Anne Lamott, in her book, “Traveling Mercies” retells an old story about a man getting drunk at a bar in Alaska. He’s telling the bartender how he recently lost whatever faith he’d had after his twin-engine plane crashed in the tundra.
“Yeah,” he says bitterly. “I lay there in the wreckage, hour after hour, nearly frozen to death, crying out for God to save me, praying for help with every ounce of my being, but he didn’t raise a finger to help. So I’m alone with the whole charade.”
“But,” said the bartender, squinting an eye at him, “you’re here. You were saved.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” says the man. “Because finally some dumb Eskimo came along.”
It seems that often times we just don’t get when God is trying to help us out.
A book that has forever changed my life is Henri Nouwen’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming.” If you were to look that book up on Amazon you would read, “A chance encounter with a poster depicting a detail of Rembrandt's ‘The Return of the Prodigal Son’ set in motion a chain of events that enabled Nouwen to redefine and claim his vocation late in his life.”
Nouwen tells of sitting there examining that work of art for hours. It captivated his very soul. And the observations he makes from that time of examination are worth far more than the price of the book. Are you getting the hint yet? Buy the book!
I was so impacted by Nouwen’s reflections that I have a copy of Rembrandt’s painting in my office, as a reminder of what God did as I allowed Nouwen’s reflections to launch me into His Word to understand this parable from a perspective I never had before.
I was introduced, it seemed for the first time, to the often-overlooked character in the parable of the prodigal son: The elder son. This man was filled with a spirit of resentment, complaining and judgmentalism. I realize that I have so often identified with the prodigal son, but realize now that I bare a striking resemblance to the elder son. In many conversations I’ve had with friends over the years they too have identified with the elder brother. I think it’s time to start a new support group, “Elder Brothers and Sisters Anonymous.”
I think that all of us will someday have to deal with the elder brother or the elder daughter in us. I say that because it seems that when you decide to come home to God the Father, when you decide to stop being the prodigal son, one of two things will happen to you: You will either become like the father or like the elder brother. The goal is to be like the Father, but it is so easy to drift into the attitudes of the elder brother. What can we do to move from being elder brothers and sisters to Father and Mothers, willing to do whatever it takes to model God’s compassion and love both for the wayward sinner and the wining saints?
Henri Nouwen writes, “Although we are capable of liberating ourselves from our frozen anger, we can allow ourselves to be found by God and healed by his love through the concrete and daily practice of trust and gratitude. Trust and gratitude are the disciplines for the conversion of the elder son. And I have come to know them through my own experience.”
Trust and gratitude are, indeed, disciplines. Trust allows me to be found and adored by the Father. If I am convinced, not necessarily in my head but in my experience, that the Father doesn’t think I’m just as worth finding and loving as my other brothers and sisters, I will be filled with chronic complaint and will be the prey of self-perpetuating hopelessness. In essence I drown out the affirming voice of God that says, “Trust me, my child, you have everything that you need…Me.” Isn’t that enough?
And then there’s gratitude, which is in reality the opposite of resentment. Resentment crowds out gratitude because it blocks the awareness of life as a gift. The voice of bitterness tells me, “Hey, you aren’t getting what you deserve” and is always exteriorized in envy. The choice of gratitude is a discipline because it hardly ever comes without some form of effort. However, every time I choose gratitude, the next choice gets a little easier, a little freer and a little less self-conscious.
So, fellow members of “Elder Brothers and Sisters Anonymous,” let’s allow the disciplines of trust and gratitude to put us in the place where our loving Father can take away our resentment, complaint and judgmentalism and place us by his side at His heavenly party.
Mike
Mike,
I loved the book and this post makes me want to pull it out again. Nouwen's time looking at the painting and his urging to all of us to "become the father" are powerful images. I too have spent far too much time as the older brother. I'll happily join the club.
Mark
Posted by: Mark | 01/21/2011 at 05:32 AM