The Prodigal's Brother...well...Sister
I never liked the story of the Prodigal Son. It never made much sense to me. It went against everything I had ever been taught. It just wasn't fair.
The prodigal son gets cocky, decides to move out, and lives his life in sin. He does everything he knows he's not suppose to do. However, when the Prodigal comes back home, the dad throws a big party and celebrates the return of the son.
Now all the while this fuss is being made over the bad boy coming home, the good son gets left out. There is no big celebration for the good one. He gets no recognition for doing what he is suppose to do. Basically, he's good, but yet gets the shaft.
That story isn't fair. If we do bad things, we are to be punished. If we do good things, we should be rewarded right? But in this story, the bad guy gets the party while the good guy has to help clean up afterwards. It never made sense to me.
I'm the Prodigal's brother, or well, sister. I'm the good girl that has always done what was expected. Despite my few moments on the cold, dark road, I've served God to the best of my abilities. I've stayed out of trouble, avoided as much sin as possible, and gave of myself physically as much as possible. Yet time after time, I've seen others get what I wanted. I've watched others be rewarded spiritually and physically while I got nothing.
It's left me pretty disheartened at times. And most of the time I just felt I wasn't doing enough. Somewhere I missed something, and I needed to do even more. Then when I got tired, I felt guilty for wanting to slack up on all my duties. I was the prodigal's sister, sitting outside the party pouting because no one was celebrating me.
With the love and guidance of my pastor, I am discovering the problem with being the prodigal's sister. I am so busy doing everything that I've never taken time to develop a real relationship with my Father. My relationship is strictly performance base. Let me do this, and let me help with that and I will please Him. Yet I rarely sit down and say, tell me a story, teach me Your ways. And while my Father loves me and all that I do, He really just wants me to stop and sit on the porch swing and talk awhile.
But do you know the intimacy that is required in just sitting and talking instead of fixing him a glass of sweet tea and washing His dishes? Staying busy requires little interaction with others. It doesn't require revealing my deepest darkest secrets or greatest fears. And if my relationship isn't based on performance, then what is it based on? It's so hard for me to fathom God just loving me for me and not for all the good things I try to do.
But I'm going to push away the fear and put away the serving tray for a little while. The cleaning and cooking will take care of itself. For right now, I'm going to sit and fellowship with my creator, savior, father, and friend.
The prodigal son gets cocky, decides to move out, and lives his life in sin. He does everything he knows he's not suppose to do. However, when the Prodigal comes back home, the dad throws a big party and celebrates the return of the son.
Now all the while this fuss is being made over the bad boy coming home, the good son gets left out. There is no big celebration for the good one. He gets no recognition for doing what he is suppose to do. Basically, he's good, but yet gets the shaft.
That story isn't fair. If we do bad things, we are to be punished. If we do good things, we should be rewarded right? But in this story, the bad guy gets the party while the good guy has to help clean up afterwards. It never made sense to me.
I'm the Prodigal's brother, or well, sister. I'm the good girl that has always done what was expected. Despite my few moments on the cold, dark road, I've served God to the best of my abilities. I've stayed out of trouble, avoided as much sin as possible, and gave of myself physically as much as possible. Yet time after time, I've seen others get what I wanted. I've watched others be rewarded spiritually and physically while I got nothing.
It's left me pretty disheartened at times. And most of the time I just felt I wasn't doing enough. Somewhere I missed something, and I needed to do even more. Then when I got tired, I felt guilty for wanting to slack up on all my duties. I was the prodigal's sister, sitting outside the party pouting because no one was celebrating me.
With the love and guidance of my pastor, I am discovering the problem with being the prodigal's sister. I am so busy doing everything that I've never taken time to develop a real relationship with my Father. My relationship is strictly performance base. Let me do this, and let me help with that and I will please Him. Yet I rarely sit down and say, tell me a story, teach me Your ways. And while my Father loves me and all that I do, He really just wants me to stop and sit on the porch swing and talk awhile.
But do you know the intimacy that is required in just sitting and talking instead of fixing him a glass of sweet tea and washing His dishes? Staying busy requires little interaction with others. It doesn't require revealing my deepest darkest secrets or greatest fears. And if my relationship isn't based on performance, then what is it based on? It's so hard for me to fathom God just loving me for me and not for all the good things I try to do.
But I'm going to push away the fear and put away the serving tray for a little while. The cleaning and cooking will take care of itself. For right now, I'm going to sit and fellowship with my creator, savior, father, and friend.
Comments
People love the story of the prodigal son, but they forget there were two sons in the story and that older son was worthy of the father's pleading of him to come into the house. God wants us at the party, too.
Sue Thompson