The Father Who Runs: Sharing the Prodigal Son with Muslim Friends

By Dr. Tim Orr

Jesus’ Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32) is more than a simple tale—it’s a direct challenge to how we view God. While many religions, including Islam, emphasize justice, duty, and divine transcendence, Jesus tells a story that turns those assumptions upside down. It tells of a son who rebels and a father who runs. A son who expects judgment and receives celebration. This story may surprise readers used to thinking of God primarily as a distant king. But here, Jesus introduces us to a God who is not only just but lavish in mercy. He is a God who welcomes us not because we are good enough, but because He is gracious enough.—it tells the story of a younger son who demands his inheritance early, leaves home, and squanders everything in reckless living. When famine strikes and he finds himself feeding pigs, he decides to return home in shame, hoping only to become a servant in his father’s household. To his surprise, the father sees him from a distance, runs to him, embraces him, and restores him as a son. This moment of welcome includes a robe, a ring, and a feast to celebrate his return. The parable continues with the older brother, who is angry and refuses to join the celebration. His response reveals a struggle with grace and entitlement. This full narrative speaks to the deepest longing of the human soul: to be known, forgiven, and welcomed home.

The narrative begins with a younger son who dishonors his father, squanders his inheritance, and ends up destitute. Though steeped in ancient Jewish culture, the story crosses boundaries and touches hearts regardless of background. For our Muslim friends who honor Jesus (Isa al-Masih) as a prophet, this parable offers a unique glimpse into his teaching about God’s nature. It conveys not just divine mercy (rahma), but relational mercy—the kind that embraces rather than evaluates. The father’s act of running to his son would have been seen as culturally undignified. Yet this is exactly how Jesus portrays God’s love: personal, self-giving, and deeply invested. to be known, forgiven, and welcomed home. The narrative begins with a younger son who dishonors his father, squanders his inheritance, and ends up destitute. Though steeped in ancient Jewish culture, the story crosses boundaries and touches hearts regardless of background. For our Muslim friends who honor Jesus (Isa al-Masih) as a prophet, this parable offers a unique glimpse into his teaching about God’s nature. It conveys not just divine mercy (rahma), but relational mercy—the kind that embraces rather than evaluates. The father’s act of running to his son would have been seen as culturally undignified. Yet this is exactly how Jesus portrays God’s love: personal, self-giving, and deeply invested.

“Say, ‘O My servants who have transgressed against themselves [by sinning], do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Indeed, Allah forgives all sins’” (Qur’an 39:53, Sahih International). Even within Islam, God’s mercy (al-Rahman) is foundational. Each chapter of the Qur’an (except one) begins with God’s gracious names. However, the parable invites reflection on a deeper kind of mercy, one not limited to judicial pardon but extending toward restored relationship. It offers a vision of God that many Muslims may not have encountered—a God who doesn’t just forgive but runs to forgive. This kind of mercy is both surprising and inviting. It draws us into a relationship that is not based on performance, but on love.

The Undignified Father and the Radical God

In Middle Eastern culture, a father would never run. Running meant lifting your robe, exposing your legs, and forfeiting your honor. Yet Jesus describes the father seeing his son “while he was still a long way off” and running to embrace him (Luke 15:20, ESV). This image would have stunned his audience. It suggests a God who defies expectations, who is not afraid to appear dishonored for the sake of love. In Islamic theology, God's honor and majesty are central, and the idea of God humbling Himself or appearing shamed would seem incompatible with His divine nature. Allah is described as transcendent, beyond comparison, and deserving of reverence and awe. Yet here, Jesus presents a picture of God who chooses to be seen in a socially disgraceful position in order to extend grace. This is not to diminish God's holiness, but to emphasize His relentless compassion—a theme echoed in both the Bible and Qur’an, yet expressed in profoundly different ways. The God Jesus describes is not less holy but more approachable. He maintains His majesty while drawing near to the broken. For Muslim readers, this portrayal may challenge long-held assumptions, but it also opens the door to a fresh understanding of God’s heart.. For Muslim readers, this portrayal may be challenging, yet deeply compelling—it invites a new way of thinking about divine love.

