What About the Other Son?

My suite-mate and I were discussing the story of the prodigal son tonight, and it reminded me of my thoughts on the story as of late. People love this story, I used to love it too. At the moment I don't know quite how I feel about it. The story, from Luke 15, is pretty common knowledge. Christians love it. People read it and re-read it, viewing themselves as either the prodigal son, the older son, or the Father depending on their mood.

If we're honest, this story is great for screw ups, but what about the rest of us? I know, I know, we're all sinners, we all screw up... but really. Think about it more. I mean the image of God as our father running to us after we scorned him is breathtaking, but the more I think about the older son, the more perturbed I am by the story. I just don't know friends. Maybe it's because I feel so damn much like the older son, I don't know. It just doesn't seem fair for him. It doesn't seem like the Father's love for him is equal - his inheritance certainly isn't (rather than getting more than the younger brother as per custom, the prodigal son actually ends up with his own inheritance plus half of his brothers.)

So let's look at the latter part of this story. The father is celebrating his son's return, but meanwhile, his other son is out in the fields, hard at work. Nobody tells him about this development of events, nobody is sent to invite him to the celebration. He is completely ignored at his work. He comes home after a hard day of work only to find that his brother has returned.

Just imagine the emotions of the older brother... really really imagine. His brother left and it probably hurt him, and he was probably bitter because now he has to do all this work while his brother is off partying somewhere. He probably is a little jealous, but also angry because his father makes such a big deal about missing his brother that he doesn't feel loved by the Father. The his brother comes back and it's like "Great, second best again even though by every standard I should be the celebrated brother." Bitterness. Anger. Hurt. Rejection. Jealousy. Indignation. Of course he wouldn't join the party!

This is the part I find interesting. My Bible says that the father came out of the party and begged the son to join it. This reflects on the father's character again. He desperately wants for his two sons to be reconciled. He wants the family to be whole again. He is so happy that his youngest son has returned, but he doesn't want his older son to be bitter. He wants him to join in the celebration.

The older son says to his father "I have served you like a slave for many years and have always obeyed your commands. But you never gave me even a young goat to have at a feast with my friends. But your other son, who wasted all your money on prostitutes, comes home, and you kill the fat calf for him!"

Pause. I get this brother. He's so pissed. He's done everything right for all these years only to be overlooked by the brother that caused so much pain and strife in his family. Maybe all these years of work and service weren't spent with a bitter heart either. Maybe they were years of hard but happy work, but once the prodigal brother is rewarded, the bitterness floods in. It reminds him of all the work he has done, all for nothing. He's so angry he can't even refer to the prodigal as his brother. He says to the father "your other son." Ouch. Harsh words.

The father's answer doesn't exactly clear everything up and make this a feel good story either. The father says, "Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. We had to celebrate and be happy because your brother was dead, but now he is alive. He was lost, but now he is found."

I can just imagine the older son. "Ok Dad. He wasn't exactly lost, he chose to leave us."

So many thoughts about this situation... nothing resolved to offer you my friends. Last year I was in a class called Faith Walk at school, and the main attraction of this class was that we all had a class period to share our testimony at some point, and we also spent a lot of time discussing faith and such. Sometimes I got frustrated because throughout high school, I made the right "big" decisions. I loved God and stayed faithful to following him throughout those four years. I didn't abuse or rely on drugs, sex or alcohol. I spent my time serving others, being involved in school, and achieving. I was like a poster child of Mennonite schooling, but yet I wasn't the one acknowledged and rewarded for my good decisions. It was the people who had strayed, who had claimed faith on Sunday but did whatever they wanted the rest of the time. It was the people who made the awful mistakes that impact the rest of one's life, those people, that were rewarded. It was they that somehow had a deeper grasp of faith, who were somehow closer to God.

And I'll tell you what - I didn't buy it. Why would God call us to faithfulness if he would only reveal himself to those who were unfaithful. Why would God call us to sanctified living if he was only going to deepen relationships with those who ignored his teachings? It just didn't makes sense. So I understand the older brother, I totally understand.

Yet, this story makes it clear that the younger brother is the one celebrated. Yet it was the older brother who faithfully did the work for his father, it was the older brother who did right. He made the good decisions. He was the poster child for filial relationships. Yet he isn't the one celebrated. WHY? As my dear friend Anna would jokingly shout to the sky, "Why God Why?!?!"

The Father in the story says, "You are always with me, and all that I have is yours."

What is God trying to say to us? Maybe His presence is reward enough. Maybe relationship with Him is the celebration. Maybe doing His work is supposed to be the prize. I just don't get it though. God's commands are here to protect us, so by following them we are living in God's shalom, his idea of perfect rightness in the world.

I don't know my friends. I don't understand, I haven't wrestled with God and emerged newly renamed and victorious yet - I don't hold an answer to explain away this story. But there is tension there. There is a disturbance to my spirit. Imagine that - the Bible disturbing us comfortable Americans, rather than comforting us. And maybe that's a good thing.

Until we meet again.
Much love,
Beth

Low Points are Holy Points Too

Here I sit, the fourth Friday that I've been in Deerfield, Illinois, and I'm satisfied. I'm happy. I like who I am (mostly)... We have to make our own destiny friends, and coming to Trinity International University is part of my formation as a person. I've started on this great adventure called college a month ago, and already it has so quickly had its ups and its downs. The thing about college is that one day it's great and the next day it sucks, and I think it's ok to say that. I think it's ok to be honest and say that a day sucks.

For some reason, Christians have this idea that to be holy, we have to love every moment of life. God gave us this life and this time and this earth, so we have to rejoice in it every second of every day... right? I 'm not so sure. I think that living is about fully embracing every moment for exactly what it is. Living fully means allowing yourself to fully engage in the different seasons of life, however short or long they are, and choose to fully accept and feel the emotions of the seasons.

The last eight or so months have been a roller coaster of highs and lows, but I've learned how to embrace the ride. God is just as present in the low points, the points of frustration and desperation, as She is in the high points.

I was a counselor at a Christian wilderness camp this summer, and every day we would lead "Lifesearch" with the tent, a time of daily devotion and learning. Our theme for the summer was Hebrews 11:1, and every day we looked at the stories of different characters who made it into the "Hebrews Hall of Fame." There was one story that I only taught once or twice the whole summer, mostly because I was still wrestling with it myself, and didn't know how to resolve it with my belief of who God is. It's the story of Abraham and Isaac, a father who came so close to sacrificing his own child that Isaac felt the harsh bonds of the rope and the cool metal of the knife. There are so many questions I have about this story, but I don't want to delve into that too much now. I've heard many different explanations/interpretations of this story, and while many seem to hold truth, I just don't feel that any of them fully reflect the perfect nature of my God. One of these such explanations is that God was teaching Abraham to hold on to things with open hands, rather than clinging to them, even if this "thing" is his son.

My thought as of late is that this lesson applies to life as a whole too. We can't cling to one season, good or bad. We can't cleave to the good times, or wallow in the miserable ones. There is a time for everything, and we have to be willing to have our hearts moved daily by the Spirit of God. Each emotion, each situation serves a purpose, and we have to be open to that, but also open to the movement from one to the next. God will guide us from day to day, and the best thing that we can do is accept each sucky and precious day for what it is, being honest and speaking truth about life, asking for help and love when we need it, and giving it to others when we can.

One of my favorite author/blogger/humans, Glennon Melton, has created this mantra, one that we could all learn from.

Peace and love to you today friends.