YOU KEEP WAITING ON ME
A Devotional from Outside the Father’s House — Luke 15:25–32
Last week I preached a message called OUTSIDE THE FATHER’S HOUSE from Luke 15:25–32. Most of us know Luke 15 as the story of the prodigal son, but there were actually two sons outside the father’s house. One left home and went into the world. The other stayed close to home but eventually found himself standing outside too. Different roads. Different struggles. Same Father.
That message, along with watching people wrestle with their own faith, is really where this song came from. I’ve watched people who genuinely want God struggle with the life they’re trying to leave behind. Sometimes it’s because of choices they’ve made. Sometimes it’s because of things that were done to them. Sometimes it’s disappointment, pain, addiction, relationships, shame, questions, or simply years of learning to survive in a world that taught them how to live without trusting God.
And then Jesus gets hold of their heart.
They want Him. They want the new life. They want to leave the old one behind. But wanting to come home doesn’t mean the road home is always easy.
I’ve been running these roads for a long, long time
Chasing down answers I never could find
This isn’t really a song about somebody who has decided they don’t want God. It’s about somebody who does want Him, but is struggling to find their way home. And I think there are more people living in that tension than we realize.
Both Sons Needed the Father
That’s what strikes me about Luke 15. The younger son went into the far country. The older son never left the property. But by the end of the story, the father goes out to both of them.
When the younger son comes home, the father sees him while he’s still a long way off. He runs to him, embraces him, and welcomes him home. Then, when the older brother refuses to come inside, Luke tells us, “His father came out and entreated him.” — Luke 15:28
There’s something beautiful in that picture. The Father goes after the rebellious son, and the Father goes after the religious son. Grace isn’t only for the person who ran a thousand miles away. Grace is also for the person standing ten feet outside the door.
And maybe that’s where some of us misunderstand grace. We tend to think of it only as what God gives us when we finally get everything straightened out. But grace is also what meets us while we are still trying to find our way back.
You Keep Waiting on Me
That’s really the heart behind the song:
You keep waiting on me
You keep waiting on me
Not because God approves of everything we do. Not because sin doesn’t matter. And certainly not because grace gives us permission to keep running. Grace matters because sometimes coming home is hard.
Sometimes faith is strong, and sometimes faith is hanging by a thread. Sometimes we know exactly what we believe, and sometimes all we know is that somewhere underneath all the hurt, confusion, and struggle, we still want Jesus.
I need You to know, God
I’m still hanging on.
There’s something deeply human about that prayer. It isn’t polished or impressive. It’s just somebody saying, “God, I’m struggling, but I haven’t stopped wanting You.”
And the beautiful thing about God is that while we’re struggling to hold on to Him, He has never stopped holding on to us. He has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” — Hebrews 13:5
That promise changes the way we see the road home. We aren’t trying to make our way back to a God who has turned His back on us. We are turning toward the Father who has been there all along.
The Light Is Still On
There’s a line in the bridge that probably captures that picture better than anything else:
Maybe home ain’t a place
Maybe home is a light
That keeps burning somewhere
On the edge of the night
There’s something about seeing a light on when you’ve been gone a long time. It tells you somebody is still there. The house hasn’t disappeared. The door hasn’t been locked. You haven’t been forgotten.
Maybe that’s what somebody needs to know today.
You may have wandered. You may be struggling. You may have questions you can’t answer yet. You may desperately want the things of God while still fighting against pieces of the life you’re trying to leave behind. But don’t mistake your struggle for God’s absence.
The Father hasn’t moved.
Whether you’re the younger son coming up the road or the older son standing outside angry, hurt, and confused, the Father still comes toward you. That’s grace. Not permission to stay away, but an invitation to come home.
And maybe this song isn’t really for you. It may not be your style of music, your genre, or even a struggle you personally understand right now. This isn’t my personal story either. It came from seeing people in this place and thinking about the heart of Jesus for the one. The Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one who is missing.
But maybe you know that one.
Maybe it’s your son or daughter. Maybe it’s your spouse, your friend, or somebody you’ve been praying for. Maybe you’re not the prodigal walking down the road at all. Maybe you’re the person standing on the porch with the light on.
If that’s you, keep the light on. Keep praying. Keep loving. Keep representing the heart of the Father. We can’t force someone down the road toward home, but we can make sure they know where home is. And when you finally see them coming, remember the father in Jesus’ story. He didn’t stand on the porch and make his son walk the last stretch alone. He ran to meet him.
The road may have been long. The night may have been dark. Your faith may have taken some hits along the way. Or maybe you’re simply praying for someone you love who is somewhere out on that road.
Either way, the light is still on.
The Father is still calling.
And Jesus is still worth coming home to.