It opens the door to a God who does not wait to be approached with ritual purity but runs to embrace the broken and the repentant. Such a picture invites contemplation about the nature of God's mercy and the possibility of intimate relationship with Him. The father doesn’t scold or test the son’s sincerity—he interrupts his apology, embraces him, and restores him to sonship. He throws a feast, not because the son deserves it, but because he was lost and is found.

This depiction contrasts with common Islamic descriptions of God (Allah) as majestic and exalted (al-Mutakabbir, al-Aziz). Islam teaches God's mercy, but also His inaccessibility. In Christianity, however, God's mercy takes the form of personal pursuit. God does not remain remote—He enters our world in the person of Jesus. The Incarnation is not a denial of God’s greatness; it’s an extension of His grace. For those who have only known a God who must be obeyed at a distance, this image of a Father who comes close may feel strange—but it is also deeply compelling. (Allah) as majestic and exalted (al-Mutakabbir, al-Aziz). The Qur’an emphasizes God’s distance and glory: “There is nothing like unto Him” (Qur’an 42:11). While this affirms divine transcendence, the parable highlights God’s immanence—his nearness and initiative. In Christianity, this nearness reaches its climax in the Incarnation: God becoming flesh in Jesus to seek and save the lost (John 1:14; Luke 19:10). “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8, ESV). This is not a passive form of mercy—it is mercy in motion. It is the picture of a God who comes after the brokenhearted with open arms.

Tawbah and the Heart of Repentance

In Islam, tawbah (repentance) is a sacred act. It involves acknowledging wrongdoing, feeling remorse, asking for forgiveness, and resolving not to repeat the sin. It is a return to the straight path (sirat al-mustaqim), often framed as a moral and spiritual recalibration. Yet the prodigal’s return is not just a moral act—it’s a relational act. He does not ask to be treated as a son but as a servant. However, the father reasserts his identity: “This my son was dead and is alive again” (Luke 15:24). Repentance in the Christian gospel is not about proving oneself but about coming home. This differs from the concept of tawbah in Islam, which rightly values sincerity, remorse, and amendment of life. Yet Jesus’ story adds something more—a Father who runs to meet the sinner before the confession is finished. In Christian thought, repentance is not a way to earn acceptance but the response to already being loved. It’s a turning back to a relationship that was always waiting.

This depiction reveals something profound about repentance in Christian theology. It is not about self-cleansing but surrender. The gospel teaches that God takes the initiative in reconciliation, and repentance is the response of a heart awakened to grace (2 Corinthians 5:18–19). This echoes the earlier imagery in the parable of the lost sheep (Luke 15:3–7), where the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. God seeks before we even cry out. He does not wait to forgive us—he pursues us, even when we are still far off. That is the kind of mercy that transforms a life.

A Restored Identity: Adoption into God’s Family

Perhaps the most beautiful part of the parable is not just that the son is forgiven—it is that he is adopted back into full sonship. The father puts a robe on him, a ring on his finger, and shoes on his feet—all symbols of restored identity (Luke 15:22). In Christian theology, this moment reflects the doctrine of adoption. When someone trusts in Christ, they are not merely pardoned criminals; they are adopted into God's family as beloved sons and daughters. This adoption is not metaphorical but spiritual and relational, giving them the right to call God "Father." In Christian belief, this transformation grants a new identity and secure belonging. In contrast, Islamic tradition does not include the concept of God as Father, and adoption in Islamic law (kafala) is legal and guardianship-based, not relational in the same sense. Therefore, the Christian concept of adoption introduces a radically intimate view of God—one who not only forgives but embraces us as His own. This relational closeness, expressed in the cry "Abba, Father," signals a deep trust and love between God and the believer (Romans 8:15). Such a view may be unfamiliar to Muslims, but it reflects the core of the gospel message: not just pardon, but restoration to family. This invitation is extended freely to all who come to Christ in faith.

