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A young man approached his very rich father, and with a touch of arrogance, asked if he could get his inheritance immediately. Though concerned, his dad didn't argue with him and quietly gave it all to him. This young man wanted adventures, excitement, so he disappeared into the horizon with a massive pile of loot at his disposal. He confidently strutted off into his new world, leaving behind what once was. He started something new.  

With a heavy heart, this father knew how foolish his son was being. Dad knew it was dangerous. As he watched his youngster buy an expensive car to drive off in, the grief he was feeling was both painful, unbearable, and uncontrollable. He sobbed like a baby, wondering if he'd ever see his precious child again. 

This young man had an older brother, who watched the whole ordeal. He was distressed and angered when he saw his father's tears. But he also stood there with his own touch of arrogance, judging the decision, silently mocking his younger sibling, predicting a downfall.

The young man's adventures started off as planned. Life was good. He was winning. He had so much money, he could buy what he wanted. He was the life of the party. He became so popular, people flocked to him knowing he'd buy rounds of alcohol, crystal meth, heroin, or whatever they wanted. Money bought him the lifestyle he wanted, money had given him the power and freedom to indulge in whatever substances he chose, and he used his money to buy whatever sexual favors he wanted. He was a buyer, a user, and a seller. He quickly discovered how there were no consequences to his actions, because even when he got arrested a few times for bar fights, driving under the influence, and drug transactions, he quickly learned how money gets you out of trouble. It was money that helped him never see prison time, as he learned to bribe the police, pay his bond, and buy good lawyers. He was living large. It was going as planned. He was loving it! 

Meanwhile, the father heard reports all the foolish spending and was concerned. He was wise and knew that what goes up eventually comes down. He missed his boy and often sat at his table praying for his younger son's health, well-being, and protection. 

The older son would see his dad, he saw the pain in his eyes and seethed with rage! He'd grown to despise his younger brother and often would try to get his father to forget "the foolish one who took advantage of him and ripped him off!"

The young man's adventures slowly began to go down some rougher paths. His extravagant and danger-filled lifestyle started to take a toll. He felt the pain of alcohol poisoning, overdosing on opiates, crashing his car, and getting kicked out of the hotels he had been living in. Despite the ER visits, despite his vanishing fortune, despite his rising debts, despite his addictive lifestyle, he wanted to keep "living his dream". He needed to cling on to his friends, so out of a need to keep the appearance of wealth, he became the very ones he'd mock and scoff at. He had to choose cheaper hotels. He had to downgrade his car. Instead of paying for a prostitute, he became the one being paid for. His desperation was growing. Then one day, he got tricked and sold drugs to an undercover cop, who arrested him. This time, his dwindling fortune couldn't save him. He didn't have enough for bail, he had to use a public defender, and ended up being convicted and sentenced to a year in a State Penitentiary. 

Meanwhile, his father and older brother remained safely at home, unsure of where he was. His daddy constantly looked out the window, waiting, hoping, praying. His older brother kept on working and being the "responsible one", constantly comparing himself to the "rebellious one." Even though he was comfortable and "doing right", he couldn't understand why his little bro was "living rent-free in his head". He knew he should be happy, but he couldn't shake the feeling, it irritated him and messed with his inner-peace.

As the younger sibling sat in his prison cell, he was determined not to let this misstep get in the way. He still wanted it all, he wanted to regain that reputation, so when he was released on parole he returned to doing the exact same things. It wasn't long before his parole officer violated him for having a "dirty drop", and he ended up behind bars again. It was here, he started reflecting on what and who he'd left behind. He hadn't called them or responded to their attempts to contact him. He had just disappeared. He knew how wrong he'd been. He reflected on how cruel and selfish he'd been. He wept. He bowed his head and prayed. 

Upon release, he told himself there was no way he'd ever be accepted by his father after all the disappointment he'd caused. He was determined to rise up and prove himself, but the world is a cruel and unforgiving place, especially to those with felonies and a history of addiction. His so-called friends he'd tried to buy now mocked him and pushed him away. He couldn't find a job or a place to live. His journey had taken him from prison to the streets, and he found he couldn't escape the vicious chains of homelessness. He would sleep in alleyways, tent cities, in shelters, reflecting on all he'd thrown away and what he could have been and had. As someone experiencing homelessness he'd become the very people he used to abuse and spit on. He couldn't find work, his stomach would groan for lack of food, and he'd often reflect on how delicious the meals were he once devoured at his faraway home. 

