“She is OK. But if her condition stays the way it is, in a few years we would not have an inheritance left” was Mary’s answer to my asking how her mother was. And she was laughing. I did not laugh. I did not think her answer was funny. I thought it was a sad situation – an insult to her aged mother, who then was living in a nursing home.
Mary’s mother seldom had visitors from her family. “They are too busy with their own lives,” Mary’s mother told me under her breath one day.
My conversation with Mary reminded me of an inheritance story in Scriptures – the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15).
A rich man had two sons. “Dad, I would like to have my inheritance now,” the younger son told his father one day.
At first, the father thought it was a joke, but then he realized his son was serious. He found out that his son had a new plan for his life.
In the culture of the time, an inheritance was not accessible while the father was alive.
Asking for his inheritance while his father was alive was a first-degree insult to the father. It was tantamount to the son saying, “Dad, I wish you were dead!”
But this father, out of the goodness of his heart, gave the money to his son.
Then, with all his treasures, the son went to a foreign land and squandered his inheritance. A few years later, a famine broke out in that country and he became destitute.
The only job he could find was to take care of pigs. Can you imagine it? Once a rich Jew, the son was now taking care of pigs? At times, the only thing he had to eat was pig slop. He was out of money and out of friends.
Often, people who fail blame others for their failure. They blame parents for not taking parenting seriously or blame a spouse for being selfish.
They also may blame society or the church, saying “The system is rigged” or “Church people are bunch of hypocrites.”
Sometimes people who fail say that they are right and everyone is wrong or that they are the victim and the world is their enemy.
At a certain point, the prodigal son ceased blaming others in such a manner and came to his senses. For the first time in a long time, he thought of home.
Memories of home warmed his heart – memories of a dinner table full of food, of a warm bed, of evenings on the porch talking to his father.
“Your eyes are like your father’s eyes,” he remembered people saying.
The prodigal son realized that the folks at home would not recognize him any more. He realized that he had blown every chance of a good life.
He regretted and felt sorry for what he done, and decided to go home.
The road home was longer than he remembered. When he last traveled it, he had turned heads because of his flamboyant style.
This time, if he turned heads, it was because of his smell. His clothes were torn, his hair matted and his feet black.
But that did not bother the prodigal son. For the first time in a long time. he had a clean conscience.
The prodigal son was going home a changed man – not demanding what he deserved, but willing to take whatever he could get.
The prodigal son’s “give me” attitude was changed to a “help me” attitude. His defiance had been replaced with repentance.
The prodigal son did not have any idea how much his father missed him. He had no idea that his father would pause between chores to look for him at the front gate. He had no idea how many times his father had awakened at night and gone to his son’s room and sat on his bed. He had no idea how many hours his father would sit on the porch next to an empty chair, missing him and longing to see his face.
“Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son,” he said to himself, rehearsing his speech one more time as he neared his home.
Before he approached the gate, he saw his father running to him. He looked at his father and saw tears in his father’s eyes as the father’s arms stretched wide to welcome him back home.
“Father, I have sinned,” he said, his words muffled as he buried his face in his father’s shoulder.
The two wept. For a long time, they held each other. Words were unnecessary. Repentance was made. Forgiveness was given.
In telling the story, did Jesus use His hands to illustrate the point?
Whether He did or not, we know He used His hands later.
On Calvary, He stretched His hands as far as He could. He forced His arms to open so wide that it hurt.
And to prove that those arms would never be folded and those hands would never be closed, He had them nailed open. They still are!