MALCOLM AND CHERYL SMITH / THE STORYTELLER
Early encounters with Holy Spirit—the Gospel, growing in the language of love, shifting paradigms from separation to union, the conviction of God’s goodness, The Prodigal Son and the Good Father, Jesus the storyteller, and the significance of presenting the gospel through story, prison ministry, and transformative love, the Eucharist, the eternal now, gratitude and enjoyment; in this conversation Malcolm and Cheryl Smith share their background and journey in ministry, highlighting key moments of encounter and revelation.
For more on Malcolm & Cheryl Smith
Website: www.unconditionallovefellowship.com
Website: www.malcolmsmith.org
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Podcast intro and outro music by Wilde Assembly
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You Think You’re Better Than God?
“Oh, No! I think I’m better than God!”
I could barely squeeze the words out; I was so astonished by them. But our Father had outmaneuvered me and I could no longer un-see what my thoughts and actions pointed towards. It was too late to hide them behind a theology that knew better. I groaned in disbelief, not at Him but at me.
I was several weeks into a series of teachings on Luke chapter 15 at my church. Three of the stories of Jesus: “The Lost Sheep,” “The Lost Coin,” and the exceptionally poorly titled “Prodigal Son.” I was trying to look at that last story, the greatest short story ever told, from as many different angles as possible. So, I tried to step back from everything I already knew about it and just describe each of the main characters.
As I read through the text yet again, I began to form a description of the infamous younger son: selfish, rude, spoiled brat, wasteful, self-centered, desperate, hungry, calculated, scheming…
And then, turning my attention to the older son: distant, uninterested, dutiful, hardworking, suspicious, stubborn, self-righteous, judgmental, comparing, insecure, whiner…
And finally, the dad: incredibly generous – even indulgent, gracious, patient, forgiving, extravagant, joyful, patient (again), gentle, calm, reassuring, determined to celebrate, reasonable…
Wait did I just describe God, the Father as “incredibly generous – even indulgent?”
No, actually, Jesus did!
I could feel the theological police in my mind springing into action to take that thought captive. I mean, seriously… “indulgent” is a bad word where I come from. It is a word we use to describe the person who enables all kinds of bad behaviors in others, or the one who indulges him- or herself in ways they shouldn’t. After all, isn’t one fruits of the Spirit, self-control?
I was tempted to cooperate with those theological police, and help them lock that thought up in some dark corner of my mind and throw away the key. But I couldn’t. I was too curious. After all, this is the story where Jesus describes His Dad in more detail than any other. This is where He shows us what “Abba” is really like.
I ventured a little farther along the path.
I started to consider how I related to Him compared to how I relate to my own children. I expected God to provide for me, IF…
If I asked in just the right way. (I’ve read those books on prayer that give me 12 steps to get my prayers answered, as long as I do them in the right order…) And, if, and this is a big IF, if I really needed whatever it was, which of course, most of the time I didn’t.
On the other hand, I often, routinely gave my children what they didn’t ask for and didn’t need. I’d buy them clothes because they’d look good in them not because they were lacking. I’d buy them a meal at a restaurant because they’d enjoy it, not because we didn’t have any food left in the refrigerator. I’d take them on an expensive vacation and buy them ice cream, not because they “needed” either of them.
That was when it hit. “I think I am better than God!”
The next thoughts came swiftly, “For crying out loud, you are a pastor, you have been teaching the Bible for decades, you should know better…” My head did, but my heart was unconvinced.
As depressing as it was, what else could it mean, when I expect more of me than I do of Him?
That was the first time, but not the last time, I had that disturbing thought, that rude awakening.
Since then, I have noticed it in other areas besides provision, like when I beg God to heal someone, as if, my pleading needs to overcome His reluctance (A.K.A. “I’m more compassionate than Him”).
I could go on, but I think you get my point: My thoughts and my behaviors betray the fact that I think I am better than God.
The sad part is, you probably do too, and now, you won’t be able to un-see it either.
You can thank me later!
He’s better than we ever dared to imagine.
Papa, show us how good You really are!
Amen.
