Father Joe
If you've ever seen "Spinal Tap" then you know who Tony Hendra is. He was the Brit with the big face who played Tap's manager.Hendra wrote a book called "Father Joe, The Man Who Saved My Soul." In a nutshell, here's what happened: Hendra met a cloistered Benedictine monk named Father Joe when he was 14 years old. Father Joe was a part of his life from then on. Hendra went from wanting to become a monk himself to an eventual abandonment of his faith. He went to college at Cambridge and attended a skit performance by Peter Cook and Dudley Moore. At that point his ambition turned from monk to satirist. Along the way, he worked with Graham Chapman, John Cleese, and most of the original SNL stars.Father Joe never gave up on Hendra. But he never pushed him either. He never told him how wrong he was for doing some of the things he was doing...drugs, affairs, neglecting his family. No matter what, Father Joe was there for one purpose: to love Tony. There is a lot of dialogue in the book and Father Joe ends almost every sentence addressed to Hendra with the word "dear."The book's title gives away the happy ending. I'll share one passage just because you need to know more about Father Joe. I fell in love with the man. You will too if you read the book. I had known this man now for thirty-three years, more than half his career as a monk. In a few weeks it would be his sixtieth anniversary. Sixty years, that is, since his profession in 1928, at the age of nineteen, writing out his solemn vows of stability, obedience, and conversion of life on a sheet of parchment and depositing it on the altar. St. Benedict's first and shrewdest Rule: put it in writing. With the exception of the Great War, which he was too young to be aware of, he had bypassed just about everything in this terrible, grasping, murderous century. Where did he spend the Depression? In Poverty. Where did he spend World War II? At peace. Where had he spent the Cold War, with its bloody capitalist tyrants and bloody communist revolutions? Loving his enemies.
Book List
Here are some books that I read in 2005 and can heartily recommend. There are others I read that don't get the recommendation and many, many more that remain in the stack.The Bible Jesus Read -- Philip Yancey: A great study of selections from the Old Testament, what they meant to the Jews of Jesus' time, and what they mean today. Some of my favorite scripture through the eyes of one of my favorite writers.Blue Like Jazz -- Donald Miller: I already wrote a great deal about this one as I was going through it. It speaks with humor and conviction to the heart of what Jesus means right now.The Chronicles of Narnia -- C.S. Lewis: I re-read them every 5-10 years but this year went through them for obvious reasons. We saw the movie last night and it is very true to the story. The audience cheered when Aslan showed up during the battle. It made me wonder what my emotions will be when faith is fulfilled.The Emerging Church -- Dan Kimball: The easiest-to-understand description of post-modernism I have ever read. Kimball has an enormous heart for making worship meaningful to people and he is full of incredible ideas. Plus, he turned me on to Lemon Jelly.The Return of the Prodigal Son -- Henri Nouwen: Probably enough said about this already. You should know that it is a brief book though. It will give you a lot to think about without taking weeks to work through.Season of Life -- Jeffrey Marx: The story of Joe Ehrmann and his method of molding/teaching/loving the young men he coaches. My father-in-law took me to meet and listen to Marx and Ehrmann and they are the real deal. If you work with or are parenting boys and young men, it is a must-read.Speaker For the Dead -- Orson Scott Card: I threw this one in just because I enjoyed it so much. It's science fiction and written by a Mormon. Still, Ender's Game is one of the best works in this genre I've ever read, and both trilogies it initiated are very, very good. If you haven't delved into SF for awhile and need some fiction, started with Ender's Game and then pick a path.I just finished Father Joe, The Man Who Saved My Soul by Tony Hendra. It was also very good. I'll write something about it next time. I'm very much feeling the need for fiction in my next read though so I think that stack may get a little lighter. Starting Sunday, I'll begin two daily devotional reads, one by Nouwen and the other by William Barclay. Between that and my regular Bible study, my brain is craving a little escapism.
