The disheveled man stood alone. It was raining on a dark night in December. He was soaked, cold, and wondering where all his would-be friends were now. He’d spent his last wish and hoped his last hope. With his head in his hands, the highly-respected, talented businessman sobbed on the street corner for all he had lost.
He had worked his way up the ladder from an early age. The son of a trucker, he’d learned well how much blood and sweat it would take to win the world through hard work. The man had built his business from nothing more than a few thousand dollars and his own iron will. He had succeeded in all he had set out to do; to prove; to gain; to get.
But he felt alone . His family life was very tumultuous. His parents were no more and his colleagues were mere acquaintances. The man was looking for purpose while married to work. He stood sobbing now seeing what he had never seen before.
He saw a family that could be saved if he could just figure out how. He saw unwavering standards that severed most of his relationships and kept the rest from closeness. He saw his own self-absorbed past alongside the sadness of what it’s sowing had reaped. He finally saw himself.
So the man stood sobbing rain-soaked on the street in solitude. He’d spent his last wish and hoped his last hope. With his head in his hands, the highly-respected, talented businessman sobbed on the street corner for all he had lost.
He considered suicide. He saw no way home. He didn’t even have a home. He had a big house with big accomplishments, but he had never stopped long enough to invest in the things that would have offered true security.
Just as he upholstered his gun, a small shimmer of light reflected off the metal and shined onto his face. He looked up in hopeless despair and saw that the light had come from a church across the street. “All are welcome,” read the sign, “Come and be a part of our family.”
He thought for a moment about whether the sign could be true. He considered whether a God could really love him; whether strangers could really help him. He said a small prayer as was his habit. He asked God for a second chance. He pleaded for help.
The man walked across the street and sat down inside the church. People were beginning to file in for a Christmas play. He was greeted warmly and given a coffee. Everyone seemed to want to know who he was and where he came from.
…
That same night, an orphan girl found herself visiting the church. Her thoughts much the same as the man’s. No one to love her; no place to call home; no hope for the future; not sure if her insignificant life even mattered at all.
Both of them sat watching. They heard a message of love and truth. But when the curtain closed, no one extended any real invitation. They all had their own homes and their own friends to frequent. It was Christmas, after all.
Both of them came back to the church for several months faithfully. Both of them thought this might just be the hope of God. The sign advertised being part of a family; God’s family. That was the only thing these two souls really wanted.
As they both tried their best to offer their service and friendship in tangible, genuine ways, the people inside closed in tighter to one another. The initially “friendly” members seemed un-trusting and avoid-ant, even. Every time either of the two prodigals tried to get close to someone, they were put off and subtly rejected. They felt the favoritism all around them as they were treated as outsiders in a place full of insiders.
Eventually the girl was told that she looked too different than they. They said she spoke too often and with too much knowledge to men were far too holy to associate with attractive, young women. She was dismissed from the service and instructed to seek God elsewhere. They said, “Prodigal girls are not welcome here. Our Father does not love the likes of women like you. Leave our house. We don’t want you here.”
Likewise, the man was approached by the deacons and faulted for donating far too many dollars. They had determined that the generous giving received from the man was not genuine, rather, duplicitous. They dismissed him from their services and asked him to take his manipulative offerings elsewhere saying, “Prodigal guys are not welcome here. Our Father does not love the likes of men like you. Leave our house. We don’t want you here.”
“But the house is not yours!
It belongs to My Father!
How can you mistreat we vineyard workers
with such crimes of white collar?”
The two prodigals exclaimed.
But, “Silence!” was all
the sneaky false stewards
said back in reply.
The truth was that the people
advertising all kinds of inclusion
were extremely jealous and sour
over their kind Gentile siblings.
They were prideful, judgmental,
and exceedingly sore.
They were the older brothers of Joseph;
they were Cain’s connoisseur.
They saw not the broken which
God himself had sent in, rather,
they served their own insecurities
by telling tall-tales of them.
Those in need were the ones
whom they did not prefer;
whom they chose not to select;
whom they didn’t want to serve.
They turned out the needy.
They lied about them.
They decided for themselves
who was out; who was in.
False family? No matter!
False family, “Voila!”
They did just what they wanted.
They did all that was wrong.
Just as Joseph’s brothers left him for dead;
Just as they sold him away,
these jealous brothers and sisters cared nothing for these siblings or where they would stay.
Just as Potiphar’s wife;
just as the prodigal’s brother,
they lied for desire
because their hands were so dirty
and so terribly doubtless
no more than hired.
These hired hands used their position
in the Master’s house to imprison
the innocent needing healing
through their own falseness and doubt.
These are the ways of the corrupt religious. These are the deeds of those who see not that judgment for themselves is nigh.
Nigh it is, indeed. And when the church starts to empty and the truth starts to tell, judgment will rain on the unjust justifiers of position, pride, and selfish gain.
These are the words of the orphan girl:
Judgment will come,
and surely so soon.
For God does not honor
those that give not the honor
to his house which is due.
Remember,
Our Father desperately loves
his prodigal sons and
his prodigal daughters.
When you abuse and mistreat
their very homecoming,
be careful that the mercy
you love to withhold
is not altogether spared
and kept completely from you.
Everyday Encounters With the Creator 