Rings, robes, parties and pig steins

I love the way Jesus told stories.
One of my very favorites is the story of the Prodigal Son. I'm sure the people who heard the story understood a lot more of the cultural significance of that story than I do...what with the ring and the robe and the pig sty (or "pig stein" as one beloved friend calls it). But what's really cool about that story is, regardless of cultural shadings, that story is timeless. And at some point in my life, I've been every character in that story...even the pig.

Right now, I know some prodigals. One has just returned home. Everytime I think of her, I feel exhilarated, knowing that she has returned and is really a daughter of the King (of heaven, not rock and roll, for you Elvis fans out there). One prodigal has just left. He wanted it all NOW, and he left. I hope he avoids the pig steins for a while, but I know that he won't forever. One prodigal reports to me regularly about what is going on in his life. And I'm eternally grateful for that. I love him dearly, and it's amazing that he's on his prodigal journey, but he hasn't cut off ties with some of us left here in the homeland.

The last prodigal I mentioned has taught me something. I used to think that the prodigal son's demanding of his inheritance and leaving was tragic, the sign of a a spoiled, selfish child. In some ways, I still believe that to be true. But I've learned something about that guy...maybe it's not that he was so spoiled and selfish that he had to have HIS way, maybe this move out into the world, this being compelled to independence was necessary. Maybe his whole life, he had served his father well, obeyed him, tried to please him, even took on his father's faith. And maybe he woke up one day and came to the realization that he had the power to please himself...and he left. What if the father anticipated this? He saw it coming. And he wasn't surprised when the son came in and announced what he wanted to do. And amazingly enough, even though the father knew full well what was "out there" and what kind of pain his son might endure, he let him go. Maybe he let him go because he knew it had to happen. The son had to move in some way from pleasing his father because it was expected behavior to pleasing his father because he LOVES his father...no other motivation. And the only way for that to happen was for the kid to move out, please himself, wind up in a pig sty, and come home to a loving, grace filled father who welcomed him like a king. Oh, and let's not forget, the son never quit being the son...he was never cut off from the father's love.

Prodigals have to find out for themselves. They have to cultivate a real, gut wrenching, I-can't live-without-my-Father kind of faith. My faith, their friend's faith, their parent's faith, whoever's faith...someone' else's faith won't do. They can't wear it and pretend it's their own. It has to be theirs. Those prodigals somehow find their way home. And when they do, they find The Father who welcomes them back like royalty and never ever stopped watching for their return.

I used to be a prodigal. I used to be the jealous sibling. And when I was the pig...well, that's another story for another time. Now, it seems, I'm the one watching, anticipating, knowing that someday, the ones I love who are on a prodigal journey will return home to our Father.

So.
Plan the party.
Size the ring.
Dry clean the robe.
And let's wait....