Prodigal Son - Reduex

Once upon a time, because all good tales begin that way, there lived a Texas cattle rancher who was well off. By that, I mean filthy rich; J.R. Ewing, Dallas style rich. And this rancher had two sons; one good, one...not so much. Both sons had been raised on the ranch, had worked the ranch since they were young. For the older, good son, this was fine. He wanted nothing more than to see the ranch succeed, and take it over after his father died. It was his secret dream.

But the younger son's dream was not for the ranch. He hated it there, and let his father know every chance he got. This son had goals and dreams beyond those fences. His passion consumed him daily. He wanted to be the first male gold medalist in ...ribbon dancing! The graceful wrist movement, the perfect spiral achieved, this was his heart and soul. But ribbons, and costumes, and all the rest he needed cost money, money he didn't have. So he went to his father.

"Daaaaaaad" he whined, "you KNOW I don't want to be here! You KNOW I want to be a ribbon dancer! You've GOT to give me the money to pursue my dream! It's all I Waaaaant!"

"Son, I don't know if..."

"Daaaaaaad! You NEVER let me do what I want! You don't LOVE me! Just buy my portion of the ranch, and you'll NEVER see me AGAIN!"

"OK, son, if that's what you want."

So the son collected his things, and left for the Las Vegas Olympic Facility for Ribbon Dancing (LVOF-RD). Weeks went by and costs mounted up. Before long, he was borrowing money from the other dancers to cover his costs. The expenses, the gambling, the extravagance, the wild parties, and the dancing. Oh, the dancing! He would twirl and twirl and twirl till he fell down, which he did...a lot. Finally, the coach came to him.

"Kid, you're not working out here. I'm cutting you from the team. Get out by tomorrow."

"But, Coach, I got nowhere to go; no money to get there!"

"Alright, I need someone to dry clean the costumes. You can stay in the basement, and eat whatever is left from the other dancer's lunches."

If you've never seen a ribbon dancer eat, don't worry. No one else has either. The tiny, wilted shreds of lettuce were not enough for even the rats in the basement, and the dry cleaning chemicals had burned his hands and eyes. He had enough. He would go back home. At least there he could work as a hired hand. At least there he would have meat again! With just the clothes on his back, he hitchhiked back to the ranch.

While he was walking that last stretch of Texas road, still about a half mile away, his father saw him from the gates at the head of the driveway, and ran to meet him. The son said "Father, I know I don't have a part in the ranch, but I'd like to come work for you, if I can."

But the father would have none of that! He got his son's old duster and put it on him. He got the family ring and put it on his finger. He said "Boy, you're skinny as a rail! Come here and eat. We'll throw a shindig like this ranch has never seen! My son was dead, and now he's alive, was lost, now he's found!"

And the moral of the story? If you are a prodigal ribbon dancer, you can go home again. You can return to the Father. Are you afraid of his response? Do you expect his full wrath to come down on you? You don't have to worry. The Father is waiting at the gate even now, waiting to run down the road to meet you, kiss you, feed you, clothe you, love you. All you need to do is...come.

Prodigal

"While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." Luke 15:20
(If you've not read through this story in a while, it's in Luke, chapter 15. A Hallmark movie moment if there ever was one.)

A few years back, more than I care to mention, I wrote a song with a friend of mine, Ray Dilworth, called "Prodigal". The chorus went like this:

Prodigal - always trying to run away.

Prodigal - got to have things your own way.

Prodigal - got no place to call your own.

Oh, Prodigal, won't you please just come back home.

 

It's a funny thing, that we will often run from what we love, to achieve what we want. An independent, self-reliant, call your own shots kind of living, because we fear the bonds that love creates will hold us back. Then, when the brass ring we chased after turns green, we think the bonds of love we ran from could never be strong enough to return to. Broken forever, with too much pride or guilt to ever be bonded again.

 

 

But that's no how true love works. True love isn't based on "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours". The son in the story no longer felt he was worthy of love, but love isn't based on worth. The father had spent every day at the gate looking for his son, but giving him the choice to run away or run home. When he saw him, still a long way off, did he wait for him at the gate? No, he ran to his son! Did he tell him everything he did wrong, make sure he was good and sorry? No, he gave him a robe, and rings, and sandals, and put on a feast!

 

 

Maybe we don't come to God because we fear what He will do. The term "wrath of God" comes to mind. But then we are forgetting "a clean and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise". (Psalm 51:17) Turn to God, and his arms will embrace you in love, not crush you into submission. There is no greater joy in the heart of God, than to see a child come home. And the retuning child is robed in His deep, never-ending love, not lashed with a whip.

 

Oh, Prodigal, won't you please just come back home?