The Day After
It's December 26th or, as we fathers of 4-year-olds like to call it, "Some Assembly Required Day."I woke up 4 or 5 times during the night. A few times because of the ol' stone. Once because of the most dazzling lightning display I have ever seen. Lightning crashed again and again, seemingly right outside the sliding glass door of our bedroom. Thunder followed close behind and sleep was not only impossible but unwanted. No Pink Floyd laser light show ever rivaled what God was performing this morning. As beautiful as it was though, it cancelled sleep because of how much it reminded us of similar lights and crashes several weeks ago. We couldn't help but remember The Day of The Toyota and so sleep was not forthcoming. To make matters worse, Lisa went to check on James and he asked if the aliens were coming. Of course, we hadn't let him watch "War of the Worlds" with us the other night, but he had overheard us talking about it enough to wonder if this lightning was bringing Martians with it. Sleep? I think not.So it was that I awoke shortly before 11:00 this morning with a raging headache and Instructions for Assembly waving in my face. James had been awesome all morning, letting me sleep, playing quietly, opening the box of the Domino Laying Truck, spreading well over 100 pieces everywhere across the front room concrete. Naturally, after waiting so long, he was ready for me to put the whole thing together. Unfortunately, he had shone no discretion as to exactly where he was setting all of the pieces. And the headache took some time to quiet down.I'm happy to report, however, that as I type, he is setting up dominoes for what I'm sure will be a domino display of Guiness-like proportions.As for the Christmas service yesterday, it was truly remarkable. We had a great turnout and there was such a wonderful spirit (Spirit) in the place. I had really struggled with the sermon all week. I truly thought it was the most boring thing I had ever written. In fact, I did actually write the entire thing out (available on a Word document for just 13.95) which is unusual as I usually just outline. On Friday night, long after Lisa had gone to bed, I got it to a place where I felt it was less boring than it had been. I retired, having scored a moral victory.I continued to kvetch (can one kvetch on the way to a Christian service?) Sunday morning and it was then that Lisa reminded me that I was giving myself waaaay too much credit. I thought I was being all humble and self-deprecating in my week-long agony. The truth is, I was allowing pride to convince me that it was all my doing and I should receive any accompanying credit and/or blame. Lisa helped me remember that it is the Spirit who delivers our messages, not us at all. I was more than a little comforted and completely unsurprised when many of the words that came out of me yesterday were nowhere to be found on my printed pages. He worked His will as He always does.We had a terrific weekend. Time was spent with family on both sides. Presents were exchanged. James was great, continuing to impress us with how little he cares about receiving gifts. He was excited about Santa coming, excited about spending time with his family, and happy when he opened his presents, but he showed not a sign of greed. He has his moments, like any kid will, but we are amazed at the character of our boy.Blessings to all as we wrap up 2005.
From Me To You
Following Brady's lead, here are my gifts for all of you blog-readers out there:To Brady: That every member of the College Church should win the lottery in 2006...and save their tithes for Harvest Day.To Cecil: A smart classroom. And smart students.To Greg: Everyone else will give you guitars. I'm hiring a surgeon to graft Eric Clapton's hands onto your wrists.To Judy: A complete collection of cat cartoons, starring Felix, Tom, Garfield, and Sylvester.To Keith: A ready recollection.To Lisa: A mixture of the two greatest possible worlds...a new kitchen for home-cooked meals...combined with the complete lack of actual cooking, serving, or cleaning we've grown accustomed to the past 6 weeks.To Randy: A sermon idea for every Sunday for the rest of your life. And a book contract.To Sandra: A Pepperdine extension campus ready to open in the fall, located somewhere in North Fresno.To Jon and Donna and Sue and all the rest of you who stop by from time to time: A blog identity so that you can join in the uplifiting and often whacky discussion that has helped make 2005 such a great year for me.Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Blog Night!
Doubt
70o years before he was born, the greatest prophet who ever lived foretold his coming. The last two verses of our Old Testament concern him. The angel, Gabriel, prepared his mother and father for his arrival and gave him his name. He spent his ministry decrying the wicked and pompous, speaking of the coming Christ, never deviating from the path on which he was set by God Himself.Which is why it's so surprising to hear him utter words of doubt.Call it what you will, explain it away if you wish, but when John the Baptist is in prison and he sends his messengers to Jesus to ask that question, it is to assuage his own doubt."Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"Why doubt, if you were told by God Himself to prepare the way for the Messiah? Maybe it was John's circumstances, imprisoned by the ruler who he had denounced for having his brother's wife. He may have been in such a state of fear and despair that he had lost the assurance of his purpose. Or possibly he was confused as to Jesus' methods. Perhaps he, like all the Jews, was waiting for the King to come with force and overthrow the oppressors. It could be that he wanted his cousin fighting, not healing.Who knows? What matters is this: The greatest among us can doubt. And God understands.After Jesus heard John's question, he said, "What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear expensive clothes and indulge in luxury are in palaces. But what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: " 'I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' I tell you, among those born of women there is no one greater than John; yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he."Hardly words of disappointment or anger. God knows that we will have our moments of doubt, He expects them even. And He rewards our faith. He answers our prayers. He lifts us up.
