Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Saturday, September 24, 2022

How Things Can Change

 The younger son in Jesus’ “Prodigal Son” parable was an anonymous character, whose actions, words and thoughts revealed a great deal about him. This was also very true about the father and the older son who were cast in the Master’s story. We may not know their names, but their actions and words tell us a lot.


Let’s give them some names, though. I’m calling the father “Richard” because the name has a kingly connotation and this man was in fact a man of wealth and property. The older son I will call “Obie” which is short for Obadiah. He was big on obedience, after all, and the Hebrew meaning of Obadiah could be rendered “slave of Yahweh.”


What do we call the younger son? I think an appropriate name would be “Jack” because it makes you think of impetuous, quick, impatient things like jackrabbits or jackhammers or Jack-in-the-boxes that suddenly spring to life and can quickly change direction. 


Throughout Christ’s parable, we can trace the changes that come over these three characters, at least, the changes in how their different qualities are made manifest by the events that take place. The demand that Jack makes of his dad, Richard’s surprisingly lenient response, Jack’s departure and reckless period of pleasure-seeking, the severe famine that strikes, Jack’s destitution and his resolution to return home, Richard’s even more surprising welcome of Jack, and then there is Obie’s refusal to join in the joyful celebration marking his brother’s return.


Jack is a changed person, indeed, from the time he leaves to the day Richard throws him his welcome-home feast. The ways he experienced those changes, both physical ways and psychological ways, can be traced in his words, thoughts and actions. Originally, at the time Jack made his outlandish demand for his inheritance, his outlook and attitude might be interpreted as follows:


“Life here at Richard’s place is pure boredom. I’m dying to be on my own. I’ll never measure up to Obie – to Mr. Perfect who never makes a mistake. I’m always in his shadow. And dad is still so healthy; it will be years and years yet before I’ll inherit and have the freedom to do my own thing. I feel like a prisoner here. If I just tell Richard how things are, hopefully he’ll be reasonable, give me my money, and be happy to get rid of me. Then I’ll be free to go somewhere I’ll be appreciated.”


There are quite a few areas in the previous description that were destined for change. And perhaps Richard wasn’t as blind to those necessities of change as might have appeared on the day he signed over one third of his wealth to his younger son. He might have signed the check with tears in his eyes, or simply trusting that Providence would teach Jack the life lessons he needed, lessons Richard had been unable to teach up to that point. But, from how things eventually DID change, we see some clear reflections of our Savior’s love in the way Richard reacted to Jack’s demand, and the way He acted at Jack's return.


Jack cashed Richard’s check, and before you knew it, was gone. He was out of the box, so to speak. He dashed, quick as a bunny, to Pleasure Town, U.S.A. And there, he threw himself the party he’d always dreamed of. An unending jubilee to celebrate his independence from the realm of King Richard. He surrounded himself with happy, exciting people who, like him, were drunk with pleasure. No annoying “Obie” types around to spoil the fun.


But inevitably, Jack ran out of jack. The money was depleted. The party was over. Food was scarce even when he could afford to buy some. None of his friends would help him and most of them were begging as well. Jack came face to face with himself for the first time. He found himself alone. Scraping for a living in a pigsty. His clothes had holes in them and his innards were grinding with hunger. Fate hadn’t been kind. Lady Luck was on a vacation. Life just wasn’t fair. He HAD to find SOMETHING to eat!


But there was no one around who could help him. No food pantries, no aid societies, no homeless shelters, no government welfare. He was far from home…


HOME. All of a sudden, it occurred to Jack that home was his only hope. But he could never return there. Leastways, not as a SON.


The hard facts of life had done a number on Jack’s mindset. At the beginning, all he wanted from Richard was money and freedom. “Just give me what’s mine, and let me go!” was his attitude and his desire. But now, all he knew he could expect from Richard was resentment and judgment. The money was all spent. The freedom was wasted and discarded. Now there was only emptiness, hunger, need. What he wanted now was mercy. Mercy and life. He had blown it. All he amounted to now was a pitiful charity case.


This is how drastically things can change.


“Father, I have sinned against Heaven and in your sight. I am not worthy anymore to be your son. Make me like one of your hired servants. Just let me work for some food. Whatever you can spare, I’ll be thankful. I’ll never ask you for another thing!” Jack’s plea ran through his imagination constantly as he hitched and walked his way back from Pleasure Town – where life had drained him of his pride and arrogance. The disappointment on Richard’s face was there in his mind, haunting his dreams. His past failures and the shameful way he’d left his home must have gnawed at his soul.


Jack’s life was full of surprises. He was likely surprised that Richard had agreed so readily to give him his inheritance. He was surprised how easy the good life was when you could spend money freely. Then, he was surprised how quickly life turned against you when the funds ran low. Surprised at how low you could get when you were lost and alone with no one who knew or cared.


