Should Prodigal's Be Rescued?
The Prodigal’s well-healed life was probably sunny for some time. With abundant resources, friends were easily purchased. Their flattery “intoxicated his vanity until he was sure of his superiority.” But when a famine in the land coincided with a famine in his pocketbook, all his “friends” were gone. His wild oats had “ripened into famine, his purchased friends into grunting swine”—He began to be in want.
Oh, the depths of the Prodigal’s humiliation—feeding pigs! “This was the most horrible spiritual hell that could ever befall a halfway decent Jew of that day. To work for a Gentile was bad enough, but to feed pigs was even worse.” Feeding animals which the Law said were unclean, would have been a pious Jew’s “ultimate degradation”—worse than being “forced into begging, thievery, or even prostitution.”
No parent would choose such devastation for his child. But it may be good news and a reason to not run to the far country to save your child. When the prodigal experienced want, when he came to the end of himself—his own strength, his own plans, his own devices, his own friends--only then was he ready to head for home.
David Sheff’s son became lost in the Far Country of Drugs. But from his journey through his lengthy nightmare, he learned how to help lost children: “I would not in any way help someone using drugs to do anything other than return to rehab. I would not pay their rent, would not bail them out of jail ..., would not pay their debts, and would never give them money.” If we "rescue" a Prodigal from living and eating with the pigs, he may never make the journey Home where a feast awaits him.
Sheff came to realize that he could not rescue his son: “I am confident that I have done everything I could do to help Nic. Now it’s up to him. I accept that I have to let him go and he will or will not figure things out.” Some people must learn the hard way that life’s kicks have kickbacks.
2011/05/25
2011/05/09
The Prodigal Son: Part 2
The Lure of "Far Countries"
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
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