Pete Scheller is the pastor of Destiny Christian Fellowship in Madison WI. He and his wife, Alison, lead conferences focused on the heart of the Father, the Mind of the Son, and the Power of the Spirit.
www.heartmindspirit.us
Schellerpete@gmail.com
Heaven, Hell, and the Older Brother
While I have reasons to believe God is a relentless redeemer both in this life and the next, reasons I have articulated in articles past, when asked if redemption is available after this life, I think a really healthy position every believer should probably have is…
“I don’t know, but I sure hope so.”
While all other thoughts can be endlessly and biblically discussed, to me, “I don’t know, but I sure hope so,” best resonates what is Christlike.
Jesus, hanging on a cross beneath heaven and earth, said, “Father, forgive them.” (from Luke 23:34)
“Them” is everyone. There is no exclusion, no “Father forgive them if they repent, if they agree with me, if they receive me, if they love me, if they say a sinners prayer, if they believe in my name.”
Nope.
Just, “Father, forgive them.”
All of them.
2 Corinthians 5:19 furthers this thought telling us that on the cross, God was in Christ reconciling “the world to Himself” not counting our sin against us.
“The world” is all the peoples. There are no omissions, no “The world except for France, Saskatoon Canada, and the Prisco’s house at 37 W. Clowney St.
Nope.
Just, “the world.”
All of it.
Then, Jesus, on a cross, said, “It is finished.” (John 19:30)
“Finished.” Case closed, settled, resolved. There is no one overlooked, no “It is finished except for Hank.”
Nope…
In Luke 15 Jesus tells a story about an older brother who came in from working in the field to discover that his younger brother, the one who had left years earlier with some of his family’s money and participated in “wild living,” was home, forgiven, and restored to the family.
Benson’s Commentary refers to the younger brother’s “wild living” as “…choosing such companions as were most agreeable to his vicious inclinations, and, connected with these, he wallowed in unbounded riot and debauchery. Thus sinners, through a spirit of infidelity, independence of God, pride, self-conceit, and the love of pleasure…”
Dang, that’s some bad living.
But this kind of living only has one end. The younger brother hit rock bottom. Lost in his bad decisions, broken in his shame, experiencing the hell of desperate consequences, he remembers his father’s kindness. This memory softens the young brother’s heart and he repents; he thinks differently about his father and himself. “I’ll go home” he decides. I’ll say to my father, “I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.”
Well, you know the rest of the story…
The younger brother, nearing home, sees his father from afar and falls to his knees. Then he crawls toward his master. As he crawls he begs, and pleads, and grovels, and says a sinners prayer, and cries out “unworthy” until he finally arrives at his father’s feet, blistered, exposed and utterly ashamed.
You remember…
At first, the father is wrathful. He watches his boy grovel and nods appreciatively, the fury on his face softening ever so slightly as he basks in the glory of his son’s acknowledgment of failure and humiliation. Stoic, the father, a perfect picture of justice, waits on his porch until his son arrives at his feet, blistered, exposed and utterly ashamed.
As a statue, the father continues to wait. The son must say the words; he needs to hear the words!
The son, weeping recites his plea for forgiveness. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.”
As the son speaks, the father nods while sternly withholding his forgiveness until the son finally looks up and asks, “Is it finished?”
The father, emotionless, pauses, and the younger son holds his breath, his life hanging in the balance.
“I am satisfied,” the father says, and then, “I forgive you. You may now take your place as the lowliest servant in my house and we’ll see how it goes from there.”
And this is where everyone who has read the story sighs in relief, thankful for such a circumspect, judiciously charitable father.
Am I laying the sarcasm on too thick?
The truth is, the young son never had a chance to even get the word “sorry,” out of his mouth, let alone recite his entire confession. The father saw him from a distance and ran to his son and swept him up in an embrace. No, “sorry pops,” no sinner’s prayer, just perfect love, stunning forgiveness, and beautiful restoration.
Don’t get me wrong, the words the son had rehearsed were decent words, words his heart believed to be true, words the son felt he needed to say. But they were not words the father needed to hear.
Why? Because the father had forgiven his son long before he ever left home. That’s how love works. That’s how forgiveness works.