Posting From Home
The chair isn't as comfortable and the computer isn't as nice, but the simple pleasure of not being at work covers a multitude of sins.This year has been very tough, although it's getting better. Most of my serious troublemakers have been kicked out by now and I'm getting a chance to know the ones who are still there. Guess what. Nice kids! I've also had some visits in the last couple of weeks from the ghosts of students past. How nice it's been to see Adri-Ann, Kristian, Jeku, Anna and others. These young adults are doing amazing things. Good thing too, since they're going to rule the world some day.All that to say this: while these two weeks off couldn't have come at a better time, I think I'll be ready to face the second semester on January 3. In the meantime, I still have this (...) kidney stone, there is shopping to be done, and I think I'm preaching the next three Sundays. I've never preached a Christmas sermon before and I'm really looking forward to it. We'll be looking at Christ through the eyes of John the Baptist, focusing on the blend of God and man. "Behold the lamb, the Son of God!" Great stuff and an excellent opportunity to talk about how blessed we are to have Jesus in our lives right now. We often use Christmas to talk about what happened 2000 years ago or what's going to happen when we die. But Sunday we'll talk about the present, where we would be, what our lives would be like if not for the coming of the Lamb.I hope to stay in touch with everybody over the next couple of weeks, even from this uncomfortable chair on this sub-par computer. (Hey, why do I have nicer stuff at work than at home? Hmmmm...) You are all a blessing to me and I appreciate your prayers and encouragement.P.S. Last night's musical was awesome. I love that we have such talented singers, that they work so hard, and that they all so obviously enjoy themselves when it's time for the payoff. They were incredible. I wish you all could have heard them.
Ow
I'm not blogging too much today, folks. I woke up a little before 6:00 with kidney stone pain. After a trip to school to set things up for a sub, then a trip to the doctor, then next door for x-rays, back to the doctor, back next door for blood work...then a shot in the rear that hurt almost as much as the stone....It occurs to me that this may be too much information.I digress. Then a trip to the pharmacy, then home to have breakfast so that I could take a pain pill. It is now 11:30 and I'm not doubled over for the first time today. Oh, it still hurts, don't get me wrong. But I'm able to think for a bit.I brought a bunch of tests home to grade. That lasted about 10 minutes. Now I'm going to lay down, read, do laundry...basically stay out of the way of the nice man finishing up the drywall in the kitchen. Oh yeah, 5 weeks after our kitchen was turned into a parking space, it is still basically gutted. We live on concrete among bare walls. It's now looking like we'll be back to normal in February.Okay. This hurts. Raise your hand if you've had one. This is number 20 or so for me. And no, Cecil, I'm not just starting vacation early. It's back to work for me tomorrow, one way or another.Ow.
Divine Birth
I was talking with DCB yesterday about human tendencies in our perception of Jesus. Maybe we humanize him more than we deify him. It's easier for us to understand and identify with the man than with the God. But I think that our real tendency is to mix the two, to find some easy compromise. That's why we struggle with the reality of his birth and his life on earth. He was God, so he naturally should have been good-looking, constantly working miracles, skating through life with the greatest of ease.It's not easy. I'm sure that his birth was full of noise and pain, just like any other. But he WAS God. So there is a whole other way of perceiving that moment of incarnation:A great and wondrous sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth. Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crowns on his heads. His tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the earth. The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that he might devour her child the moment it was born. She gave birth to a son, a male child, who will rule all the nations with an iron scepter. And her child was snatched up to God and to his throne. The woman fled into the desert to a place prepared for her by God, where she might be taken care of for 1,260 days. Maybe we need to satisfy ourselves with our complete inability to see things through a heavenly lens, at least until we arrive ourselves. It boggles the mind to think about God packing Himself into that tiny, helpless body. So I think that the how of it is going to remain beyond me for quite some time. Fortunately, it's not the how that matters.It's the why.
