Both sons were lost.  The father forgives both sons, attempts to reconcile both sons, and throws a party! The point is to be the father, yet many of us see ourselves as one of the brothers.

Much has been made over the brother who makes bad decisions, goes away, squanders his inheritance and comes back in disgrace. The father runs out and interrupts the confession with a celebration.

This prodigal son is the patron saint of the born-again; those who lived a wild life and then came to their senses.

The summer before my 9^th grade year, I was  a Counselor in Training at YMCA Camp Tippecanoe. I dreamt of being a  summer camp counselor, they were so cool! They knew cool music, they were fun, they had the best nicknames: Ranger, Dusty, Froggy, Kit.

That summer, I was assigned for the week to the 6^th grader cabin. I was a mopey 9^th grader. When we had to pick camp nicknames, I picked Zero, the title of a Smashing Pumpkins song. I was paired with another mopey long-haired kid whose nickname was “Metal Head.” Our head counselor’s nickname was Christian, and he was a meat-head jock. He was all energy, always turned up to 11, and I was trying my best to be zero or negative (hence the nickname).

On the second day, he sat the whole cabin down and told a tale of a kid who was all mixed up. “This kid got bad grades and ran with a fast crowd. He would booze and do drugs. He got mixed up with girls whom he treated poorly. This kid would get into fights. He would break stuff in his house to make his parents mad, he never listened to them, he was out all hours, he wouldn’t go to school if he didn’t feel like it. He was hurting himself and damaging others and then BAM! He woke up and found Jesus.”

I interrupted, “That guy was you.”  He gave me a look and kept on going.

“This kid was worthless, no good, heading nowhere, then BAM! Jesus! Once you have Jesus, you can do anything! He found a church that introduced him to the Lord and now he’s got friends, he’s on track to graduate college, he has an internship, and…” he paused and spread his hands out. “He’s standing right in front of you.”

The 6^th graders all gasped and cheered and hopped up and down celebrating. They LOVED Christian. Me and Metal Head looked at each other and rolled our eyes.

After we had gotten the kids showered, said our prayers, and tucked them in for the night, Christian asked Metal Head and me to come outside. He sat on a picnic bench and looked up at the summer night sky.

“You guys are both super smart,” Christian began. “I wish I was as smart as you when I was your age. I was too busy looking for approval from my so-called friends. Too busy thinking of crazy things I should do to impress them and make them laugh. You both don’t seem to care what others think. That’s good. It took me a long time to learn that. That’s what I was trying to share with the kids. You guys already have that.”

He took a deep breath. He never once looked at us, just stared at the sky. He continued, “Yet it also feels like you don’t care how others feel. When someone’s talking, just listen. The kids will love you for it. They love me partly because I’m crazy and fun, but they also know that I listen. If you want to be a counselor, that’s the trick.” Then he walked away, and we were left staring at the sky.

The prodigal son met two older brothers. We were those older brothers, laughing up our sleeve at Christian. Some jock that took a long time to get to a place we already were. Instead of rejoicing that he had straightened out his life, like our campers did, we rolled our eyes.

I think this is still happening. We who have been in the church all our lives forget that Christ came not for the religious, not for the healthy, but those on the margins, for those who were sick. Sometimes we don’t know what to do with those who come to us from the margins. We’re not sure how best to help. Not sure what to do, so we can get defensive and roll our eyes and get exasperated.

Maybe we just need to listen. We don’t need to jump to fix right away. Just listen.

I must confess I’m an older brother, in real life and in this story. I get jealous of hearing those dramatic born-again stories. My friend has one. He was alcoholic and he was sleeping around on his wife. One Sunday morning, his wife dragged him to church and he wept through the whole thing. He saw Jesus there, right during prayer time. Jesus came and sat next to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Since then, that man has gone to church every Sunday, hasn’t had a drop of alcohol, and has become a model husband and father. He is someone I greatly admire.

Yet if I’m honest, I’m sad I’ve never had such an experience. My walk with God has been less dramatic. I’ve felt little nudges. I’ve had those “warming of the heart” experiences where you just feel great to be alive for no reason. I’ve had a few mystical experiences, but never seeing Jesus, never that. Sometimes I wonder why I haven’t, and I feel jealous at those stories. Should I go out and party and live horribly just to have such a vision and then go back to living like I’ve been?

When the father throws the party for the prodigal, the older brother must have felt that same jealousy. And that jealousy becomes anger, and he doesn’t go into the party. So the father comes out and pleads with him.

“Listen, I’ve been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours…” But when this son of yours…

Here’s a sign that you need to forgive someone: you can’t say their name. You can’t even be associated with them. “When this son of yours…” Not “My Brother…”  “This so-called friend…” “My ex…” “my former boss…” “That yard manager…” “The sociopath…”

Another sign you need to forgive: when you can only think of what they’ve done, or only associate them with a situation. “He has devoured your property with prostitutes…” “The family reunion of ’98…” “Homecoming…” “What they said about me…” “What they did to my friend at Christmas…”

Another sign you need to forgive: When you feel something bad when their name is mentioned, can only name what you’re owed, can only say what others got and what you’ve been denied or slighted. “You killed the fatted calf for him!” My kids are pros at this one, especially at dessert time, “They got a bigger piece than me!” maybe the adult version is being bitter at another’s house or paycheck or new car.

What Forgiveness is: Who God is. Forgiveness is a process. The best definition I heard is that forgiveness is when you stop wishing the past was different. As Zoe York states, “Forgiveness means letting go of the hope of a better past.”

The Father has already forgiven the prodigal son. He has also forgiven the older brother for feeling the way he does. He reminds him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Then he reminds him of his connection, “But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.”

You cannot change the past. You cannot take the words back. You cannot change the events. You won’t be able to forgive yourself or others for not doing things differently until you stop wishing things were different.

I wish Christian had found freedom without making the bad decisions first. I wish people didn’t have to endure addictions, peer pressure, and the regret of bad decisions. Yet without those, I wouldn’t have the wisdom from his path.

After all these years, I remember each and every word he spoke to me. Those words are burned into my mind as brightly as the stars shining in the summer sky. I can’t speak for Metal Head, but this Zero learned something that day and maybe those words sent me on the path here. I started to listen to the campers and had a great rest of the week. I enjoyed Christian much more. I felt more positive toward other people. When we learn the stories of someone else, I think that makes it easier to forgive. Yet there’s also family, we can think we know too much about someone and not see the subtle ways they have changed, we think we know them so we stop listening. It has taken me so long to realize that Christian and I… well we’re brothers. Brothers in Christ.

Learn to listen. Stop wishing for a better past. Know that God is inviting us to a party and we can invite others too. How would that change our life together? How would that change how we worship? Organize church? Organize our town, state, and nation?

Come prodigals! Come older siblings! Our heavenly parent has claimed us! Accept that you are accepted! Believe this good news! It just might turn your life around! May we live in such a way that 6^th graders cheer and jump up and down and celebrate!