Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection do not make any of us “worthy” in the sense of earning God’s favor through our own effort. Scripture is blunt: every human being is a sinner who falls short (Romans 3:23). None is righteous on their own (Romans 3:10). Our righteousness is like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). What the cross and empty tomb do accomplish is far better. God made the sinless Christ to be sin for us so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:21). While we were still sinners, Christ died for us; we are justified by His blood (Romans 5:8-9). Salvation is by grace through faith—not of ourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works (Ephesians 2:8-9). The believer’s standing is Christ’s perfect righteousness credited to them, not something they must continually earn or maintain by institutional loyalty, endless self-improvement, or returning to a particular group. Philippians 3:9 puts it plainly: not a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ. Colossians 1:12 even uses language of being “qualified” or “made meet” to share in the inheritance—not because we worked harder, but because the Father has already done it through the Son. This is finished work. It is not a treadmill of perpetual proving.Gerald Flurry’s brand-new book, The Father’s Love, whose introduction (published in the September 2026 Philadelphia Trumpet) takes Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15 and turns it into an urgent appeal to “God’s prodigal sons”—specifically those Flurry labels Laodiceans who have left his Philadelphia Church of God. Flurry correctly notes that the father in the parable represents God the Father. The younger son demands his inheritance, leaves, squanders everything, and finally “comes to himself.” He returns rehearsing a speech of unworthiness: “I am no more worthy to be called thy son.” The father sees him from a great way off, runs, embraces, kisses, and restores him completely—best robe, ring, shoes, fatted calf—without a single lecture. Flurry writes movingly of the father’s joy and of heaven’s rejoicing over one sinner who repents. He insists God is waiting with open arms for anyone who leaves “His Church” and returns in repentance. He also addresses the older brother, urging faithful members to share the father’s heart. All of that is true to the text of Luke 15. The irony is so thick you could cut it with a knife. For roughly two decades, Gerald Flurry has enforced a strict no-contact policy that requires PCG members to completely sever relationships with former members and anyone deemed “Laodicean”—including their own parents, children, siblings, and closest friends—except in very narrow cases involving an unconverted spouse who is “pleased to dwell,” or you are one of the PCG elite where this rule has never applied.In a December 2005 Pastor General’s Report and subsequent sermons, Flurry clarified that partial contact (“as long as religion is not discussed”) is not forbidden, but later he said the cut-off is to be total. He has described the pain this causes as useful: God wants the “sting” of shunning to drive people back. Former members and their families have documented years of silence, broken marriages, children cut off from grandparents, and in at least one tragic case a daughter’s body returned only after years of enforced separation. So the same organization that has systematically broken families in the name of “protecting the Church” is now publishing a book that celebrates a father who runs to the returning son and refuses even to let him finish his speech of unworthiness. Flurry tells “prodigals” that the Father is watching the horizon. Meanwhile, his own policy has instructed loyal members to keep those same people firmly off the horizon. The parable’s father never demanded the son rejoin a specific human organization or submit to a particular man’s government before the embrace. He simply saw repentance and rejoiced. Flurry’s version quietly inserts an extra condition: return to this church, accept this authority structure, and then the kisses and the feast can begin. That is not the father’s heart in Luke 15. That is institutional control dressed up in biblical language. True worthiness before God is not restored by crawling back into any human group. It was secured once for all at the cross and confirmed by the resurrection. Believers already stand clothed in Christ’s righteousness. They do not have to keep working to become worthy; they already are declared so by grace through faith. Any teaching that turns the father’s open arms into a recruitment tool for a particular organization has missed the point of the parable—and of the gospel itself. Flurry’s book may move some readers with its description of divine compassion. The lived history of the Philadelphia Church of God under his leadership tells a very different story about how that compassion has actually been practiced toward those who walked away. The contrast is not subtle. It is the definition of irony.
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