My parents gave me my first Bible on my eleventh birthday in 1961 with an inscription in my mother’s hand: “To our son with the hope that this book will serve as your guide all the days of your life. Our love and prayers will always be with you. Mother and Daddy.” It was the standard King James Version. “If the KJV was good enough for the Apostle Paul, it is good enough for us,” was the tongue-in-cheek argument among the faithful as to the only acceptable translation back then. It sits on my desk; dog-eared, held together with a rubber band and brittle masking tape, with the pages inside marked and worn.
Now do not be deceived. As sweet as this sentiment might be, I tested the inscribed words. My parents love was tried and their prayers were many when I took a prodigal turn and remained “in the wilderness” for what, I’m sure, seemed like ages. At one point Mother said she stopped praying for me to make good choices and have good friends. Instead, she prayed for the Lord to just keep me alive. I am very grateful to my parents’ faithfulness, and like the prodigal son, when I “came to my senses,” a discovery of an active, loving relationship with God and an intense thirst for Scripture came with it. A devotion to tell or retell stories from the Bible would soon follow.
The traditional “Prodigal Son” story casts the younger son as the wayward one. By demanding the father give him his portion of the inheritance, he was saying, in essence, he wished his father dead. He then went out to squander his money and his father’s love.
The older son remained home to work in the family business. This son thought himself highly favored. When his repentant younger sibling returned home begging forgiveness, the older brother felt justified in his anger that their father welcomed home a rebellious son and threw him a party to boot. He was indignant believing he had earned his father’s love and deserved it, thus exposing his self-righteousness.
What is so astonishing is the father’s reaction to both his sons regardless of how they treated him. The father was quick to initiate his love toward both, to the son who wished him dead and the son embittered by a perceived neglect. I have been both sons in my time. To be truthful, I still can be. But I can attest to the truth that when I came running home, my earthly father and mother, and my heavenly father, initiated their love toward me when I did not deserve it. I am a man most grateful.
