The Prodigal

Are you missing someone?

The hardest lessons are sometimes taught when we are young. This was true for me. My brother, five years older than me, ran away at the age of thirteen. And though there are many complex parts to the story (we would later learn he was kidnapped) the impact was the same. An event like that bookmarks your life. From that moment, things would never be the same.

My mom raised four kids on her own. I can remember her sitting at church, right after my brother went missing, and listening to the sermon of the prodigal son. Her expression pained, stoic; tears rolling down her face. It was not hard to draw the parallel between my mom and the father watching the hillside for his son to return. I felt her despondency. It’s just one of those things you never forget.

Oh, how I practiced the things that I would say to my brother if I could.

The important end of the story, is that after a dozen or so years, God reunited my long lost brother to our family. He is today as he was before he left. Funny, honest, and with a heart that loves so unconditionally, so robustly, that the genuineness of his spirit shines through despite what was not an easy early life.

We all have a prodigal, don’t we? A sibling, a friend who goes AWOL, a parent who fell short? Maybe it’s a spouse. Maybe it’s a former colleague, a cousin, an old neighbor with whom you had a bond. Something happened. Perhaps there was a parting of the ways that was not ideal and something in you wants to make amends but can’t.

We don’t always get a second chance.

Our hearts yearn for do-overs. We ruminate, carrying people with us wherever we go even long after they have left our life. We think about what, if we had the chance, we would tell them if we could. We would let them know what they meant to us. Or perhaps that what they felt or said about us was unfair, untrue, and wrong.

I know I do.

Or maybe we are someone’s prodigal friend, sibling, or loved one. Maybe we have left, turned our back somehow, hurt them with our words or deeds. We justify what we did because of this or that. We rattle off the reasons inside our heads like a litany we say before bedtime, while standing in line at the grocery store, while taking out the trash. It’s funny, isn’t it? The people we hurt linger in our hearts too.

We think that out of sight is out of mind. But let’s be honest. Once someone is imprinted on our heart, they can’t be washed away. Time heals us — yes. But there is an indelible mark that cannot be removed no matter how hard we try.

God feels the same way. We are His, and yet we turn our backs, sin, pretend that He doesn’t exist. All the while, He’s there, arms open wide, waiting for us to return. Deep down inside, we know He’s there but we stay away. We think of all the ways we have strayed, messed up, gotten off track. We think there is no turning back. We think that we cannot be forgiven.

But we are. Of all the things God wants to say to us, I think our knowing that He forgives us is at the top of His list.

What would you say to your son if he showed up at your door after a hurtful breach? What about that friend who, in a weak moment, betrayed your trust? The parent who drank too much and was verbally abusive? An unfaithful spouse? The sister who, in her own whirl of circumstances, projected and blamed you for her problems? Some things, honestly, are hard to forgive. Sometimes it is best for us that people remain on the outskirts of our lives.

But the story is rarely ever finished.

There is a script we all have. Like a scene in a movie, we play out what we would say — how we would say it, the gestures, the tone of our voices. But if given the chance, wouldn’t what we really want to say be that which burdens our hearts the most? That we love them. Still.

In the end, it doesn’t matter who said what. It doesn’t matter what they did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change how we reacted or at who’s feet the blame belongs. We are still going to carry them with us anyway.

We are all broken. We all have a story. We all make mistakes. We all think we know what we are doing when we’re doing it. We all feel we are justified. We all want to be validated. And we all have something we want someone else to know.

Pride, ego, guilt, shame, unforgiveness, betrayal, abandonment… These are the things that cause us so much damage. They keep us in bondage. They keep us from watching in the distance for our prodigal to come. All of them — every single one — we can cover over with Grace.

Just like God does for us.

It took twelve years for my brother to find his way home.

It’s never too late.

And now these three things remain: faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

Always.