Reflections of a Prodigal

With even a cursory evaluation of fifty-eight years of living, one fact rapidly rises above all others.  I have relentlessly been stalked by the grace of God.  I have waited all summer to type those words.  The thought has been running through my mind as we worked our way through a hectic summer.  One of my kids made his annual pilgrimage home from a distant land.  Another stood before me with the woman he had chosen, and spoke the vows of matrimony.  Through it all we were surrounded by family, and trying to pull the most from the few short months that Minnesota summers reluctantly yield to it's inhabitants.  Like I said, hectic.  As I experienced and absorbed it all, the intense realization that my life has been one that has been ferociously pursued by God's grace became so very real to me.  

Perhaps that is why I was so touched when I first heard one of Matt Redman's most recent songs, "Your Grace Finds Me."  If you have never heard it, stop reading right now...find it...and listen to the beautiful words of truth the brother penned.  I'm serious.  Here's a link to help you out.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mqd8MoiCbcI.  What did I tell you?  So I write the thought that has occupied my mind for months....the thought that I have been unceasingly stalked by God's grace....and I'm more than impressed with the way Matt Redman fleshed the thought out in that wonderful song of praise.  I just need to testify of the truth of his words.  I do realize that it's not a unique observation.  Indeed, it is the very core of God's Word to us, but the truth of it has surrounded me this summer.  I just need to say that God's grace has pursued me with reckless abandon, and I suspect that I will be praising him for all eternity for that fact.

Along with it, Jesus' Parable of the Prodigal Son has also been brought to my attention.  I mean it's shown up at every turn for the past few weeks.  In my daily bible reading, a couple times in a book I've been reading, and even in an article on the CNN website. So, spiritually, my mind has been dwelling on God's persistent grace, and his abounding love.  Just a little side note.  The Parable of the Prodigal Son could more aptly be called, "The All Consuming Love of a Father", or something like that.  I'm just saying.

This parable is the longest of all of the parables of Christ and, I am fairly certain, it is probably the most well known.  You know the story.  A father has two sons.  One basically says to his father, "I wish you were dead.  Give me my portion of the inheritance now." The father gives him his portion of the inheritance, the son gets out of the country, lives a wild life style and wastes the money.  He ends up hiring himself out to a man to slop his pigs.  Jesus says that the young man was so hungry that he would gladly have eaten the pods that were in the pig's slop.....but no one was giving him anything to eat. 

Here's how the Message describes the next part:

"That brought him to his senses. He said, 'All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death.   I'm going back to my father. I'll say to him, Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you;  I don't deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.  He got right up and went home to his father."

"When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.  The son started his speech: 'Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your son ever again.' "

"But the father wasn't listening. He was calling to the servants, 'Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We're going to feast! We're going to have a wonderful time! My son is here—given up for dead and now alive!  Given up for lost and now found!'  And they began to have a wonderful time."  (Luke 15:17-24 MSG)

Turns out, the older son was not at all impressed with the party.  He was disgruntled that his father treated his brother so well after he had squandered his inheritance and treated his father so poorly. 

I just love the father's response: "His father said, 'Son, you don't understand. You're with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—  but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he's alive! He was lost, and he's found!' " (Luke 15:31-32 MSG)

Perhaps the reason this parable of Christ's is so well known....so popular....is because we can all relate to it.  I know that I can relate to it from every angle.  I can put myself in the role of each of the characters.

From a human perspective, I can place myself in the role of the father.  As I mentioned, one of my kids makes an annual pilgrimage home from a distant land every summer.  He's not a prodigal son, but he has inherited a wanderlust from somewhere in my gene pool, and is determined to live in any country that is not the United States.  But he comes home every summer, and at the beginning of the summer, I find myself sitting in the same seat at the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport, watching plane loads of people walking down the ramp.  It's odd that he is never in the middle of the mass of people exiting the plane, but usually comes sauntering down the walkway when it is nearly empty.  He's always relaxed and never seems rushed, but when he sees me, he smiles the smile I remember from his childhood. 

What happens inside of me when I see that smile can only be understood by a parent who longs for a child.  I would like to say that I leap from my seat and run to him like the father in Christ's parable.  But sadly, I have a Scandinavian heritage that will not allow such a display of emotion, so I walk to him, hug him briefly, and we head over to claim his luggage.  Let me be clear, however.  On the inside I am like the father sitting on the porch, looking for his son, and when seeing him, my heart pounds....I hike my robe up around my waist, and run to him.  I can relate to the father who hugs the returning son with a hug that stifles his breath and showers him with kisses.

And for the short time he's home we gather at our home with his brothers, and we eat.  It's not like I have a fatted calf ready to slaughter, but I bet we go through half a beef.  Lot's of meals.  Lots of time talking.   Lots of time just being together.  We celebrate.

So, I can relate to the father in this parable.

Spiritually, I can relate to the older brother to a degree.  I am sure, over the decades, that there have been times when I have wondered how my heavenly Father can pour his blessings out on a brother or sister who has strayed from the flock.  I imagine I have been one of the ninety-nine sheep who didn't stray, glancing with an air of judgmental jealously at the Shepherd carrying a lost one back into the fold. I say that I can only relate to the older brother to a degree because, more often than not, I have been the one slung over the shoulder of the Shepard as he carried me back to a place of safety.   

I do not say it with pride, but of the three characters in this parable of Christ's, I can most readily relate to the prodigal.  I suspect that is true of most people, but it is especially true of me.  Pride, ego and self-sufficiency have a tendency to run rampant in me.  As a result, I often find myself slopping the pigs, longing to feed my hunger with the pods or corn husks scattered among the slop.

That is why I need to testify that through fifty-eight years of existence, I have relentlessly been stalked by the grace of God.  That is why the song "His Grace Finds Me," strikes a chord deep in my soul.

In those distant lands....far from home.....far from the Father....metaphorically slopping pigs....God's grace finds me even there.  Like a fog gently covering the landscape, his grace envelops me, reminding me who I really am.  Reminding me who my Father is.  Reminding me of where I belong.

In the Parable of the Prodigal Son, two people moved.  One walked.  One ran.  We prodigals are always the walkers.  Actually, I am usually limping.  But our Father, whose grace never lets go of us, is always scanning the horizon and, when we move toward him, he runs.  He runs, unashamedly, toward his limping, wayward kids and showers them with love.  And then, according to Jesus' story, he throws a party.  We deserve rebuke.  We deserve punishment.  We deserve condemnation.  But we are shown love.  We are shown acceptance.  We are shown compassion.  That, my friend is grace.  And my Father's grace never lets go.