Reflections on Luke
15:11-12
A man had two
sons. The younger of them said to his
father, “Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.”
Luke 15:11-12
Luke tells us the Pharisees and scribes grumbled at
Jesus. They couldn’t understand why He was a friend of sinners. 1 Why
receive them? Why eat with them? Didn’t the Law demand complete separation – no
contact whatsoever? So why didn’t He comply? In response, in kindness, Jesus
told them story after story.
About His kingdom. About His Father.
A man had two sons. Wealthy sons.
Not in money. It had nothing to do with money. It had
everything to do with their father, their family. Compassion reigned in their
home. These young men had what many in this world only dream of having – they
had love. They had their father’s heart. What compares to that? These are the
true riches God intends every person to have and these men had it to the full.
Beyond full.
This, this alone, made them vastly rich.

By treating him like he’s already dead.
His father should say no, but he doesn’t. He gives his
son the money. He knows what no father should know -- his son’s heart has
already left him. Soon enough, the young man gathers his things, loads his
transport, and leaves home. I wonder, did he look back? Did he see his father’s
face – grieving, weeping?
As if, actually, he’s the one who died.
How do these things happen? How can our children break
from us like that – taking what they can, spitting in our face, despising our
love, and choosing to live life contrary to everything they know is right and
true?
Outside their home. Outside their God.
His son disappears over the horizon and he dies another
death. He knows how the story plays out. He’ll go to a foreign country,
worshipping foreign gods, and squander his entire estate on parties and
prostitutes.2 How does he know that? He knows that because his son,
his dear son, has already squandered the one and only thing in life that
matters most.
His heart.
And so he marks the spot. The place where he last saw his
son. And every day, morning and night, he knows he will stand here and look.
Wait. Hope.
And cry.
*
* *
I
called my wife on the drive home from work. “Hey, how was your day?”
“Did
you hear about Callie?” Erilynne asked abruptly.
“No,”
I said, “What happened?”
“She’s
in the hospital. Dave called early this afternoon and asked if I had time to go
and visit her. Of course, I said ‘yes’. I just got back a half hour ago.”
“It’s
not life threatening, is it?”
“I
don’t think so. I’ll fill you in when you get here,” she said, trying to be
hopeful. But there was hesitation in her voice that concerned me.
As
I pulled the car into the driveway, Erilynne was in the yard walking our Old
English Sheepdog. She waved with a hint of a smile but I could see the worry on
her face. We’ve known Dave and Callie for the better part of ten years and Callie,
especially, since she works side by side with Erilynne in the women’s ministry
at church. They’re friends, talking every couple of days or so and meeting for
lunch occasionally. Whatever this was, I knew it was serious.
Per
usual, our sheepdog came running full blast the moment she saw my car. I opened
the door and she came crashing in, barely letting me out. As I stooped down to
play with her, I kept my eyes on Erilynne walking towards me.
“So,
this doesn’t sound good, huh?” I started.
“No,”
she said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“Why?”
“Dave
asked me to call him when I got to the hospital. He said he’d meet me at the
information desk and take me to Callie’s room. I didn’t think much of it, at
first, but it seemed odd to me. Why didn’t he just give me her room number? Well,
it turns out, Dave wanted to talk to me before I saw Callie. He wanted me to
tell me privately that she was admitted this afternoon to the psych ward.”
“Psych
ward? Callie?” I said, puzzled.

I
could tell she wasn’t convinced.
“When
we got to the room, Callie’s mom was there. She was friendly, as usual, but as
adamant as Dave was – ‘Everything’s going to be fine. She’s only in for a few
days. It’s been a rough few months’ – that kind of thing. But I could tell in
Callie’s eyes something else was going on.”
“Like
what?” I asked.
“Like
fear. Like Dave and her mom are covering up what really happened. I mean both
of them went out of their way to keep the conversation upbeat and pleasant.
Callie was quiet for most of it. Then, a little while later when I started to
leave, Callie grabbed my hand and asked me to pray for her – which I did – but
after, she whispered, ‘Can we talk?’ I’m telling you, she’s scared.”
I
stood there, trying to take it all in. It just didn’t sound like Callie to me.
“So
if it’s not hormonal imbalance,” I asked, “what is it?”
She
didn’t hesitate. “I’m thinking the worst.”
“Worst?”
I said, not understanding.
“I
think she may have tried to kill herself.”
Over
the next few days, I came alongside Dave as Erilynne continued seeing Callie
during visiting hours at the hospital. She never got her alone. There was
always someone there and always this look of desperation in Callie’s eyes. One
night, when I got home, Erilynne said she’d found something in one of her
journals from a few years back.
“I
want you to read this,” she said, handing it to me. I took it, noting it was
her prayer journal from 2010.
Sometimes I get the feeling I can’t find the real Callie.
She doesn’t let me in. And when she does – when she drops her guard – I’m not
sure I like what I see. Don’t get me wrong. She’s perfect for the women who
come on Thursdays -- especially the women she counsels. She’s bright, gifted,
attractive, and deeply respected.
Lord, I’m grateful for her. You know that.
Today, at lunch, I sensed it again. We sat down, the four
of us, and somehow got talking about how You care for our most intimate,
mundane needs. Jo shared, then Beckie, then me. Quite naturally, we turned to
Callie. She was right there with us, engaged in the conversation, and quick to
share a story…
About someone else.
Maybe the others didn’t notice. But I did. I never hear
Callie’s story. She never speaks about You in her life. She speaks about You in
the Bible. She speaks about You in other people. But never her and You – from
the heart, intimate and real. And I’m left wondering – does she know You? Is
she with You?
Is she, like the prodigal son, a prodigal daughter? The
same – because she knows the power and depth of Your love for her but somehow
rejects it? Doesn’t believe it? Turns from it and, in turning, squanders it?
No, she’s not living her rebellion out loud like the prodigal son. Nothing
indecent. Nothing immoral.
Just far away from You.
If this is true, Lord, bring her home. Please, in Jesus’
name, bring her home.
1 See Matthew 11:19
2 The expression, “parties and prostitutes” is
found in The Living Bible and resonates with how the older brother viewed his
younger brother’s escapades. See Luke 15:30.
2 comments:
There are many Callies in the world, in our churches. They are sometimes harder to reach than pagans.
Your writing always gets my complete attention and before I know it, I'm in the story with these people. I just wish I didn't have to wait for the next blog to see about Callie. So hurry and write the "rest of the story." Thanks
Post a Comment