Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
2 Give thanks to the God of gods,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
3 Give thanks to the Lord of lords,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
4 to him who alone does great wonders,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
5 to him who by understanding made the heavens,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
6 to him who spread out the earth above the waters,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
7 to him who made the great lights,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
8 the sun to rule over the day,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
9 the moon and stars to rule over the night,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
23 It is he who remembered us in our low estate,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
24 and rescued us from our foes,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
25 he who gives food to all flesh,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
26 Give thanks to the God of heaven,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
Dirty, tired, and afraid, mostly afraid, he crested that last hill. The jury-rigged repair of his sandal which he had made that morning had worn a blister on his right foot. With every step he could feel that either the blister or the repair was about break. But all of this was nothing. The real pain and the real anguish roiled in his heart. The next hour could mean everything. He remembered when he had walked the other way on this road, full of confidence and pockets full of cash. The cash was long gone, and the confidence lay trodden by pigs in a sty far away. What would his father do? Probably nothing. He would walk through the little houses where the servants live and they would hiss at him, curse him, and throw whatever they did not want at him. He would knock on the door, but his father would not come, not for days. He would wait. He was determined to wait, no matter what they said, no matter what they threw at him. He knew his father would see him eventually.
He could not blame those people, not really. He has been such a jerk when he left. He had said such terrible things to his father. The liquidation of his inheritance had cost people their jobs. He stopped at the top of the hill and looked at the old place. It still looked like always. The same trees, the same barn, the same big house with the porch. He would have to run the gauntlet of servants before he got there, but he missed the place, he missed his father. He even missed his self-righteous, do-gooder older brother.
What is this? He looks again. Who is that running toward him? Can it be? It is! It is the old man, his father. He looks ridiculous. His robe hitched up to his waist, scrawny legs churning. What is he doing? All the servants have seen and follow him. He slows and stops in front of the young man. He is panting from the exertion. The old man shouldn’t run like this. His face breaks into a huge smile and he throws his arms wide and embraces him.
He turns around and faces the crowd of servants who have followed him out. “You,” he barks to one, “get a robe. You, get some sandals. You, get a ring. And you, kill the fatted calf. We are going to have a party!”
Read the last half of Luke 15 again. You know already the story but read it again. At the end of it, repeat the refrain of this psalm: His steadfast love endures forever.