Spendthrift son

The story of the prodigal son appears to be about a son obtaining his inheritance early, somehow, and then wasting it quickly and unwisely. Destitute, he returns to his father to ask for a servant's job and is welcomed as family.

At first glance, I don't find "disobedience" in this story. I see a son taking off and wasting his life. I don't see it as something the son did directly against his father, like his father laying out some rules and the son breaking those rules. There is a lot of waste and pursuit of personal pleasure. I can see how the son's choices probably conflicted with all the wisdom his father tried to instill in him. But what if the son had taken the inheritance and worked it up into a larger set of assets? Would that eliminate the need for this story?

When he returned to his father to beg for help and ask for a role as a servant, he didn't have any successes to report; he could offer no indications of changes in his life that had put him on the right path again. (If he was just looking for a job, I suppose he could've gone to anyone and begged for a role as servant. Perhaps he had a bit of hope in approaching his father, banking on his father caving under a bit of compassion.) That kind of thinking can get in the way of my approaching God...wanting to have some progress to show before I can talk to him.

His father interrupts this thought process, this incorrect thinking of "master/servant" relationship by rushing out and embracing the son and reinforcing that he's still family.

This is a story of parent/child relationship, not master/servant (and Jesus did tell other stories that were clearly about servant/master relationships). I wonder if the original problem was with the spendthrift son wanting to leave the father, wanting to break out on his own and abandon the family connection. The presence of another son (with his own problems) and the father's delight in welcoming back the prodigal son does suggest to me that the original intent was for the (extended) family to remain together, for the son to have never left.

This story came to mind last week in my distance from God as I reflected on my disobedience. In my low state, the phrase "I'm your son" leaked out of my mouth. It wasn't something I said to remind or appeal to God, as if to incur his compassion. It was a reminder to myself, as if God had just asked, "Who are you, again?" waiting for me to remember that I'm his son, to see myself as he does. He didn't want me to run off and disconnect from him (irregardless of whether I work up my assets to my success or end up in poverty). Then and now, I'm his son, and he wants me to remember that.