I find joy in the way shown by your written instructions more than I find joy in all kinds of riches. [Psalm 119:14 (GW)]
It’s March Madness time for basketball fans and my team is already out of the competition. Last year, however, my choice won—but not in basketball. After placing sixteen popular Bible stories in brackets, my preferred Bible resource site had its followers tweet votes for their favorite story to see which one moved forward. The choices were: Esther and the king, Jesus walking on water, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, Joseph and his coat, Jonah and the fish, Noah and the ark, the exodus from Egypt, David and Goliath, Ezekiel and the dry bones, Jericho’s walls, Balaam’s donkey, Daniel and the lion’s den, Jesus healing the blind, Rahab and the spies, and the burning bush. Which would you expect to be the final winner?
Ezekiel and the dry bones didn’t make it past the first round (which I understand since that one sort of creeps me out). Unfortunately, the lovely story of Esther, up against the more familiar parable of the Prodigal Son, was defeated in the first round. In the final round, on one side was the historical account of the young David defeating the giant Goliath. The story is exciting, has danger and violence, and illustrates the supernatural power of God. It’s a tale of a brave young man who demonstrates the power of God with just a sling and a few stones. It tells us that, when we step out in faith, the God we serve can defeat any of the giants in our lives. Everyone loves a story where faith in God beats brute strength and the little guy defeats the big one.
David’s underdog opponent was the parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s a moving story with a not totally happy ending. After the younger son insults his father and foolishly demands his inheritance, he squanders it all. In desperate circumstances, he returns home with his head hanging low and is welcomed by his father. The dark side to the story is that the older son, the one who faithfully remained at his father’s side, is indignant and can’t understand his father’s compassion and forgiveness.
At first glance, David’s defeat of the formidable Philistine would appear to be the favorite. Nevertheless, the undefeatable youth was trounced by the Prodigal Son. When we first meet David, even though he’s young, he seems larger than life. He’s handsome, a skilled musician, and described as having good judgment and being a brave warrior. Among all of Jesse’s sons, he is the one chosen by God to become king. Most of us don’t resemble David nor have we been anointed as a king. We’re not heroic future monarchs, but we are God’s troubled children. As much as we appreciate a story of good triumphing over evil, we can personally relate to Jesus’ parable because we all are God’s prodigal sons.
The parable is a story of hope (the father is waiting at the gate for his son), mercy (the boy is not punished), love (he is hugged and greeted with a kiss), forgiveness (he is welcomed as a son, not a slave) and joy (there’s to be a huge celebration). Like the son, we all disappointed our parents and, if we were blessed with children, they disappointed us at times. Moreover, just as the son misused his father’s money, we have misused the gift of free will and squandered the blessings given us by our heavenly Father. This story reassures us that no matter how immoral, unscrupulous, self-indulgent or corrupt we’ve been, God welcomes his children home when they come with humble and repentant hearts. Once dead because of sin, we can come alive again. Knowing what sinners we are, this demonstration of the Father’s love and forgiveness is reassuring. The parable reminds us that blessings aren’t earned and obedience is not what gives us eternal life. God’s grace is not something we deserve but something He freely gives. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for loving and forgiving your undeserving prodigal children.
For the last several years, we’ve frequently driven by a house we called the “House of Lost Dreams.” Apparently forsaken by both bank and borrower, we watched as tarps blew off windows, roof tiles grew black with mold, and ivy and kudzu grew on the walls. Eventually, plants nearly obscured the deteriorating house from view as Mother Nature took back ownership of the land.
While in my early thirties, in an attempt to straighten my teeth and correct an overbite, I wore braces for four years—and even had to wear the dreaded head-gear at night! For some reason, as the years dragged on, I seemed to think that everything I didn’t like about myself and my body would be miraculously corrected once the braces were removed. I imagined that, with straight teeth, I could possibly bear some resemblance to Cheryl Tiegs, a super-model of the era. Needless to say, I was disappointed when the braces were finally removed and I still looked just like me—only with nicer teeth. Not that looking like me was so bad, but I certainly wasn’t going to be asked to appear on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue! The fact that I didn’t want to do so made no difference; I just wanted everything I didn’t like about myself to miraculously change. It took some much needed maturing, both spiritually and emotionally, to understand that my discontent had nothing to do with my appearance and that real change doesn’t come from the outside; it comes from within.
I have a young friend who’s quite a sports fan. Not only can he spout statistics for his favorite baseball and football players, he can recite the biographies of the top American Ninja Warriors as well. He knows about several athletes and yet none of them know anything about him or would recognize him on the street. I don’t know which team he favored for last Sunday’s Super Bowl but I’m sure he knew who led in kicking and punting or kick and punt returns. Enthusiastic fans do more than know the stats—they often wear team jerseys and may even paint their faces. The prevalence of blue and red shirts on Sunday made it clear the fans at our church favored the Patriots. Considering all the whooping, hollering, high fives and fist bumps that occurred later that day while watching the Super Bowl, you’d think the fans were the ones scoring the points. Using the pronoun “we” for their favored team, they moaned about calls, trash talked the opposition and analyzed plays as if they were on the field. Although fans can dress like their favorite team member, know the stats for the players, and watch every game, they’re not on a first name basis with any of the team. Neither friends nor acquaintances, they’re just fans.
