The Prodigal's Brother: Why I wrote the story

To be honest, although I've had my running-away-from-the-Father moments, my life bears a lot more similarities to working hard on the farm then starving in the pigsty.

 

Which is probably why, although I love the story, I just never felt like it was "mine".  I'm not the prodigal.

 

I didn't get the lavish welcome home party because, after all, I never really strayed that far from home.

 

Sometimes I used to wish I could have a dramatic experience like that.

 

When people talk about the story, they usually point out how wonderful the father's love for his prodigal son was – how he ran down the road to meet him, how he threw him a party…

 

But that's only half the story.

 

There's that other brother, too.

 

On the outside, it seemed like the older son was close to his father and enjoying the benefits of his father's resources.  The sad truth was that, while physically close, he was relationally as far away from his father as his brother was in the pigsty.

 

And what does the father do?

 

He steps outside the party to meet Son #1 where he's at.  His response is full of assurance as he reminds him: You're my son.  I'm always here for you.  You have everything in me.

 

I'm not sure exactly when, but eventually this story clicked for me.  Yes, the Heavenly Father loves His still-covered-in-grime-from-the-pigsty prodigals.  But He also loves His tired-and-worn-out-from-slaving-in-the-fields children – no more and no less.  Both are on an equal plane at the foot of the cross.

 

The beautiful truth is that neither rebellion and poor choices nor striving to earn His favor makes a bit of difference.  Because His love is based entirely on Him and not on us.

 

I have a Heavenly Father who urges me in from the exhausting fields of my own self-effort, invites me to sing and dance and rejoice.  This celebration isn't about the prodigals, after all.  It's about His grace.

 

And it dazzles me.