Reason #426

Some days I feel just like the prodigal son… or daughter in my case. Today was one of those reflective days where heart issues begin to surface and I don’t necessarily like what is rising to the top. One of those days where it’s hard to face the truth. Days where the only thing you’re feasting on is crow and it’s bitter, disgusting, and it kind of makes you gag as it slowly slides down your throat.
 

The son left, choosing to turn away from a perfectly good father. One who loved him dearly, who took care of him, provided for him, and protected him. A father who loved him so much that he even gave him precious and desirable things to leave with. And how many of us, when being rejected and abandoned would say, “Hey, while you’re on your way out the door, take these valuable things with you. Take my prized possessions, the things I have worked so hard for, the things that mean a lot to me and go with them.” Because we know full well what is going to happen to those things. They are going to be wasted, spent, and depleted. These things are going to be carelessly thrown away because why would one take such good care of material things when they showed no care by walking through that doorframe? Well, regardless, those things were freely given and the choice to give was as intentional as the choice to walk away.
 

Above all that was taken, I think the most valuable thing taken was a piece of the father’s heart. And whether or not he knew it at the time, the son was taking this very thing with him. Ripping it out ever so viciously and leaving with it. The father had already given him so much in the first place but the taking didn’t stop there. He demanded, and left with, more than he realized. Taking advantage of one who was freely giving.
 

It didn’t take long to run through it. Material things can only take you so far, and you can only get so far on your own will, your own strength, and your own determination. Eventually, you find yourself worn out wondering how you got there and why you made that decision. Lying in a pen with pigs feeling completely disgusted and disappointed with yourself. If only you had stayed there you wouldn’t be here now. If only you had kept your priorities in order rather than letting selfishness get in the way. If only you hadn't pursued your own agenda.
 

But when he had had enough, he went home. Head hanging low, full of remorse and feeling completely embarrassed, he made the trek back home. Back to the one whose heart he had ripped to pieces. Back to the one whose possessions he had carelessly squandered and thrown away. Empty handed and he had nothing to show for himself except shame, humiliation, and the fact that he was completely hopeless on his own.
 

Maybe it seems like a stretch to compare ourselves to the prodigal child. Maybe we really haven’t done anything “that bad.” We’ve been pretty good, nothing terrible has happened, we haven’t acted out, but we’ve wandered. We’ve asked much of our father and when he gave it, we took it and walked away. I’ve got this, I don’t need your help anymore, I am fine on my own, let me just do what I want. And with each step in the other direction, we’ve taken a piece of His heart with us. We walked on because we’re selfish, we walked on because we felt entitled, we went in that direction because we thought we were capable enough to handle it out in this big world on our own two feet. Feeling so self sufficient only to realize that we’re completely incapable and miserably hopeless on our own. One step, a slow process, but each step adds up.
 

The walk back home is humbling yet comforting. I have to believe that even though the son was terrified about the reaction he might receive, at least he was finally getting to go home. The place of comfort, of rest, a place where he was loved and accepted. And this is how I feel today. On the trek back home. Because I’ll be honest with you, the steps have added up. The Lord has given me so much and I took it and ran. Ran with good things all the while forgetting that leaving meant I would eventually run out. However, I’m thankful that running out requires that I walk back home. And just like the father of the prodigal son, my Father stands anxiously awaiting my return. Ready to embrace me and welcome me back. Asking no questions, not reprimanding me as I deserve, but rejoicing that we’re in one another’s presence again. Rejoicing in the shared fellowship and pouring out more undeserved goodness over a wandering soul.
 

I’m glad to serve a God like that. One who rejoices when I return even though I was the one who intentionally wandered off. One who will take a hungry soul and feed it with the best of things. Who will continue to love me in spite of my huge flaws, who will once again, clothe me in His righteousness as He welcomes me back into His presence.

 

#426 - For the walk back home to my Father.

 

"So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." - Luke 15:20