It seems like every time I turn around the story of the Prodigal Son is looking at me. Bible Study - there it is. Church - Pastor is preaching on it. Sunday school - I have to teach it. Reading to Mini-Me - "Please read 'The Boy Who Went Away'".
When stuff like that happens, I figure the Big Guy Upstairs is trying to get my attention.
See, the thing is, I've always had a problem with this story. I relate to the wrong guy. I'm down with the big brother who always did what was right, who didn't run away and squander his inheritance on fast living and prostitutes. When he gets angry with his father at the end of the story for throwing a huge bash for the naughty brother, I totally understand!
I must be too worldly or something. Or not loving enough.
I am trying to get more on board with the way the father not only forgave his messed-up, disloyal, disobedient, selfish, greedy son, but fell on his neck and kissed him! Then he threw a huge celebration! I get (probably on a superficial level) that this is a story about God's forgiveness of all our sins, and how overjoyed He is when we repent and come back. That is super, and I'm grateful for it and need it.
But the thing that sticks in my craw, is that he had NEVER thrown a party for the bro. who stuck around, who did what was right and expected.
What's the deal with that?
If I analyze my reaction to this story (dare I?) I guess that I consider myself to be a "good" person who usually does the right thing. That must be why I relate to the older brother.
I have always struggled with the whole sin thing. Sure, human nature means we are all flawed, make mistakes, choose wrongly, stray from God, ie. sin. But it hasn't been a defining part of my self-image.
Maybe it needs to be?
Still pondering and praying. (will all my posts end this way?)
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