Call the Chauffeur

The Prodigal Daughter has the Car Keys!

Major life events, or series of events will sometimes cause a person to pause and wonder where they are in relation to their God. Certainly it has happened a few times in my life. 

But I’ve never really considered myself ‘prodigal.’ In fact, until today I had not really researched that term...I had only assumed the term meant to be very naughty...disobey all the rules...destroy decency until nothing was left. I learned that in it’s original language, ‘prodigal’ means to ‘drive forth.’

After some consideration of the text itself, observing opinions of others, and a search for definition (not exactly an exegesis) I have found what it means for my life. I AM a prodigal daughter. Tears, flowing appropriately but short lived, I have to drive on.

For me it is the waste of driving oneself when the chauffeur is available...My drives don't always lead to beneficial places.  I’ve always been a bit of an under achiever in the sense of the application of my gifts to beget monetary or popular attentions. I don’t like attention and I simply didn’t choose a career that brought much monetary reward. (Though I had a very good financial planner!)  I am very creative...out of the box quite often. I bet I’ve had a hundred "get rich" ideas in my lifetime, hundreds of good ideas about many things, but no idea how to honor my creative nature with rewards. The recognition of hard work, 1st place ribbons, thank you’s, and praises, were priceless rewards....but pass the peanut butter for lunch on payday.  In recent years, I have driven myself to places and people who wasted my goodness, my special gifts, my intellect and the fact that I am created in the image of Greatness.

So now, I see my aging life coming closer to that ultimate payday and I wonder if I’ve lived rightly. Why isn’t there much more to show for it?

Toward what destination do I drive this car?  Why did I wait so late to end a failed marriage? Why did I risk the ravages of debt to get free of emotional turmoil so late in life? Why did I choose to abandon certain security for the unknown terraine of life alone? Where are the expected symbols of success...a published book; framed photos of awards; recognition? 

These questions drove me to seek answers - explanations to make sense of a past lived authenticly...and for reasons I cannot exactly identify, I found myself at the feet of the master teacher, listening to his story of the prodigal son.

And answers began to come....I realized I gave it all up to just be ME...to know that I was living life in the genuine lane, not the fear lane. To experience awakening each day with no one angry at me; condescending toward me; criticizing me. How many years did I ask God for a good life without fear? And suddenly, one morning, a power within me drove me out of bed and I stood there with this deep sense of being a new creation...I was a woman I didn’t know...resolved, with a determined goal and an internal understanding that I had been set free.

I’ve never looked back.  [Yes, I have struggled.]

But what does this have to do with the biblical text of a young man who demanded his inheritance and abandoned his father’s home to go abroad? Well, the connection to my life (and likely yours) is not in the parallels of common behaviors or ‘what exactly’ is lost or gained. But in the fact that I lost the sense of when enough was enough. And who would want to stop in the middle of joy?  So free, so uninterrupted, so amazingly satisfying.  I couldn't get enought of the freshness. For many moons, I was pulled by the unfamiliar maze of delectable choices. New things to taste and touch and inhale...how awesome it has been!  "Enough" didn't register.  I created a lot of stuff to confess.  The nature of freedom is that it often costs one’s life and that is when I realized I’d gone far enough, alone, freely, and I needed to be planted somewhere again. This brought me to the text...and certainly unlike any previous reading of it! 

The parable’s character, the prodigal son, had a different life than mine. But I’m fortunate; He and I have the same Father! My Father has been patient and gentle with my numerous missteps...and recently He looked up and saw that I was traveling near our home and sent his Spirit rushing to bring me back.  I am living the ‘being brought back’ part of the story now. It has just begun and can’t be shared yet.

For me the inspiration of the prodigal story came from what had been previously (like 50 years!) unseen....I had never before noticed the powerful inaction of the son's father in this awesome parable.  As the son continues his confessions to his father, the text states that "the father wasn’t listening." Wasn’t listening? Wasn't listening!  In fatherly wisdom the old man knew who, what, when, and where. Shut up the guilt, the repetition of failures...just accept the warmth of the father’s forgiving love, his abundant gifts of restoration. You’re home...that’s all that matters.

All my professional accomplishments... an image on a prominent billboard, a few published writings, my quote on a major university flyer, notes and letters from changed lives (I was a teacher)...are in a manila folder in a drawer.  Over, finished, mostly forgotten.  A simpler path leads to my wonderful future.  Drive on.

The chauffeur is driving again...and I’m not looking back.

(The Message is my reference Bible for this post)