Forgiveness is not something earned, therefore it can be given before an offense even occurs.
The father wasn’t waiting on his prodigal son’s repentance to forgive him. Why? Because our Father’s nature, His love, affection, and forgiveness, isn’t determined by the actions or thoughts of His kids. We don’t get a say in the finished work of the cross.
Get it?
Jesus said “Father forgive them,” “the world,” all of it. All humanity is reconciled in the “finished” work of the cross. Our repentance has nothing to do with His forgiveness, it is simply the recognition of what He has already done. Our role is to receive.
We are forgiven before we sin.
We are forgiven before we repent. That’s the nature of our Heavenly Father’s love. His forgiveness was revealed through the cross. It has been given whether we believe it or not. Isn’t that just good news?
On the flipside, to believe our repentance plays a role in His forgiveness is religious arrogance. It’s self-righteous earning, it’s slaving for our salvation, it’s “older brother” thinking.
Yeah, let’s talk about the older brother.
Do you still remember the story?
The older brother, upon hearing about his young brother’s return, leaps with delight and races to the house to greet him. Upon arriving, he discovers a party has been thrown and he’s so pleased! He can hear his father and younger brother inside the house celebrating like heaven on earth, and he runs in to join them. As he enters the house there is cheering and wonder and joy and also reverence for the relentless, restorative nature of their father. Everyone is so happy!
I don’t know about you, but I’m enjoying the satire.
That’s not what happened. The older brother, discovering his father’s forgiving nature, was furious and wouldn’t go into the house, or join the party.
The older brother hadn’t “chosen such companions as were most agreeable to his vicious inclinations.” Nor had “he wallowed in unbounded riot and debauchery.” He had worked his ass off, no – more than that!
“I’ve slaved my ass off!” He thought. “Forgiveness!? My father forgives and restores my brother to the family? Now? After all this time?”
The older brother couldn’t jive with this. As far as he was concerned, time had run out on his young brother long ago.
Hell, as far as the older brother was concerned, the moment his younger brother rejected his father and their way of life, the moment he had turned his back on the family, he might as well have been eternally lost. As far as the older brother was concerned, unending darkness, gnashing of teeth, and a lake of fire, you know, forever, was better than his brother deserved.
Yeah, still working the satire.
The older brother was offended at the goodness of his father.
The older brother’s offense stemmed from his punitive-based theology regarding God… I mean, his father.
He had been building his entire future on a father who operated in the context of reward and punishment. The forgiveness and restoration of his brother revealed that his father’s nature was vastly different than he had believed. This completely blew up his whole paradigm. It shook him to his core. Apparently he had been keeping score in a game his father wasn’t playing.
“All the slaving I did was for nothing.” He thought bitterly, followed by, “I might as well have lived it up with a little unbounded riot and debauchery like my younger brother!” That last thought, it just pissed him off more and he doubled down. He was not going to join the party.
The older brother believed he had clearly earned where his younger brother hadn’t, and his father’s forgiveness just exposed his self-righteous earning belief system.
By the way, it’s not possible to believe in punishment without eventually having to wrestle with self-righteousness.
Sadly, the older brother’s belief in a reward/punishment based system – his theology – revealed that he was positioned directly against his father’s heart. The older brothers’ affections were ultimately exposed as being contrary to His father’s.
And by now you may be asking, “But Jason, what does this have to do with our thoughts on whether forgiveness and restoration might be available to us after we die?'”
I am not responsible for the nature of God. I am responsible for my affections.
When it comes to being a son or daughter in our Father’s house, we only have one option. It’s to celebrate the forgiving, redeeming nature of our Father. Always. And when I write “always,” I mean now and for all eternity. Anything else is sinking sand.
For the sake of our hearts, I think a really healthy position believers should probably have when it comes to our thoughts regarding whether redemption is available after this life is, “I don’t know, but I sure hope so.”
Anything less, and we are in danger of positioning our affections against God’s relentless love nature; a nature Jesus so clearly revealed on the cross.
I understand this article is strong. I understand the subject of hell is a sensitive one. I get the fact that many Christians believe that they have hell figured out. Many have interpreted the bible in a way to be convinced of their thoughts, and that’s cool. But this article isn’t about what happens to us after we die, it’s about our hearts being soft right now.
