Our church just wrapped up a 3-week series based on the story of the prodigal son, and this morning I’m just marinating some more on the beautiful fact that the father ran to meet the younger son while he was still a long way off.

It was unprecedented, and even scandalous, for a man to run (Aristotle once said that great men never run in public), let alone run with his garments raised and his legs exposed! And yet, this father was willing to risk ridicule to get to his son.

But when you know about the Jewish custom of kezazah, the running takes on an even greater significance. In the culture that Jesus was addressing, whenever a Jewish son lost his inheritance among the Gentiles, he would be subject to a ceremony known as the kezazah.

The villagers would stop the son at the city gates, and break a large pot at his feet. They would yell at him, telling him that the broken pottery represented the relationship between the city and the son, including the son’s family. Fathers didn’t even attend the ceremony, and yet this father ran to restore his son before he would be exposed to the shame of kezazah.

We have a Father who went to great lengths to remove shame from us at the cross. He lifts our heads when shame tries to keep them down. He looks in our eyes when others look away. He runs faster than those who want to expose us. He is the Father who outruns shame, and now, He calls us to do the same.

Today, be a defender of the broken, the outcast, the marginalized. Run to those who have been cut off, and allow the Father to use you as His representative of grace, forgiveness, and restoration.

There is a place at the table for

The hungry

The lonely

The hurting

The healed

The hopeful

The hoping

The broken

The whole.

All are welcome at the table because no matter where we’ve been or what we’ve done, there is a Servant King who has gone before us and prepared a place for us.

There’s a place at His table with a name card that has your name on it.

He’s saving it for you, and He’s watching for your arrival.

For many followers of Jesus, doubt is the real D word.

The one we rarely speak, at least out loud.

The one that stays in our head, and as a result, seeps into the heart.

At the end of His account of how Jesus had lived with them, laughed with them, eaten with them, been taken from them and finally returned to them, Matthew records these words about the remaining eleven disciples:

The eleven disciples traveled to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped, but some doubted. (‭‭Matthew‬ ‭28:16-17‬ ‭CSB, emphasis mine)

I’m not sure how many “some” is, but it’s more than 1 and more than a few. So let’s divide it at 7 worshippers and 4 doubters. That’s a lot of doubt and not a lot of room to hide it. More than a third of these men have arms crossed while the others have hands raised, and while we want to point out how much doubt can kill the perfect church atmosphere, take special note of what happened in this environment marked with doubt:

Jesus came near and said to them, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (‭‭Matthew‬ ‭28:18-20‬ ‭CSB, emphasis mine)

Jesus came near.

Their doubt didn’t increase His distance. On the contrary, it seems to have increased His intimacy, like a good friend drawing close to a hurting friend in her pain.

But keep reading. Doubt didn’t stop the plan. Jesus looked at a mixed group of worshippers and doubters and sent all of them. All of them. Doubters included.

He sent them with His authority because He knew that they would doubt their ability.

And He reminded them that He would always be with them. Always. Now in their doubt, but also later in the danger that would more than likely increase their doubt.

One of the beautiful takeaways from this closing scene in Matthew is this: there is room for doubt in our worship. There is a generational hemorrhage happening in the current church landscape because people don’t feel like their doubt is welcome in the church, and yet Jesus drew near to doubters, and He still does.

Don’t let doubt keep you from worship, from being in the gathering of other followers of Jesus, or from being sent by Jesus. Doubt doesn’t stop Jesus; don’t allow it to stop you, either.