"I don't want to stay here anymore!"
"I'm leaving!"
Words no one ever wants to hear but words that slipped through the cracks of a broken heart and a disappointing past.
I had screamed those words at my parents as I packed my duffle bag full of video games, a change of clothes, and a pack of Little Debbies.
They had denied me a privilege that I was certain I was entitled to receive. And what was worse? They let me pack my bags and begin the hike out the driveway and down the road without hesitation.
What were they thinking?
There was no begging me to stay! No coercion or manipulation! Just a heart melting under the heat of my insincere and selfish rants of disappointment. Waiting.
All of us, at some time in our lives, have done this. We've thrown a fit in the middle of the cereal aisle. We've screamed at friends and family. We've ranted on social media assuring the world that our voices would be heard.
My childhood tantrum and my parents' loving and somewhat unsuspecting response leads me to ponder another familiar story in the Bible.
It's the story of the "Prodigal Son." It's a son who demands his inheritance before the death of his father. When he squanders all his wealth on worldly living and finds himself literally in the 'muck and mire' of a pig's pen, he decides to make a plea of desperation.
But before he could speak one word of the apology he had hoped to recite, the "Prodigal Father" lavishly placed the finest clothes, feast, and title on this young boy. "You are my son!" Wow!
We're just like the son. We're quick to point fingers, place blame, scream obscenities about how unfair life has been, and run recklessly in the wrong direction. Then, when we find ourselves in the pit of despair and sorry for our mistake-ridden past, we attempt to fix our mess all on our own.
God the Father, just like my parents and just like the prodigal's father, is waiting. He doesn't need our apologies as much as he needs our attention. He will let us say the despicable and do the unthinkable only to create a greater awareness of our need for him.
Seriously, how long were the video games, a change of clothes, and some Debbie Cakes going to sustain me? How long will doing this our own way really last?
The Father is waiting. He's watching. And he's simply counting down the seconds to make an all out sprint in your direction, while you are "still a long way off!"
