The Prodigal Son

The Prodigal Son is my favorite of Jesus’ parables. It always has been. I think it’s the picture of the father disgracing himself as he runs down the road to meet his bonehead of a son while he’s still “a long way off” that I love.

Even though that’s the part of the story that I love so much, I think if I was a character in the story I’d be the older brother. You know, the one who gets all upset because his bonehead of a brother is getting a party thrown for him even though he’s been a complete jerk. I’m just like the older brother in a lot of troubling ways. I’ve never gone through a real rebellion of any kind in which I acted out against God or my family. In fact, I’ve pretty much followed the rules my whole life and never really gotten myself into too much trouble at all. That’s not the troubling part, though.

What I don’t like is that I think the older brother in the story has a valid point. I totally identify with him. He’s been good and obedient his whole life. He didn’t defy his father, waste his wealth, or make any super stupid choices. He just worked hard and wanted to know why he didn’t get a party every once in awhile. “C’mon, dad,” he’s saying, “This brother of mine treated you like dirt and now we’re having our very own Mardi Gras for him. I’ve treated you with nothing but loyalty and respect and I get nothing.” (New Revised Jake Version)

Then dad says, “Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.”

The father’s response stirs two things in me: First, the father is pleased that the older brother has stayed with him. He even reminds the brother that everything the father has is also his. Second, the older brother seems to have forgotten (or never fully realized) how magnificent it is when one who is lost comes home. In fact, it’s even more than being lost and found; it’s that one was dead and is now alive.

In a lot of ways I completely take for granted the blessings that the Father has given to me. Somewhere in my subconscious it’s like I’m waiting for the really obvious blessings (like winning the lottery [an extra-special blessing since I don't play], getting a good job, getting to see my family more often, etc.) and I forget that I’m living them. Also, like the older brother I have come to minimize the excitement and importance that surrounds the acceptance of the Lord into the life of a non-believer.

I hope that if Jesus’ story kept going it would end like this: “The older brother then understood the importance of his brother’s homecoming. He went into the house to get his freak on with the rest of the party guests. Who knew fattened calf tasted so good!”