The Impatient, Running Father

History has called me “the prodigal son.” But you have never heard my story. Jesus knew. He lived next door in Nazareth. The arrogance of the Pharisees may have awakened his memory. I heard him say,  “You wash the outside of the cup while the inside stays filthy.” He knew my brother. 

What was it like to live with “Mr. Perfect”? All my childhood,  he tormented me when nobody was looking. Kicked me around,  mocked me, like I was worthless. When Dad came around, he was all pure and innocent and law-abiding. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. When I got old enough, I had to go.  I had to make my own way. So I left. Can you blame me? It took me eight years to come home. I saw a lot in those years.  I grew to be a man. I tried to make it on my own. I got lost so many times. Why did I stay away so long? The problem wasn’t the money.  The problem was facing his look of superiority, his loathing that  I couldn’t make it. I’d rather die than come crawling back to that.

My father? When I was a teenager, I took him for granted.  He was simply there. I was so bottled up about my brother that I  just . . . didn’t see him. 

One evening, when I pressed on my belly button, I could feel my spine. I was dying of hunger. That night, I dreamed of my father’s eyes, full of tears. He was waiting for me, wanting me to come home. 

You know the rest of the story. My brother hasn’t changed. Life is good. I am sorry that he is too bitter to see that. But it doesn’t matter.  I still love him. 

My father wants me to be close. I want to be near. It is good to be here, home with him. 

Consider/Discuss 

• How do we get so bottled up about the pains of earth that we do not see the compassion that surrounds us, the love of the Father who wants us close? 
• What’s it like to be the father in this story who wants his sons to be near?  How is God like that? How does the prodigal feel to be so welcomed? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Father of compassion, only you know the depths of hurt that  family can cause. The pains of earthly life can so bottle us up that  we cannot see straight. In this story, sometimes we are the one who wandered away. Sometimes we are the one who drove the other away. Sometimes we are a bit of each, all messed up from things that  happened long ago. 

Forgive us our bitterness, hates and jealousies. Forgive us our  deepest faults this Lent, dear God. Help us to forgive those who have  hurt us. Yes, we are broken. Yes, we are sinners. You welcome sinners.  You run to meet us. No matter what we have done, you want us to  be near. In you, we have our home. No other home can satisfy. Hold  us close to you, Lord, and never let us go.