Celebrate the prodigal too quickly

I thought some more about the prodigal today.  I have read and heard that story on countless occasions.  As a child who longs for grace, unconditional Agape love, I cheer, with all Christians, for the prodigal and his father.  We never grow tired of hearing this parable, and we cheer with delight in our hearts at the sight of the fathers unconditional embrace and the prodigal's humility.  We imagine the prodigal's poverty and leap for joy at the prodigal's humble return.  We see the prodigal lag his way home and watch the Father run to his battered and poor son.  We go on the Father's joyful demand to get IPA and T-bone steaks with excellent joy for the prodigal's return.  We read with great joy.  We cheer for the prodigal.

We live like the older brother.  When the story is read and enjoyed, I walk past drunken homeless people on the streets.  After the thrilling STORY is over, I get pissed off at the people around me.  I weep for joy at the prodigal's return home to loving arms, and then I write a scathing status update to someone.  I get all caught up in the greatest PLOT of grace and unconditional love ever uttered or written, and I have the hardest time accepting continued mistakes and life patterns in my own family members.

I work hard to be the best Christian I can be for crying out loud, and here are all these people around me who aren't even trying. Here are all those people who do not understand that I am a Christian who wants to be all I can be, and they just go on like it doesn't make a difference.  I believe in a God of unconditional love and grace and I loath the congregations who don't get it right.  I am the prodigal here...not them!

Right?

It is not just a parable.  It is not just a fictional thriller to read and put back on the shelf until the next time.  It is a story that serves as a humbling reflection of the reality we live every day.  Like every parable, it is easy to associate myself with the good guy, the hero, but I can ALWAYS equally associate myself with the villian.

My heart breaks when I realize I cheer for the prodigal and live like the older brother.

A Hypocrites Precursor

What you read on these pages will not always reflect perfectly my life's actions.  Thus the struggle of living out the way we wish we could.  Thus the fight to do what we want to do instead of doing what we do not want to do, and what we do not want to do...this we do.

I am a writer.  This means I love to write.  This means I express well through written (typed) word.  But I am also a daily-broken human being with imperfect feelings, hurts, pains, angers and frustrations.  I resound the words of Phillip Yancey, "I soon discover that I write about spiritual disciplines far better than I practice them."  The concepts I write about, valid as they may be, are nevertheless hard to live.  Does this mean I do not WANT to live them?  Of course not, but I suck at it.  The reason righteousness is so hard is simply because I suck at it.

This challenges my comment toward pastors, teachers and Christians, "Practice what you preach."  Who am I to say they are not trying to practice what they preach, but like me, remain children of an Abba who understands they are humans who cannot wish themselves into perfect and righteous action.  They who struggle to do what they wish they would, but it does not and should not take away from their exhausting desire to fight for righteousness and holiness and unconditional love received and given.

Love the church

I love the Church but most congregations aren't all they're cracked up to be.  But hey, I guess I'll never find that perfect church.  It seems that every church I go to...I'm there.   Bunch of sinners!  Hmph!  It seems every time I go to church, I'm just another one of the sinners..... Wait!  Thats fantastic!  I really do love the church.  I really do love most congregations...bunch of sinners!  GREAT!