What do we have left?
No money? Food? Friends?
Should we move?
Can we start over?
Conversation over. I'm going home.
The prodigal son is my life story. Always going from one thing to another, somehow forgetting to bring the most important part with me. I tell the story and leave out the best part. You can run and run, and poke your nose into everything that pleases you in some way, anything that brings temporary fulfillment. Anything to make you feel less lonely, but in the end, you will come home.
Left to my own devices, I run to empty, sputter, and stall. Somewhere in the middle of the trip, I wonder if I have gone to far to have enough energy to get home, if I will drown this time, realizing too late that I am going nowhere, but can't turn back.
The prodigal son nearly killed his father with heartbreak, walked away through the gate and out of his life. No postcards, no letters, no phone calls home. No intention of returning. He had all this money and the opportunities were endless. He had so much fun spending it all, giving himself over to whatever came his way, whatever filled him up. Then he was broke and empty. He was broken from the false promises, the allure of the splendor of the big city. He had to go home, to beg for forgiveness.
It is beautiful that Jesus used this story. It gives people like me hope that He really means it when He say's "Nothing can separate you from the love of God." No matter how many times we nail him to that cross, He still begs the Father to forgive us, because we do not know what we are doing.
Have you stopped lately to really remember what that means. It is easy to get caught up in failure and start believing your are a failure. As much of a jerk I can be, He still wants me as a son. Coming from a person who had no dad, this is hard for me to realize until I look at my own son. He could reject me over and over and I would still walk in front of a bus for him. Jesus did worse to prove that.
If the devil has you. If you believe what he tells you: Remember what God said.
If it weren't for grace, I would be the person beating my back with the whip until I was out of strength. Because the whip was made for the fool. But instead, Jesus took the whip. Forgave me. And said this is enough. So it is.
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