Because, while I have reasons I personally believe God is a relentless redeemer both in this life and the next, reasons connected to scripture, community, history, and experience, I don’t know what it looks like on the other side of this life. But the fact is, neither does anyone else.
What I do know is: I am not responsible for the nature of God, I am responsible for my affections. That’s what is within my control. And I can’t afford to lend my affections to the older brother, I can’t afford to determine who my Father can or can’t forgive.
If our hearts don’t truly desire to see all our brothers and sisters “in the party” in this life and the next, it’s past time to repent. If the idea of God redeeming us throughout eternity offends, it’s past time to repent. If we are bothered by the idea that His goodness is beyond our ability to understand, it’s past time to repent.
We may disagree, but let’s do so with great love, affection, and hope for all who are lost; let’s do so believing that our Father “is not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9)
Jesus said He did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them (Luke 9:56). So at the end of the day, when it comes to the question of whether repentance, redemption, restoration, and transformtation is available to all on the other side of this life, I believe “I don’t know, but I sure hope so” is in beautiful alignment with the heart of Christ.
And that’s why I would recommend this be every believer’s heart position regardless of our questions, thoughts, or even conclusions.
Because, at the end of the day, while we may not all be in agreement about what we think happens in the next life, we can all agree on this; our Father is hosting a party for His kids.
And we can also all agree that there’s only one place to be when our Father hosts a party.
And it’s not outside throwing a hissy.
Love ya!
Intimacy is Your Inheritance
I imagine that when the fellas who translated the Bible came to the story of the prodigal son, there was a debate on what to title it.
I imagine there was much prayer and dialogue that ran late into the night. Coffee was brewed, biscotti laid out, music heatedly discussed until they found consensus in Ray LaMontagne’s “Till the Sun Turns Black.” Finally, they came to an agreement. Then the archbishop/apostle/ leader guy stood, and, brushing the biscotti crumbs from his beard, he made his proclamation. Standing straight, shoulders back, chin up, and in a piercing nasal voice, he declared in high English, “Let this story heretofore be known as ‘The Prodigal Son.’”
“I am convinced that our true inheritance as believers has nothing to do with money, land, or possessions of any kind. It’s simply our Father’s love revealed.”
Yeah, I have no idea how it got its title, but if I’d been there we would have listened to Bon Iver. But more to the point, I would have argued ardently and well that the story be titled, “The Good Father.”
I am not saying they got it wrong, so please don’t go telling everyone that Ray LaMontagne was a bad choice or that I think the Bible is flawed. I’m just saying I think that title is a little misleading as the story isn’t fully about either of the sons but about the father.
The fact is that every story Jesus ever told was about a good father. Jesus’s very existence, every breath He took, revealed the good Father.
I am convinced that our true inheritance as believers has nothing to do with money, land, or possessions of any kind. It’s simply our Father’s love revealed.
“I believe that it was at this moment that the younger son first truly saw his father as his dad; it was the first time the son discovered his father’s true nature—love.”
The younger son came home ready to beg for a place with the servants. Before he could even get to the front door, his dad is running out to meet him. Before he could even begin to say what he had probably rehearsed the whole way home, his dad is hugging and kissing and overwhelming him with affection.
I believe that it was at this moment that the younger son first truly saw his father as his dad; it was the first time the son discovered his father’s true nature—love. And that is the moment he actually received his inheritance. Our inheritance is only available through a revelation of our Father’s true nature. And our inheritance looks like, feels like, and in fact is intimacy.
The Older Brother
You probably know about the prodigal son.
Jesus told the story, it’s found in Luke 15. It went something like this: There was a father. He had two sons. The youngest asked for his inheritance. The father gave him a very large sum of money and the younger son left home. He then spent all he possessed in every self-centered destructive way possible. After he was broke, destitute, and desperate, he came home and begged forgiveness of his father. He was wholly forgiven and restored. But the father had two sons…
Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came
“So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”
The father then says something profound and revealing.
“My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours” (Luke 15:25-31).
