What About Me?

But his older son was in the field; and as he returned and came near the house, he heard music and dancing.

 And having called one of the servant [boys] to him, he began to ask what this meant.

 And he said to him, Your brother has come, and your father has killed that [wheat-]fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and well.

 But [the elder brother] was angry [with deep-seated wrath] and resolved not to go in. Then his father came out and began to plead with him,

                --Luke 11:25-28 Amplified

I am a prodigal. 

Did you know that?

Like the younger son in Luke 11, I too have gone my way. I've experienced loss and its after effects first hand. I've lived with the consequences of wrong mind sets, bad choices, and out right rebellion. I can tell you what it is like to find myself on the backside of nowhere, my prayers seemingly bouncing off the sky, knowing full well I've wandered farther than anticipated and stayed there way longer than I ever should have. 

I am also the prodigal's father (so to speak).

I could offer you a chair and a steaming cup of coffee and regale you with a front row account of what it is to watch your kids go through troubling circumstances, storms of life that I have absolutely no control over whatsoever. I can speak honestly and directly about tears shed in the shower, so chosen because the tears blend in to the water already pouring down my face, asking myself what I did or didn't do enough of to cause my kids to make the choices they've made. I can walk with you through many scenarios of watching helplessly as they struggle through this thing, that thing, or something completely unspeakable; sometimes the struggle is through their choice while other times the struggle is because of someone or something else. I can describe the pain of guilt and feelings of failure, whether real or imagined. I can tell you rather boldly of the loneliness and sadness of watching for a child that I quite frankly have no way of knowing if they will ever "come home" or not. 

But what about the prodigal's older brother?

You remember him, don't you? He's the one who stayed while his younger brother took his inheritance and fled. He's the one who continued to work the lands, keep up the daily "swing of things," and to help keep the home fires burning. He's the one who watches his father's heart break even more with each day that passes and his kid brother remains gone. He's the one watching his father age a piece at a time as he watches and waits for a child he has no way of knowing if he will ever return home. He's also undoubtedly angry having to take on twice the workload seemingly without any acknowledgement or gratitude on the part of his father. His brother was lost in a foreign country. Yet this brother is every bit as lost without ever leaving the front yard. 

The older brother? Every bit as lost? How is that even possible? 

But he answered his father, Look! These many years I have served you, and I have never disobeyed your command. Yet you never gave me [so much as] a [little] kid, that I might [i]revel and feast and be happy and make merry with my friends;

 But when this son of yours arrived, who has devoured your estate with immoral women, you have killed for him [j]that [wheat-] fattened calf! (Luke 15: 29-30)

Did you catch that?

"I have served you...I have never disobeyed your command..."

Read on...

"Yet you never gave me [so much as] a [little] kid, that I might revel and feast and be happy and make merry with my friends..."

I see a pattern here...

"These many years I have served you..." Not, "You've been a good dad to me," or "I love you, Pops. You've been such a good role model to me. I hope when I'm a dad I'm half the dad you have been!" 

"I have never disobeyed your command..." Acts of service rather than love and relationship, something most every parent hopes for from their children. 

"Yet you never...." Not stopping to count the cost of all of the years of work and sacrifice on the part of the father, the older brother is counting, tracking, keeping score of what he did or didn't earn. He loses sight on all that his father has given for as well as to him and these things are quickly reduced to earnings rather than gifts of grace.

"But when this son of yours arrived, who has devoured your estate with immoral women, you have killed for him that [wheat-] fattened calf!"

And there it is! "This son of YOURS!" Not "my brother;" "this son of YOURS!" His heart and mind are so full of rage, bitterness, resentment, unforgiveness, and judgment that he cannot even force his lips to form the words "my brother." Does it matter to him that his brother has returned home? Absolutely not. All that matters is that his brother has returned home after living a less than righteous life to a welcome that, in the mindset of his older brother, he had no business receiving and in no way deserved. 

In other words, "What about me?"

The older brother has a tendency to get a sort of bad rap for his attitude but, folks, we're no different. How many of us have spent our lives in performance mode, jumping through this hoop, that hoop, or some other type of hoop in order to gain love, approval, affection, acceptance? How many of us have had to keep on jumping through these hoops to keep what we felt we attained and when we saw someone else reaping the benefits of our hoop jumping while putting in little to no effort what was our reaction? Harsh? Unforgiving? Bitter? Resentful? Judgmental? 

How many of us have carried that same mindset into our relationship with God, thinking we have to jump through the hoops of service, study, church attendance, and such? How many of us keep our hands to the plow not out of love but duty, believing God's love is only ours if it's worked for? 

How many of us honestly rejoice when a prodigal comes home?