Today is Sunday. At church this morning, the scripture passage that my pastor was to preach on was from the book of Luke, the parable that Jesus tells concerning the prodigal son. (See Luke 15:11-32, in case you are not familiar with it.) Rather than expounding on the possible interpretations and applications of this passage, my pastor chose to simply explain the parable, offering insight into the cultural facets that impact the events of the story in Jesus’ time. He then challenged us to leave and allow the story to sit with us, so that that the story Jesus offered to the people way back then could speak to us today as well.
Now to be clear, I have heard this story before. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was covered exhaustively in a seminary class I took once. There have been times when I have felt like the wayward son, having chosen poorly, forced to crawl home with my head held low in shame. There have also been times when I could associate more with the older brother, who despite his faithfulness feels unseen and forgotten by his father. Today however, I tried not to see myself in the story at all. I played the role of the audience, one of the “sinners” that Jesus was speaking to that day. I let the story be a story and the characters just be characters in that story, not necessarily people that I need to associate myself with. I listened, and then I left with an open heart to understand what Jesus was trying to say that day.
There is another story that I have been sitting with today as well. As much as I hate to admit it, there are times when I am a silly girl whose thoughts get stuck reliving past mistakes and unfortunate incidences that I would love to erase from my personal history book. In my case, these usually involve “relationships”. Now I use that word loosely because I don’t necessarily mean romantic relationships (although there are definitely plenty of incidences there I would like another shot at). No, I unfortunately struggle with all facets of human interaction at times. Take for example a conversation I had once with a very dear friend of mine. While driving cross-country together, she began to open up to me about some very personal issues she was struggling with at the time. I felt so honored that she felt comfortable enough to share these inner secrets with me, and arrived in Texas feeling the bond of our friendship tightened immensely. A few days later though, it somehow came out that the conversation hadn’t gone nearly as well as it had in my mind. Apparently you see, while she poured her heart out to me, I sat silent. Completely silent. And after she finished baring her soul to me, I didn’t respond. At all. When I did finally say something, it was to comment on the scenery. At the time, I didn’t realize I was doing this at all, but in hinds sight I could see that she was right. I was completely engaged in the conversation, in my mind, but never actually spoke the words that I was thinking. No acknowledgements, no comments, no questions, just silence and inner processing.
This hasn’t been the only time that I have been guilty of miscommunication either, not even the worst in fact. Having suffered in the past due to my social ineptitudes, I have become increasingly more self critical of myself in this area. I relive even simple conversations in my mind, searching for mistakes or omissions. Those that know me well know that a random apology or clarification two days after the fact is not uncommon. Maybe that is why I like writing so much, it allows you the chance to review and edit before putting your words out there.
Anyway, to get back to where I began, today something unique struck me in this parable that Jesus told. Today I was struck by the role of the father in this story, specifically how he interacted with each of his sons. It was as if he knew what they were going to say before they even said it. The image of the father was not compromised by the actions of his sons. He was an ideal father, not limited by the chains of pride, self-image, hurt, and loss that real men (and women) deal with. One point that my pastor made when explaining this story was that in that culture, this story would never have happened. From beginning to end, the cultural norms at that time and place made a scenario like this impossible. So then what is the message in an unfeasible story? Today, for me, the message was a reminder of the grace of God.
As I mentioned, I struggle with my words sometimes. I know that I have hurt people who are very dear to me by careless things that I have said. Relationships have ended over things that I haven’t had the courage or insight to say until it was too late. Sometimes I just cannot figure out how to express the things that I feel, be it love, gratitude, hurt, sympathy, even excitement or happiness. As silly as this may sound, while some people’s greatest struggles are with lust, substance abuse, greed, pride, mine is with words. It kills me to think of the power that my words and action possess, and it breaks my heart that I just cannot seem to get out of my head sometimes and engage with those around me. If there was one bad habit that I could break it would be this endless cycle of stunted interaction and painful self-critique.
The day when I first truly understood the grace of God was the day that I realized that he knew me. Not the Me that the world saw, but the Me that I saw. That day I realized the beauty of this grace: my words can’t screw it up. The relationship between man and God is built on grace, which allows us freedom to live. Like the father in the story, God’s grace towards us is an ideal; it is not impacted by the flaws and misgivings of man. I can fail miserably at life, yet I always have a home with God. This is one relationship in my life that my words cannot break.
Today, this story reminded me that even though my words have the potential to destroy me, I have a Father who is more powerful than my failures, more influential than my words. I will never escape the frustrations I have with relationships, and unless I become a hermit living in a mountain cabin somewhere, I will still continue to say and do things that I later regret. But I will always have a Father who will run to me when at my lowest, no matter how great the distance that I have put between us, and he will great me with restoration, not condemnation. Then he will walk with me down the path of reconciliation and guide me in the ways of love.
3 comments:
I have to say there are two things about what I have read. 1) you are an amazing writer! I have read your blogs etc before and I always like them. This was great and I loved it. It made me think of things I never have before.
2) I am touched you wrote about our trip. I had no idea you even remembered that conversation or that it had that type of impact on you. You honestly have no idea what that meant to me. Well, for someone who has a hard time with words you did an awsome job living the parable to me tonight. You say you have felt like the "good" son. THe main aspect of being him is being ignored. No one pays attention to what he says or who he is. I also feel like that a lot of the time. What you wrote made me feel like I was heard, thought of, and taken seriously. Not only did you do a beautiful job with what you wrote, but it was multi-layered with a great depth. I just sat here for 5 mins digesting what your point was. I will read your work and grow from you any time.
I used to really be bothered by this story. No, honestly, I really used to hate this story. When I realized what Kris was going to preach about Sunday I almost immediately tuned him out. Almost. Something made me want to give this story another chance. to see how Kris would teach it. At first I was like what a rotten younger son, and yeah I relate to the older son until his Father said this to him, "Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found." It struck me that the older brother's heart was wrong, and that mine has been wrong too. What an amazing love this father shows to both of his sons. I realized then that this story was and always has been about God, our Heavenly Father. Man I feel dense.
Thank you for sharing your heart with us. Words are so meaningful and have the power to shape us, our relationships, and our lives.
You write beautifully, and you most certainly do have a way with the written word. I love that you said, "I can fail miserably at life, yet I always have a home with God. This is one relationship in my life that my words cannot break."
and "Today, this story reminded me that even though my words have the potential to destroy me, I have a Father who is more powerful than my failures, more influential than my words." and finally I love this, "I will always have a Father who will run to me when at my lowest, no matter how great the distance that I have put between us, and he will great me with restoration, not condemnation. Then he will walk with me down the path of reconciliation and guide me in the ways of love."
You are quite quotable!
Write more often!
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