One bitterly cold night, as he lay near a city vent trying to muster a little warmth, he decided to humble himself and venture back to his daddy. He would beg to be accepted. He was desperate, he decided he'd offer to work for food and board. He'd beg to sleep in the rusty old shed at the back of the property. He knew that would be better than the rat-infested alleyway he was lying in. He knew the scraps from his father's table would be better than eating out of trashcans. He thought he'd probably be rejected, but at least he'd try. So with his flimsy backpack, his raggedy clothes, his empty stomach, his lack of money, he started walking in the direction of his dad. Praying!

The journey wasn't easy. His mind was restless and occupied on how he'd beg for his father's forgiveness. He feared rejection. He'd walk. He'd hitchhike. He'd scrounge up enough money to catch the occasional bus. He'd beg for food. Despite the obstacles, he courageously pushed on, constantly praying that his father may have a little mercy on his wretched soul. 

After a long agonizing journey, he finally entered his town. His heart was pounding, he was moving slowly. This was the most terrifying and courageous thing he'd ever done. He was still a long way off when he saw his father running up to him, and before he knew what hit him, his dad had embraced him, kissed him, and said: "welcome home". 

He tried to beg, to say "sorry', to utter his well-thought-out speech, but his dad ignored the fumbling words and simply said: "welcome home!" 

His father didn't stop there, he threw him an outrageous party. He brought out and paid for all the best foods, drinks, and entertainment. It was crowded. It was crazy. It was loud. It was an insane celebration! 

It was such a joyous occasion until the older brother showed up and destroyed the whole vibe. He was full of rage and refused to join in! He couldn't believe what he saw, so he confronted his daddy, reminding him of how his little brother had put him through so much pain, all the wrongs he had done, and how this young fool could never be trusted. With arrogance seeping out of his veins, he reminded in his father of how sensible he'd been, how he'd never left him, and how he had remained faithful all these years. He scoffed at his "naive" father. He told him he was being conned and proclaimed that he was rewarding the wrong child. He refused to party. 

With love in his eyes, with a throbbing pain in his heart, the old man looked at his sulking firstborn, and said, "Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he’s alive! He was lost, and he’s found!"

Sadly, these words didn't convince him. He was convicted of his own holiness, of the perceived injustice, of his sibling's tainted past. He couldn't let it go. As the party continued, he left consumed and tortured by his own bitterness.

I am all 3 of these men. I am the rebellious child needing grace. I am the sulking jealous child enraged that the "unrighteous" receive grace. I can even be the one showing grace. I think most of us fluctuate between all 3, but growth comes as we’re transformed from our own bitterness into being Christlike, from being unforgiving to forgiving, from seeking revenge to pursuing peace, from being merciless to merciful. God calls to cast aside our selfish ways to clothe ourselves in garments of His embracing love and mercy.   

Grace - the gift God freely gives us, so we may freely and generously bestow it on others. 

Grace - the unmerited favor we're freely given, even though we don't deserve it, to freely give to others that don’t deserve it either.

The father would have been deemed wise and responsible to act like the oldest child. He made sense, but the Kingdom of God contradicts the sensibilities of this world. God wants us to follow His way, His love, even though it makes no sense to the kingdoms of this world! God could have chosen to enact "law and order", the world's version of justice, but His ways aren't our ways. He chooses compassion. He chooses grace. 

Even though the church often acts like the older brother, Jesus tells his followers to love like the father did. Too often we push away and cast out those who should be embraced. Too often, we choose rejection, shame, guilt, and condemnation over inclusion and acceptance. Too often we put up fences instead of opening doors. Too often, in the name of law and order, we’d rather incarcerate instead of running toward the despised, embracing them, and saying “welcome home”. 

God’s loving way makes no logical sense. Grace makes no sense. Jesus tells his followers to also make no sense because it’s His way and it’s the right way, the loving way. God’s way is an act of faith. It means embracing who shouldn’t have been embraced, forgiving who shouldn’t have been forgiven, and loving those who deserve retribution.

Grace doesn't dwell on all the agony someone may personally put us through. The father didn't dwell on the pain, all the wrongs his rebellious youngster had committed. He didn't dwell on how risky or foolish it could be to invite him back into his home, he simply said, "welcome home"

He didn't guilt-trip the young man, reminding him of all the agonizing tears he'd shed. He didn't rebuke him, reminding him of all the iniquities he'd committed and money he'd wasted. He didn't give his son a condemning speech, highlighting how trust had been lost and needs to be earnt. No! He simply said, "welcome home!"

Love doesn't keep a record of wrongs. It forgives. It's merciful. It takes risks. It's courageous. It embraces. It makes no sense. 

Love says, "welcome home!"