They are welcomed as beloved sons and daughters (Galatians 4:4–7; Romans 8:15). This is more than a change of status—it is a change of identity.

Religious Pride and the Older Brother’s Blindness

The story doesn’t end with the celebration. Jesus includes a second son—the older brother—who represents those who feel entitled by their obedience. He resents the celebration, saying, “All these years I’ve served you… yet you never gave me a goat” (Luke 15:29). This attitude parallels the mindset of many devout people, including Muslims, who pursue righteousness through prayer, fasting, and charity. These acts, though honorable, can lead to a view of God based on merit rather than mercy. Many Muslims deeply value God's mercy and forgiveness, as reflected in the frequent invocation of God's names al-Rahman and al-Raheem. These names highlight divine compassion and are recited daily in prayers and worship. However, the parable of the Prodigal Son offers a distinct perspective on mercy by emphasizing grace—God's unearned favor toward those who have nothing to offer. In Christian theology, grace goes beyond pardon to embrace and restore. It is not simply a balance of deeds, but a gift that flows from God's love and initiative.

This difference invites deeper reflection on how divine mercy is experienced in relationship. It suggests that God's grace not only forgives but transforms our sense of identity and belonging. The older brother believes his loyalty should earn him favor. The older brother believes his loyalty should earn him favor.

Jesus gently exposes the danger in that mindset. The father reminds the older son that everything he has is already his. The point is not about fairness but joy over the restoration of the lost. Grace cannot be earned; it can only be received. Both the outwardly rebellious and the outwardly religious must come to God the same way—through grace. This part of the parable invites all who are striving to rest in the love of the Father. It is not about earning a place—it is about accepting an invitation.

An Invitation to Come Home

To our Muslim friends, we honor your devotion, your love for God, and your respect for Jesus as a prophet. Your pursuit of God through prayer, fasting, and righteousness is something we admire deeply. But Jesus did not simply come to affirm morality or confirm tradition. He came to reveal a side of God that is deeply relational—one that invites us into His very family. This is a striking departure from what many religious systems, including Islam, emphasize. The God Jesus reveals is not distant or merely majestic; He is the Father who runs, the Shepherd who searches, and the King who throws a feast for sinners. Such imagery may feel unusual, but it is an invitation worth considering. In a world where many relate to God primarily through duty and distance, this offer of adoption is profoundly personal.

It assures us that we are not merely servants or subjects, but sons and daughters. This is not a downgrade in reverence—it’s an upgrade in intimacy. Christians do not take this lightly. In fact, calling God 'Father' is the most reverent and awe-inspiring privilege we know, and it shapes everything about how we relate to Him. The identity He offers us cannot be achieved by moral striving or balanced scales. It is a gift that springs from God's grace, not human effort. This does not diminish God’s holiness—it magnifies His mercy. While Islam upholds God’s mercy through names and prayers, Christianity claims that this mercy took flesh, walked among us, and embraced the unworthy. That is not meant as an attack, but as an invitation—to consider whether the greatest expression of divine mercy might be personal, intimate, and embodied in Jesus. That identity cannot be earned—it is a gift of grace. And it’s available to all who come to Him in faith.

“Have you ever thought about God rejoicing over a sinner returning, like a father welcoming his lost son?” That is what Jesus invites us to consider. Through the gospel, Jesus made a way for us to be adopted into God’s family—not as servants, but as sons and daughters. On the cross, he bore our shame. Through the resurrection, he opened the door to the feast. The robe and the ring await. Will you come home?

References

Crossway Bibles. (2001). The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (ESV). Crossway.

International Quranic Center. (2012). The Qur’an: Translation by Sahih International. Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

Qur’an 39:53. Sahih International Translation.

Qur’an 42:11. Sahih International Translation.

The Holy Bible, New Testament. (n.d.). Luke 15:11–32; Luke 15:3–7; Luke 19:10; John 1:14; Romans 5:8; Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:4–7; 2 Corinthians 5:18–19. NIV and ESV.

Who is Dr. Tim Orr?

Tim serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.

In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK, including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran. He has published in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.