But the new, humble Jack was in for his greatest surprise of all. His begging speech was only just beginning when he found himself in a place he had never hoped to be.


Back in his father’s arms!


Finally, Jack was coming to know what REAL life was all about. I suppose he’d always known that Richard was a loving person – maybe even a “pushover” who would be generous with a demanding son. But life had taught Jack that you couldn’t always count on people’s generosity to get you by. Now, however, in the embrace of his weeping, joyful father, he found out what love truly is.


Love doesn’t expect you always to “toe the line” like Obie did, and obey out of pure obligation and the threat of punishment. Love doesn’t even INSIST that you love in return if you aren’t ready or willing. Love gives. And gives. And keeps on giving. And when love loses someone, it is willing to wait for the lost to return.


Then, when the lost one comes home, humble, broken, dirty and sore-footed, love calls for the feast to begin!


Richard’s household had never experienced a blowout like the one that welcomed Jack back home. And the only one who could threaten the happy father’s joy… was Obie. The firstborn of the house. The heir of the “lion’s share” of wealth. The one who still dreamed of freedom when Richard breathed his last, but was willing to wait things out.


Life had taken its toll on Obie as well. Life had taught him that it was cold, demanding and inflexible. You had to stay in your place, stake out your territory, learn and follow the rules, be the best, excel, meet everyone’s expectations, take no chances. You reap what you sow. End of story. 


Life had taught Obie nothing, or at least very little, about Richard’s love. Richard’s heart. Richard’s hope for lost Jack. Obie’s only hope for Jack was that he would learn the lesson that sin brought inevitable and unremitting punishment. That Jack would get what he deserved!


Both sons began basically in the same place in relation to their dad. Both Jack and Obie saw Richard as a source of wealth and freedom. Things that would be theirs someday. Neither of them really loved their father. Jack finally learned what love truly is.


I wonder if Obie ever learned that lesson. Or have I?



Sunday, May 15, 2016

Timetables

“Life is just a game...at the end, the one with the most toys is the winner!”

Such homespun philosophies become the stuff of clever bumper stickers, but I don’t seriously believe that most people think in such fatalistic terms. Deep down in even the most calloused human heart, there is much more of a hunger for significance and a confidence that life and death are so much more than a game--some kind of cosmic joke.

But, to be sure, there are episodes in every life--many of them prolonged and agonizing--that make it appear confusing, tragic and disillusioning. The Bible certainly reflects this. Read the Old Testament books of Job and Ecclesiastes if you doubt that!

For millenia, all men, including all men of God, have wrestled with the troubling questions involving life and death:

- Why do the righteous often suffer while the wicked prosper and outlive them?
- What is the purpose behind the deaths of infants and the promising young people who are taken?
- If God is all-powerful, why doesn’t He deal with the wicked before they unleash their evil?
- Is it really necessary for natural disasters to occur throughout our fallen world?

In a way, it’s understandable that avowed atheists throw such challenges in Christians’ faces, because, in all honesty, we believers also struggle with those kinds of conundrums. We believe in a God of mercy and love, yet we behold tragedy again and again, bred in the cauldron of this sin-sick world. And we can’t help but wonder from time to time, “Where is God in all of that?”

Simon Peter, former fisherman, Jesus’ right-hand man, fierce, fiery preacher of the early book of Acts--Peter sat in a dark, dank prison cell, chained between two soldiers, scheduled to be beheaded the following day. King Herod had very recently executed James, another of Jesus’ close friends, to the great delight of the enemies of Christ. Now, it was Peter’s turn to be martyred. Or so Herod thought.

But Acts 12 goes on to tell of Peter’s miraculous release from that prison. You see, in God’s timetable, Peter had a lot more ministry ahead of him. Actually, as we read at the end of that chapter, it was almost time for Herod to become worm-food, rather than the Apostle he had thrown in prison.

James’s death...Peter’s rescue...both for the glory of God.

James and Peter were both strong pillars of Christ’s early church. Persecution had driven most of the believers away from the church’s birthplace: Jerusalem. Where Jesus died and was buried and rose again--where the Holy Spirit had descended and thousands had heard the Messiah’s message in their own miraculously given languages. James and Peter both remained where the opposition was hottest. They knew the dangers, the murderous threats. Yet they stayed to teach and encourage the Jerusalem believers.

Herod beheaded James...and because that pleased the Jews, he planned to do the same to Peter. Now the enemies of Christ’s church had the civil government on their side, with the combined might of the Roman empire behind it and them.

James was dead...Peter was next in line...the little church gathered to pray the night before the execution. The little prayer meeting lengthened far into the night...

Then, there came a knock at the door. Keep on praying, brothers and sisters, Rhoda will run and see who it is at this late hour.

Rhoda...who was it?...Who?? Peter??? Rhoda, you’re out of your mind!