An Exercise In Reality
I've given my Sunday morning class an assignment in two parts.Part 1: Bring in Christmas cards so that the class can compare the pictures on them to the reality of the event.This serves two purposes. For one thing, it gives us a look at the white, All-American Jesus we see in most art. For another, it shows us the re-imagining of his birth that has taken place over the last 2000 years. One picture of Jesus that was brought in this past Sunday shows him looking over his shoulder at a flock of sheep, looking for all the world like a movie star/linebacker. Somebody else brought a card depicting the nativity scene. On it, the Christ child is surrounded by what can only be described as a group of Disney animals. I, for one, never knew that there were so many bunnies in Bethlehem.Part 2: Listen to the lyrics of the Christmas carols you are inundated with.Here's an example from "Away In A Manger": "The little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes." No crying? Where does it say that Jesus didn't cry? I have serious doubts about the magical storybook birth and childhood we've created in our heads for Jesus. I don't believe that he made play-dough birds and then caused them to fly away. I DO believe that he bawled like a, well, a baby when he was born. There's nothing peaceful about giving birth in a stable.Lisa claims that Part 2 of this assignment is ruining her enjoyment of the songs. Sorry, honey. I'm looking forward to other examples the class will bring in. My hope is that we learn to think about the life of Jesus on earth in a real way, rather than the flannel-board, fairy tale way we've gotten used to. He was a real man who lived a real life. When we forget that, we lose sight of the whole reason for the incarnation.Any other examples?
But It's So Obvious That I'm Right!
I was just reading a post about two churches in a disagreement about how to reach out to their community (http://dontcallmeveronica.blogspot.com/). It's sad, but it cracked me up anyway.This is why churches divide, you know. This is why people leave churches. This is why the world looks at the church, pointing, and yelling, "Just like us! See? Just like us!" No exceptions. Every time. Bad things happen because everybody is just SO sure that they are right.Love, understanding, patience, tolerance...unimportant these things are. (I can't help going all Yoda every now and then.) What is important is that you understand and acknowledge that I am right! It's the my-way-or-the-highway theology. We've been doing it for years. I'm convinced we always will to one exent or another.As Dr. Phil says, "How's that workin' for you?"The elders at the College Church are good men. But they struggle with this just like the rest of us. One of them is dead sure that we should hire a preacher. Another of them is dead sure that we shouldn't. Yet another is dead sure that we need to fix up our building before we even think of spending our money elsewhere. And the rest aren't any too sure about...well...lots of things. For the record, I respect each of these opinions. Utterly. What I do not respect is any accompanying eye-rolling, head-shaking, or vocal disapproval when others are sharing their opinions. What I do not respect is the attitude of "Why don't you just get it through your thick skull that I am RIGHT???"There are two dangerous tendencies at work here and they have equal destructive capabilities. The first is the prideful tendency to not listen to anybody else. In so doing, we ignore the voice of the Spirit. We put our will above His because we are so sure we know what that will is. The second is the faithless tendency to do nothing. To say that we're not sure of anything so we're not going to do anything. The problem here is that we are saying that we are more powerful than God, that if we do the wrong thing, everything will fall apart. We ignore God's part in things and forget that His power to keep us off the wrong road is greater than our power to walk on it.I'm willing to admit that I might be wrong. My tendency though, is to believe that I am right until proven wrong. Still, I hope that I never treat anyone in such a way as to make them think that their opinion is unimportant and could not possibly be right. And I hope that I never forget that there are only a very few things that really matter and upon which we must all agree.
