronicle their journey from grief and conflict to joyful reconciliation. Come Back, Barbara is thus an irresistible portrayal of God’s grace to the Millers and us all. With newly added study questions, this book offers invaluable lessons about facing our own struggles with humility, courage, and hope.


  • Kay Kosniewski says:

    Although raised in a Christian environment my daughter has converted to Islam. I was devastated. God has taught me about giving free will as He gives us all, that love is action more than feeling, is unconditional, and to let go and trust Him. Be the example of Christian love. Have a relationship with her without preaching. I trust this can be used for amazing purpose to God’s glory!

    • Corum Hughes says:

      This is such a heartfelt response, Kay. Yes, I think you’re doing all a parent can hope to do in your situation, to be a loving ambassador of Christ for your daughter while keeping your relationship strong. We’ll join you in prayer and trust the Lord is working in your daughter’s heart even now.

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    • Corum Hughes says:

      Thanks for the suggestion! That is something we’re working on.

      • d rusi says:

        of the 4 players in this parable, we can often find God in the Father but we find ourselves in the other members most of the time.
        The father,
        yhe wandering person,
        the other family member,
        the spectators/ servants, helpers.

        For me, I think i move between the list of players , mist often the most critical but least helpful bystander.

        As I watch my adult family members grow, I know that I.need patience to let God work on their time and His time, not my timeline.
        but that process of patieence and waiting is a difficult process.
        In the interview, your guest , Barbara, mentioned “enabling”. I woukd like you to unpack that in a larger blog/ series.
        As us parents wait, we are counceled by many 3rd party bystanders, counselors, clergy, family, and blog-groups, and on-line-support groups who have the same theme … to notbe codependant on the wanderer, and to not enable them. That is
        the wisdom of the world… don’t enable, let them wander, let a person “come to their senses” (or Give It To God,… let God work on His Time…) either way, the family members need to learn how to wait while the other has their wandering and that is a super hard lesson. Perhaps there are lessons we can take from the Amish community as they often let their young adults move through Rumspringer during their growth.

        Adult snd spiritual growth for many is impacted by other struggles of the mind, such as ADHD , and other pulls.

        bottom line: learning patience while the world says “dont be an enabler” is very hard.


  • Dan Moynihan says:

    The Return of the Prodigal Son

    Lovely article and exposition.

    Minor point, but I think there’s a typo, should you wish to correct it: “ … they’ve waived us goodby …”
    Should be WAVED us goodby, right?
    Thank you,


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