The Tale of The Prodigal Son

A tale is told of a young man who grew up in a well-to-do family. A young man hungry for excitement and bright lights. You don't get a lot of those living in a ranch. So he grew impatient with the mundane life he felt was beneath him. He went up to his dad, demanded his share of the inheritance, packed up and left.

Where else would he go? Why, Vegas of course! A fat bank account. A life of indulgence awaited. Parties night and day. Enough lights to light up the Arctic circle like a carnival on the darkest of winter nights. Who could resist?

As you can probably imagine, he had the time of his life. Girls, gambling, cars, suites, booze. Life just went from pleasure to pleasure. No responsibilities. Total freedom. He was surrounded with friends. Life in the fast lane. Fame and fortune.

Money, unlike fruits, don't grow on trees, and it certainly didnt' grow on trees back then either. Money, like any other liquid items, eventually run low. Our prince eventually had to *gasp* find a job. But no one would hire him. There was no way he could pass for a Vegas showgirl after all, and he wasn't really big enough to be a bouncer. His friends couldn't or wouldn't help him. They just simply melted away the minute they smelt trouble.

Finally he got a job taking care of the show horses. He suffered mistreatment from a cruel, greedy employer. And it didn't pay much, obviously, certainly not enough for any of the fine dining he was so used to. Not even enough for a regular cheeseburger and coke from McDs. He spent hours upon hours with smelly, sweaty horses. It's certainly no fun cleaning up after horses, no matter how beautiful they are.

It was hot and hungry work. It finally came to a point where he was driven to eat from the same trough the forses ate from. Did he think, "Hmm, a dash of salt is all it needs to make this a fabulous dish"? Certainly not! It brought back memories of his father's house, where even the lowest servant had better fare then this.

"But how can I go back?" he wonders. After snubbing his father and family and walking out the way he did.

In time his need overcame his shame. He left without looking back and began the journey home. As he approaches home he sees his father standing outside. He hanhs his head in shame, not daring to even look at his father. He's already planned to beg his father for mercy and ask to be accepted as a servant. He's prepared for the worst.

He hears running footsteps.

He gets hit by what feels like an oncoming train. Then he realises it's his father. And his father is hugging him. "My son, my son," he says, "You've come home!". He opens his mouth, his carefully rehearsed speech on the tip of his tongue. He starts to say he's sorry, but his father would not hear a single word of it. He calls his servants and asks them to bring out the finest robe in the house. He drapes that around his son. He pulls off the ring on his finger and puts it on his son's hand. The father orders a feast to be prepared and declares a day of celebration, for his son has come home.

Does that sound unrealistic? Would you do the same if your son did the same thing? I know someone who would - God.

That's our story really. We've been seduced away. An entire generation, an entire world drawn away from their Creator by the temporary pleasures of our Vegas'es.

But here's the truth. Like that father in the story, He awaits us. Standing each day on the doorstep scanning the horizon for our return. And He waits because He is a gentleman, Because it is a choice we make whether to come home or not.

Sooner or later, we all realise that life isn't the bed of roses we wish it would be. Challenges come our way. Financial problems, relationship problems, career problems, you name it. But do we know that there is better fare in our Father's house? Oh no, He doesn't take away our problems. He carries us through them.

Who is this Father? Is the father in the story a fool? No, he just loves. And likewise with God. He loves us. This God who created the stars in the sky and knows them by name (Psalm 147:4). This Father who knows the number of hair upon all our heads (Matthew 10:30). He who preserves our coming in and going out (Psalm 121:8).

He knows us, better than anyone. Better than we know ourselves. Do we know Him?