The Parable of the Landowner
It is impossible for me to study the parable of the Prodigal Son without thinking of the parable found in Matthew 20 of the landowner. The questions of the elder son are the same as the questions of the laborers who had worked all day. "Why should he/they get what I'M getting? Don't I deserve MORE?"Here's what Henri Nouwen had to say:"Why didn't the landowner pay those who worked many long hours first and then surprise the latecomers with his generosity? Why, instead, does he pay the workers of the eleventh hour first, rasing false expectations in the others and creating unnecessary bitterness and jealousy? These questions, I now realize, come from a perspective that is all too willing to impose the economy of the temporal on the unique order of the divine. It hadn't previously occured to me that the landowner might have wanted the workers of the early hours to rejoice in his generosity to the latecomers. It never crossed my mind that he might have acted on the supposition that those who had worked in the vineyard the whole day would be deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to do work for their boss, and even more grateful to see what a generous man he is. It requires an interior about-face to accept such a non-comparing way of thinking. But that is God's way of thinking. God looks at His people as children of a family who are happy that those who have done only a little bit are as much loved as those who accomplish much."When we work as hard as we do in His service, especially those of us who are off the payroll, it's good to remember why we are working. We serve at His pleasure. And we should take joy in His generosity.
The Father
"Jesus wants to make it clear that the God of whom he speaks is a God of compassion who joyously welcomes repentant sinners into his house. To associate and eat with people of ill repute, therefore, does not contradict his teaching about God, but does, in fact, live out this teaching in everyday life. If God forgives the sinners, then certainly those who have faith in God should do the same. If God welcomes sinners home, then certainly those who trust in God should do likewise. If God is compassionate, then certainly those who love God should be compassionate as well. The God whom Jesus announces and in whose name he acts is the God of compassion, the God who offers himself as an example and model for all human behavior.But there is more. Becoming like the heavenly Father is not just one important aspect of Jesus' teaching, it is the very heart of the message. The radical quality of Jesus' words and the seeming impossibility of his demands are quite obvious when heard as part of a general call to become and to be true sons and daughters of God."The inevitability of Nouwen's conclusion doesn't make it any easier to swallow. As a teacher, I know the importance of setting reachable goals for my students, of giving them planned successes. Saying that I am to become the Father seems to me like giving a problem involving definite integrals to one of my Algebra freshmen.And yet, there it is. We may be the prodigal, lost and knowing the need to return home. We may be the elder son, intolerant of the welcome the younger is promised. Either way, we are to become the father: loving, compassionate, welcoming, forgiving, trustworthy, an example to all who see us. Yeah. Right. Well, he never said it was going to be easy.There are days, weeks even, when I'm comfortable with the idea of telling others to imitate me. Most of the time, though, I find the call to be Christ-like a bridge waaay too far. Fortunately, God knows this too. And He is there to stand in the gap, to make up for the righteousness we lack. It's why we "put on" Jesus in baptism...so that when God looks at us, he sees him. We wear the son like clothing while we struggle inside with the metamorphosis that changes us into something better than we can even imagine.I don't entirely know how to become like the Father. But I know that I want to and that He wants me to. And so I trust in Him and try every day to become.
A 4-year-old In Church
Warning: The following post includes frank discussion of scatological events. The words "pee", "poop" and an accidental "crap" are used unblinkingly. Proceed at your own risk.This goes out to all of you who have been there, especially to those who have forgotten.My son spent the weekend with his grandmothers...with Lisa's mom on Friday night and with mine on Saturday. So I hadn't seen him much when we met up at church on Sunday morning. I was thrilled to see him and hugged him all over. He said, "Where's Mommy?" When I told him that she wouldn't be there that morning, he cried great big tears.Things went downhill from there.I try very hard to pay close attention on Sunday mornings. Partly because it's good for me, partly because I think my attention helps the speakers, and partly because I need to know what's going on for the sake of the Worship Committee. Plus, I so appreciate it when others actually look like they're listening to me. That was tougher than usual yesterday. By the third song, James told me he had to "go potty." As you know, this is always a crapshoot with kids, and I mean that literally. Maybe he really needs to go. Probably he just wants to go walk around for a while. But I hadn't had him that morning so I didn't know if he'd gone and my mother was still out doing the greeter thing. So I took him.