So, I’m on another plane. I can’t seem to go more than 90 days before my feet get restless in some way again. This time, I’m not flying to Africa, back home from Asia, or returning to Spain. I’m flying to Sacramento. It’s not that glamorous, I know. And I’m sitting here after another conversation with a stranger, as I often find myself, and once again; am reflecting on my life up to this point. One half-watched movie and halfway through a playlist later, here we are:
What happened when the prodigal son came home?
A friend of mine asked me that the other day. I can’t lie, it definitely made me chuckle because I can only imagine.
Or I can relate.
Being the romantic that I am, I’m a sucker for a good story. I spent my childhood filling my head with stories and legends. I’ve watched countless movies, devoured books, and like most of us I’ve definitely gone through periods of my life wasting precious moments on Netflix. And all of these stories that I know and love, they have an air of finality about them. Whether I agree with the ending or not, they end. They come to a close. The drama is; well, over.
I don’t want to think about what happened after the Lord of the Rings trilogy ended. Frodo got to rest, Sam and Aragorn became fathers and kings, etc. The characters reached the end of their arcs, their struggle ended, and it was on to happily ever after
Most of you reading this are very familiar with my life story; or at least, you know pieces of it. In the most humble and thankful way, I’ve lived an absolutely incredible life. I don’t need to go into details here. I’ve been there and done that. I’ve tasted and seen and stumbled and got back up again. I’ve been broken and healed and restarted again and again.
And I’ve wandered off so many times. I’d taken the precious gift of life that I had been given and squandered it on all the things the World had to numb me. So, I went out on a journey. I packed my things into a backpack, and I took off! Not to find myself, but rather to find where “myself” ended. I yearned for a life that was greater that self-gratification. And I learned some important lessons along the way. I’m not that important, my life isn’t about me, life is hard, I’m not in control, and I am going to die. I wandered the earth for two years sitting before masters and sages. I cried, I laughed, I ate, I broke, I led, I failed, I healed.
I got home from G42 equipped for a life of Kingdom on Earth. That I would receive the love of God and love myself, love Him back, and love others.
Marry the girl. Cut to scene of salt and pepper Nick throwing his kids in the air. Sit on my porch and smoke a pipe while my greatest friends gather around for a meal. Wow.
And life just doesn’t work like that. At least, not in that sort of succession. I’m not saying that it’s bad at all. This life is increasingly more beautiful as the days go by.
But I digress, what happened when the Prodigal son came home? You’re probably aware of the story. The son who wished his Father dead wandered off and fell to every temptation of the world. He said yes to all the world had to offer. He reaches rock bottom. He feels shame and pride swell in him, so he sets out to beg the father for scraps. He’s still acting like he can fix himself. He still believes that it’s his actions that lead to his salvation. (That’s a blog in itself)
And while he was still a long way off, the Father runs to him. By doing this before the village could denounce him and shun him for life (they would do this to effectively wish him death in the same way he wished his Father dead), the Father essentially moved all of the blame assigned on his son, to himself. He lifted his robes, exposed his legs and ran to his son. He threw a cloak around him, to give him all of the royalty that he had left behind. His cloak would have been covered in perfume, in a way the Father way saying, you look like me, you even smell like me. He put a ring on his finger to say, “All that I have authority over, is yours, all of it. You’ve done nothing to earn it, but here it is; my life’s work, yours now”.
Cut to the end of the parable, and the Son is feasting with his friends and celebrating a return he didn’t earn. I bet the next Monday went great. I bet he got back to work and lived in harmony with his Father. And the Monday after that and the Monday after that.
But what about 90 days later, when one of the people who knew him from his rebellion against his Father, comes walking through town? What happened when a woman he had been intimate with sees him at the supermarket? I wonder what his heart went through when one his old friends offered him the same drugs that he indulged in before. I wonder if he met someone on his journey. You and I know both know, even after we are forgiven, we feel regret and shame. I wonder if he got drunk to cope with the pain.
This story called life is so much longer than we can comprehend, and it rushes by faster than we can grab a hold of it. So much of my life has been spent trying to write this incredible story. Stories, I should say. Stories of overcoming adversity, getting back on my feet, being a good man. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to write a love story for the ages. And you know what? It hasn’t worked out so far, and that’s ok. I mean I have felt incredible highs and terrible, horrible lows. I’ve been so at peace and content, and I’ve wept in agony. I’ve sat on my porch eating tapas and drinking wine with people I love, and I’ve crumbled to my knees on the dirt roads of the third world in failure.
Why am I writing this? To get over myself, I hope. I’m so blessed. And I think I’m just trying to be honest with everything going on within me. God is still working! And I’m still failing. I’m still falling short. I’m still learning to love the taste of humility. I’m still learning to choose love over the moment. I’m learning that I’m 23 and I make seemingly world ending and life altering mistakes. The truth is I’m not that important. Life isn’t about me. I’m about it.
And I’m on the journey! I’m on the road. And I’ll get there. We all will. We really can’t miss this. The only way we miss out on what God has in store for us, is we have to pull an Adam and Eve. We have to decide that we want to be our own gods; that our will is the most important thing in the universe. We have to reach the sane decision that our wants and desires are more important than the whole of the world. I find myself upset that I’m not in control. Even though, the best things in life, we have no control of.
That’s so rich and I do it so often! I want to be my own little god. I want to run and act like He hasn’t already ran to me to save my life and take me back in. He says, “You look like me, smell like me, act like me, walk like me, talk like me, everything good about you is ME”.
Well, who is He?
A term that get thrown around often is, “God is love”. It’s cute if we don’t dive into the profound holiness of that statement. Alright, God is love. Fine. What is love? Well, Paul gives us his best crack at the character of Love, and then by nature, God. We were made in His image. We are meant to resemble and adopt His very nature. Jesus says in John 17 that He came to make the very character of God known to us. So, who is this God and what does He look like?
I’m going to take the liberty of inserting ‘God’ where the word ‘Love’ existed in
1 Corinthians 13:
“God is large and incredibly patient. God is gentle and kind to all. It refuses to be jealous when blessings come around to someone else. God doesn’t brag about His achievements nor inflate its own importance. God does not traffic in shame and disrespect, nor selfishly seek its own honor. God is not easily irritated or quick to take offense. God joyfully celebrates honesty and finds no delight in what is wrong. God is a safe place of shelter, for it never stops believing the best for others. God never takes failure as defeat, because it never gives up. God doesn’t stop loving…there are three things that remain: faith, hope, and God. And God is bigger than them all. So, above all else, let God be the beautiful prize for which you run”
I want to look like Him. I want to smell and feel like Him. I want to be like Him. And I guess I have to accept my humanity to get there. Because to be kind and gentle, to be content, to be humble and to have my nature be that of relentless Love….yeah. That’s dope.
So, in such uncertain times, my fellow prodigals, have hope, and have faith. But above all else in the season, give yourself Grace. Hold onto Love. When we want to go backward, we get to choose thankfulness and remind ourselves of what the Father is, and what He looks like. Where he goes, peace follows. The oppressed get liberated and the captives get set free. I know I’m working on it. I know I’m learning the hard way to not get so down on myself when I don’t see myself where I want to be. I’m exactly where I need to be. And, we’ll get there.
Finding Gold 