Spurgeon opens by taking a long, searching look at the prodigal before his father ever reaches him — filthy, ragged, starving, disgraced, with no claim on his father's mercy and no denial when told he deserves to be cast away forever — and holds this mirror up to every trembling, despairing sinner who knows they are a great way off from God: too weak to cover the distance, too frightened to run toward a father they have wronged, too hard-hearted to repent as they wish, too doubtful to lay hold of faith, convinced in every department that they fall catastrophically short and cannot close the gap by any effort of their own. He then turns the sermon with tremendous force to the second half of the verse — the father's response — dwelling word by word on what the father does: he sees his son while still a great way off (as God sees every penitent sinner in his most desperate state with an eye full of tender paternal love, reading his whole case at a glance), he has compassion (feeling the son's misery from the inside, putting himself in the rags), he runs (not walking stately with conditions, but leaping over hedges by the shortest possible route), and he falls on the sinner's neck and kisses him before a single wound is cleansed or a single qualification met — because God never saw the sinner in himself but always in Christ, and so kissed him as he would have kissed his beloved Son. He closes with three properties of this reception that Spurgeon insists matter enormously to the doubting soul: it was instant (not gradual — the moment the prodigal was found he was as near the father as he would ever be, just as the freshly converted sinner is already as fully accepted and as truly a child as the saint of eighty years), complete (no conditions, no partial forgiveness, no second-class membership — the ring, the robe, the feast, all at once), and permanent (the father does not receive and then dismiss — "you are ever with me" is the lasting word) — and he urges every sinner who is still a great way off to stop looking for feelings to authorize their coming, and simply turn their face toward the Father who is already running toward them. Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on September 4, 1864.