To Fyodor Dostoevsky, the parable of the prodigal son was a lifeline. Though an outcast in a Siberian prison, he found himself within this radical story of homecoming and a father’s heart. C.S. Lewis similarly alluded to finding himself within the parable: “Who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance to escape?” It is a parable that unveils each of us in some way, whether we find ourselves as the prodigal asking for mercy or the jealous older brother looking for credit for good behavior. In any case, it is the image of the father that convinces us to remove the veil. He is both the subject and the point of the story Jesus tells.

The parable begins with a man who has two sons. The first half of the story focuses on the younger son who boldly requests his inheritance before his father had even died. He then ends up squandering his father’s money on the throes of his own appetite. When he has nothing left and is desperate with hunger, he turns back for home with the expectation that he can work his way back into the father’s house.

The second half of the story introduces us to the older son who did not leave the father and smugly points this out when the younger son comes wandering back home. The older son is the one who stays, who looks after the father, who works in his fields, and is disturbed by the younger son’s blatant disregard for the life their father has given them. He is angered by the celebration of his brother’s return, jealous of the father’s attention and forgiveness, envious of the celebrated position his brother is receiving. The father he loves deserved more than his brother’s selfish squandering, and so does he, as the son who stayed.

In both sons, there is good and bad, conceit and humility, selfishness and acknowledgment of the father, even if self-serving. The younger son is full of foolishness, and yet he exhibits some degree of wisdom in turning around. The older son is loyal and more conscientious, and yet he exhibits a great degree of selfishness and disregard in his reaction to the father’s character. Neither son is a clear example of the kind of person most of us want to be. Yet, both sons, in all of their major failings and minor virtues, are clearly sought out by the father. In the estimation of one of my wise professors, this parable leaves us questioning what on earth a father is going to do with two boys like that? And more importantly, what on earth is God going to do with people like us?

Yet to this wayward child who stumbles toward home, the father runs to embrace him, immediately saying to his servants: “Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fatted calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”(1) With every symbol of restoration, the father who was waiting embraces the son who was lost. This lavish grace of the Father is ours as prodigal children. Though we neither expect it nor deserve it, the celebration is thrown in our honor, over the return of even one lost sheep.

To the older son who fumes outside the party and accuses his father of unfairness, the father responds with patience and care, calling him to an awareness of heritage over inheritance: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” When we are the smug older children of the Father, his grace is jarring and disruptive, even as God reminds us that all God has is our own. God’s invitation to the feast is both awkward and demanding, a call to overlook the harm that our flagrant siblings cause—and their potential to cause it again. But the Father stands beside us with this request and his grace, though we are equally undeserving.

Whether we find ourselves in the shoes of the prodigal or treading the ground of the older brother, there is good reason to celebrate the unveiling and unsounded love of this Father Jesus describes. His story overturns lesser narratives: God’s unfathomable grace and mercy shatters our sense of who is worthy and bids us to see that God alone is our rescue. The Father invites us to a celebration of the kingdom regardless of where we now stand.

Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

(1) Luke 15:22-25.