One of my last blog posts was a retelling of Jesus’ story that is traditionally referred to as the Prodigal Son. Its a beautiful and at times offensive story about radical love (radical love is almost always offensive to those who are living out of intense anger, greed, or pride isn’t it?). I’ve told and retold Jesus’ story over the years and have always owned it as my own story–a story that speaks into my own life. In fact, when I read the short story that comprised my previous blog post I concluded it by talking about how her story is our story, how her story is my story. But I’m not so sure that’s true! I’m questioning this reality, is her story really my story? Am I really the prodigal son who flipped his father off, ran away from home, experienced the world, lost everything, and came back groveling only to discover radical love and acceptance?

In that story there are two sons. There’s the younger son (whose story I retold as the wandering daughter) and there’s the older son. The older son didn’t leave home, he stayed faithful to his dad, he worked the land, was responsible, and in the end was pissed that justice was not served to his younger brother as he thought it should. The younger son’s story is better, it makes a better movie, it tugs at our heart and captures our emotions in ways that the boring older son never will. But the older brother feels much more familiar to me! Both brothers create a backdrop for an experience of intense love–both brothers are a framework for showing the fathers graciousness. But only one brother accepted the love of the father. The older brother missed out on the radical love of his dad because he was too busy working, he was too busy getting things right.

Which brother’s story do I need to own? Which brother’s story do most Christians need to own? It’s the older brother right?! Christians spend a lot of time trying to get things right, most of us have spent our whole lives trying to do the right thing…to what end? I always joke that when there’s a neighbor on my street who’s always gone and who’s not present at any neighborhood events he must be a pastor. Like the older brother we Christians can find ourselves too busy mowing the churches grass, at committee meetings deciding which curriculum to use for children’s class, and sitting in pews listening to pontificators to be with people outside our church building walls. We miss the party because we’re too busy working.

Let me add another wrench in the mix. The father split his land between his kids which means that when the younger son returned he was actually returning to his older brothers inheritance. Not only did the younger brother screw everything up but he was also now imposing on the older brothers inheritance. How dare he! Similarly, however, we also spend lots of time trying to make others do the right thing. We have bought into the lie that responsibility produces life, love, and satisfying relationship. It doesn’t. I spent many years trying to have the right doctrine and trying to be perfect; but in the end I realized that there was a party happening and I was missing out on it! There was a party happening with lots of people whose lives were messy (prodigal-like) and they were experiencing radical and intense love in ways that I had never imagined because I was too busy trying to please my Father that I never paused to feast with him. We Christians* need to learn from the younger son’s story but we need to own the older brother’s. We’ve got to stop being indignant when people fall madly in love with Jesus and yet don’t live the way we think they should. We’ve got to stop being self-righteous and realize that while we may say it with our lips our actions still show that we think we’ll find hope through being really ridiculously good. And we’ve got to loosen up and be willing to party a little bit more…I mean, don’t forget that Jesus’ coming out was over an amazing bottle of wine and a party filled with drunk people.

*  When I refer to “we Christians” I’m specifically referring to those of us who have grown up in the church. My hope is that our churches will cease to be filled only with those who grew up doing the song and dance and will instead be filled with those who haven’t spent their whole lives living in the mirage of responsibility. My hope is that churches will be overrun one day with those whose imaginations are wide, whose experiences are broad, and whose love of Jesus is authentically fresh.