(While James was peeing, DCB came into the bathroom holding his hands out in front of him and not trying to hide the look of disgust on his face. "Troy just yakked all over me," he said, furiously washing his hands. Those of you who know DCB know of his Hughes-like germophobia. I cracked up.)When we got back to our pew (I sit on the inside aisle...isn't that the manly spot?), my mom had returned and was sitting on the other end. James walked to her immediately and, when I looked down that way 5 SECONDS LATER, he was walking with her down the outside aisle and back to the bathroom.What a player.When they came back, my niece explained to Mom what had just happend. She laughed. These things always make her laugh. 37 years ago they made her really mad but now they make her laugh. I motioned to James to come and sit by me and expressed my displeasure. "But I had to go again, Daddy," he explained. Ah.Time passed. Ten minutes into the sermon James said, "Daddy, I have to go potty." "Ha," I laughed. "No way.""But I really have to goooooooooo.""You've gone twice. You don't need to go again. No way.""But, Daddyyyyyyy...""No. Sh.""But, Daddy. I have a poop coming out of me."Okay. Freeze frame. 'Cause you've been there, right? This is what "The Amazing Race" calls a detour. Use Phil's voice here: "A detour is a choice between two tasks, each with its own pros and cons." If I take him, I'm giving in to a 4-year-old, escorting him to the bathroom for the third time. If I don't, and I'm wrong, bad things happen. And so I said this: "You'd BETTER have a poop coming out of you. If we get to the bathroom and I don't see poop you are gonna GET IT."We left. It's funny. I remember walking out the first time, holding my son's hand, waving to my friends, smiling, slapping their shoulders. This time it was head down, quick feet, let's just get this done.(Before I could open the bathroom door, DCB and Troy walked out. I rolled my eyes and Doug said, "Yeah, we're havin' a day.")There was no poop. There was, however, a spanking. More tears. A lecture on the importance of showing God our respect and behaving in church. A whole lot of "I want MOMMY" 's. For some reason, upon returning yet again to our pew, James bee-lined for his Grandma and spent most of the service there. He came back towards the end, all pouty, and slumped against the back of the pew in front of us. I rubbed his back, stroked his hair, squeezed his neck. When I stopped he told me to "Keep doing that." So, of course, I did.One of the many things I value about Lisa is that she knows how important it is to me to try and keep up with what is happening during our assembly time. She knows that I like to refer to what has gone before when I speak and she keeps James happy, often to the detriment of her own attention. I'm not sure if she's been able to focus on worship in almost five years. So, sadly, that's pretty much what I remember from our annual Harvest Sunday. I'm sure the singing was great, the fellowship was awesome, and the message was powerful. But I just remember the 4-year-old fiasco. Later, by the way, I found out that the actual pooping had been accomplished during Trip #2. So he was totally playing me. Live and learn.How much do you miss the good ol' days?P.S. I've just re-read the above and realized that at some point yesterday I actually said, "You'd better have a poop coming out of you." It helps to write things down to realize what we must sound like sometimes.
The Elder Son
"The lostness of the elder son is much harder to identify. After all, he did all the right things. He was obedient, dutiful, law-abiding, and hardworking. People respected him, admired him, praised him, and likely considered him a model son. Outwardly, the elder son was faultless. But when confronted by his father's joy at the return of his younger brother, a dark power erupts in him and boils to the surface. Suddenly, there becomes glaringly visible a resentful, proud, unkind, selfish person, one that had remained deeply hidden, even though it had been growing stronger and more powerful over the years."It is sad, but true, that the elder son makes me think of the church. It is all too easy to be aware of how the world perceives us: judgmental, superior, intolerant. We are the elder son, standing off to the side, watching the prodigal be embraced and welcomed and feeling nothing but resentment and anger.The painting is wrong, of course. In the parable, the elder son was out in the fields and he only heard the sound of a party as he was coming in from his labor. But the image Rembrandt gave us works. It shows us how aloof our intolerance makes us.Nouwen was stunned when a friend told him that he was not the prodigal of the story at all, but was the elder son. Most of us who were raised in the church more easily relate to him. "I've been doing this my whole life," we think. "And you want to come along now? After what you've done? You want to be my equal?" How many of us cannot think about the elder son without thinking of the parable of the equal wages? The same truth applies in both cases. God can give what He wishes to give, welcome whom He wishes to welcome. The generosity and grace he shows others does not remove one iota from what He's promised us. We are still redeemed. We still have our inheritance. The loving father told the elder son, "All I have is yours." But he knew how much more his son would have if he could forgive his brother and join in the celebration.The parable is open-ended. We don't know if the elder son relented. We don't know if the prodigal stayed true. But there is no question as to the constancy of the father.
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