But it was Peter. The believers were “astonished.” But God’s timetable always runs “on time.” It was time for James to graduate to glory. Perhaps that was the sacrifice necessary to encourage the church to pray earnestly for Peter’s release? It was time for Peter to be rescued for future ministry. Perhaps to reward the church for its earnest prayer and convince them of its power to move the arm of the Almighty!

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.”

We can look at the world of life, death, delight and tragedy in two very different ways: Some, like Herod, look at events as only things that he has the power to manipulate and react to with his own limited wisdom. Others, like the tiny Jerusalem church, see events as under the sovereign control of an all-wise, all-powerful God who decrees from all eternity that those events will serve His own glory and His people’s best good.

When those events trouble and provoke us to doubt, isn’t it only because we are failing to take our wise Father’s timetable into account? Eternity is in our hearts. Let’s keep remembering that everything is--or will be--beautiful in its own time.

Because God has made it that way.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Maytime Musings

It arrives...the merrie month of May. We find ourselves surrounded by sweet springtime and the greenery for which our frozen souls have been longing.

Even the most stay-at-home layabouts appear on the trails and the lawns and the verdant avenues where newly pupated insects begin to buzz. Buds adorn more than beer cans and leaves of bound paper give way to those burgeoning on branches of beeches, briers and bushes.

Life emerges from stasis to rub crusty eyes and once more reveal its Author’s genius. A drive through the countryside harbors no fear of impassible lanes or invisible ice, and friendly regiments of Sta-puft clouds stand at attention on a vermilion parade ground as their brilliant, blazing commander lazily swaggers by.

Threats of April’s forgetful frosts at last lie buried. Bulbs are in the showered ground, seedlings rescued from their hothouse dungeons. Hats on passersby provide decoration rather than defense from the elements.

And I...I want to move about in May. I want to breathe in the pollens and the mown grass and the cookout coal-smoke from neighbors' fires two blocks away. I want to get to know the unleashed animals who go about marking their turf, and the elderly gent on the corner who lost his missus last year. I want to taste snow-cones and hotdogs in their natural habitats again and forget that all this lovely life was ever swallowed by winter.

At long last the atmosphere feels perfect for a night at the drive-in and there’s a new blockbuster being cast on an open-air screen. Outside beckons with its wandering, wayward, wistful, wicked wiles. Possibilities scattered like Hansel’s crumbs, leading my senses out of a dark, lonely wood.

Children used to dance around a pole with streamers. Nowadays they hop about a hoop on the playground with a big orange ball. Or shuck off their spring jackets to hang on bars like monkeys. Pretty soon trucks full of treats will come around chiming their annoying jingles.

I imagine youngsters still get antsy in May...school days seem so much longer when sunshine smiles through the windows and the growl of lawnmowers leaks into their classrooms. I used to wander into daydreams of Roseland amusement park’s opening scant weeks away, and the reward of free rides earned by respectable report card grades. They called it the “Sunshine Special.”

But now that I’m knocking on seniority’s door and Roseland has been paved over by time, I ride the carousel of colors, odors, flavors and cadences created anew every sudden spring...

...by the arrival of merrie May.




Sunday, May 17, 2015

The Good of Goodness

What makes it good to be good?
Whence does morality come?
Who says life must at all costs be preserved
Even though this one counts less than some?
What makes it bad to be bad?
Why not just serve “number one”?
When did self-centeredness score such a loss
And self-sacrifice hit a home-run?

What makes it good to be kind?
Nature devours all the weak!
Mercy and peace are unknown in the wild:
Only sharpness of tooth, claw and beak.
Power and swiftness are prime.
Prowess and ruthlessness reign.
How did we humans escape jungle law,
Far more “civilized” rules to sustain?

What makes a virtue so fair?
Even when vice offers thrills...
Even when I welcome temptation’s lure,
It’s tough virtue deep pleasure instills.
Why do such heroes inspire
When “giving in” would cost less?
What makes self-serving excuses seem vain
Every time good is put to the test?

Is good a matter of choice?
Did we all simply “count heads”?
Was it a sociological poll
Or a weaving of DNA threads?
Is good a meaningless mist?
Is moral outrage a joke?
Are peace and genocide equally just--
No more crucial than “Pepsi or Coke?”

Is good a practical truth?
Simply the best way to thrive?
Is then “pragmatic” the highest of heights?
Then, why should the weak be kept alive?
Or why make beautiful things?
Why waste our time on such frills?
Such window dressing serves no basic need--
Only practical stuff “pays the bills”!

The good of goodness is God.
His is the law in our hearts.
Yes we might doubt or deny it is so,
But the whole beats the sum of its parts.
For God’s own image was breathed
Into His first Garden pair...
And though that likeness is fallen and scarred,
That law’s echo and voice are still there.


MNA  5.17.15