New Book "Enthroned Above the Circle of the Earth" Illuminates God’s Timeless Process of Creation and Personal Transformation Author Kyeme Chacon Reveals a Powerful, Faith-Building Journey Through the Genesis Creation Narrative In a world filled with uncertainty and change, author Kyeme Chacon invites readers into the steady, sovereign rhythm of God’s creation process in his new book, Enthroned Above the Circle of the Earth . More than a commentary on Genesis, this compelling work explores how the same divine process that formed the world continues to shape individual lives today. Through biblical insight, real-life testimony, and thought-provoking reflections, Chacon uncovers the sacred pattern of God’s hand—from chaos to order, from darkness to light, from brokenness to dominion. “This book was born out of transformation,” Chacon writes, “and my goal is to illuminate the pattern—to show that God’s process is still in motion and that your life is being shaped by it.” Whethe...
The story we call the Prodigal Son is often read from the wrong angle.
The son may wander, fail, and return—but he isn’t the prodigal.
The Father is.
Prodigal doesn’t mean sinful.
It means extravagant, excessive, wastefully generous.
And that’s exactly what we see.
This parable isn’t ultimately about how far the son fell.
It’s about how far the Father was willing to go.
Returning with the wrong conclusion—but the right direction
When the son finally comes to himself, he decides to go home. But he doesn’t return whole. He returns rehearsed:
“I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”
That confession is honest—but it reveals something broken.
He believed something true about the character of the Father,
even while misunderstanding his own identity.
That’s where many of us live.
We believe God is kind.
We believe God is merciful.
But we assume closeness must now be earned through usefulness.
So we return—but smaller.
The Father interrupts our theology
Before the son can finish his speech, the Father cuts him off.
Not because the confession is wrong—but because the conclusion is.
The Father does not allow the son to define himself by failure.
Instead, He turns to the servants and begins restoring him publicly:
The robe (identity)
The ring (authority)
The sandals (status)
The feast (belonging)
Why the interruption?
Because if the son finishes that sentence,
he might start living as something he isn’t.
God does not want cleansed servants.
He wants restored sons.
This is covenant faithfulness—not emotional mercy
The Father’s response is not impulsive.
It’s consistent.
Throughout Scripture, God repeats the same promise:
If you return to Me, I will restore you.
Not if you perform.
Not if you prove readiness.
Not if you earn your way back.
Just—return.
The son comes home with mixed motives and incomplete understanding, but the Father responds with full restoration. Why?
Because God is faithful to who He has said He is, even when we are unsure of who we are.
Adoption dismantles performance
Performance says:
“If I do well enough, I can stay.”
Adoption says:
“Because I belong, I can be restored.”
Notice the order:
Identity before responsibility
Authority before instruction
Celebration before productivity
Nothing is delayed until the son proves himself.
Why?
Because fruit never precedes identity.
It flows from it.
The Father restores him in front of everyone, because God is not just committed to forgiving us—He is committed to being faithful.
Grace also rescues us from false humility
Here’s a quieter truth in the story:
The son wanted to live beneath his calling.
The Father refused to let him.
Sometimes what we call humility is actually unbelief—
a reluctance to accept the fullness of grace.
The Father doesn’t just save the son from rebellion.
He saves him from smallness.
Grace doesn’t merely forgive sin.
It refuses to let sin redefine us.
The Prodigal’s perspective
We often read this story asking, “How far did the son fall?”
But Jesus is inviting us to see something else:
How far would the Father go?
The son returns hoping for mercy.
He discovers a Father who is lavish with restoration.
We don’t come home ready.
We come home honest.
And we don’t come home as servants in waiting.
We come home as sons—whether we realize it yet or not.
That’s the Prodigal’s perspective.
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