Essentially, “Son, why would you be out slaving for me, all I have and all I am is available to you, no slaving required. You have access to it simply because you are my son.”
“He was a slave for his father because He didn’t truly know his father’s heart toward him.”
The older son’s frustrated interaction with his dad reveals that, just like his younger brother, he didn’t truly know his father’s love nature. He “slaved” in a works-based understanding instead of co-laboring in a relational, intimate revelation of his dad’s love.
Because he didn’t truly know his dad’s heart, he couldn’t truly know who he was. Because he didn’t truly know who he was, he couldn’t understand nor join in his father’s celebration of his brothers return. He essentially said, “Why on earth are you celebrating my brother? What’s he done for you lately?”
What’s alarming to me, when our relational context with God is slaving, we will actually find ourselves outside of the very house we are meant to call our home; we will actually think at odds with how He thinks. When we don’t know Him as our good Father, when we aren’t sure as sons and daughters, we not only miss out on our inheritance, we actually find ourselves sided against Him.
When we slave, we are unable to celebrate mercy or grace in our own lives, let alone the lives of others. The scary thing about slaving, besides the fact that it sucks, is that it will actually position us against the very Father we think we serve.
“When we misunderstand God as someone to slave for, when we don’t know Him as a good father and ourselves as sons and daughters, we not only miss out on our inheritance, we actually find ourselves sided against Him.”
There are a lot of older brother rumblings coming from the church today—religious slaves seeking
I would guess much of the world sees the church as the older brother, slaving for a Father while wagging our finger in judgment and condemnation at a lost, lonely, broken, and confused world.
Here’s what I believe: the desire to judge and condemn a lost sinner or a fallen or even deceived saint, is not the heart of the Father—ever.
I was in a conversation with a friend the other day and essentially said just that. He challenged me with, “So are you saying we shouldn’t confront and expose lies and immorality?”
“Only if we can do it without taking our eyes off Dad (Love),”
I said. Jesus only did what He saw the Father doing.
It’s easy to become offended when you are not living in a daily revelation of love.
“Jesus didn’t come to defend a gospel; He came to reveal the perfection of our Father’s love.”
When we take our eyes off our Father and His perfect love for us, we forget why we are here. We become more interested in defending a set of principles than revealing love. Jesus didn’t come to defend a gospel; He came to reveal the perfection of our Father’s love. It’s religious vanity to think we are here to do anything different.
Jesus isn’t a principle, He is an intimate of
Sadly, much of the church is playing the part of the older brother and calling it Christianity. There are still so many who stand outside of intimacy defending their slave-based principles in direct defiance of their Father’s great love.
“If we don’t know our Dad and His always-good love, we are forced to live in the insecurity of slavery, under the weight of self-help Christianity, and we are compelled to defend a gospel.”
Allow me to repeat: Jesus wasn’t concerned with defending a gospel. He was too busy revealing the Gospel—His Father’s always-good love. He lived miraculously, died selflessly, and rose powerfully, all so we might be restored back to our place in the family—as sons and daughters of God. All so we might freely and fully access our inheritance— the love nature of our Father.
If we don’t know our Dad and His always-good love, we are forced to live in the insecurity of slavery, under the weight of self-help Christianity, and we are compelled to defend a gospel. If we reject the perfection of our Father’s love, then, like the older brother, we will find ourselves in direct opposition to our Dad.
And you know what direct opposition looks like? Judgment and condemnation. But not from our heavenly Father.
The father of the older brother?
He never condemned his son.
The son condemned himself. He was his own judge, a slave cut off from intimacy.
Father, forgive us for judging when we were created to be loved and to love.
More Than A Master
When he came to his senses, he said,
“How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.” (Luke 15:17-19)
You know, the younger son probably never truly knew how good and loving and redeeming his father was before leaving home, but he did know him as a good master.
That limited perspective was powerful enough to invite a despairing son back home after he had desperately failed.
“If our revelation of God as a good Master doesn’t mature into a revelation of God as a good Father, we may find ourselves living like a prodigal.”
My point? A good master can draw the prodigal home, but it’s the good father that empowers a son.
Jesus didn’t tell us this story so we could know the good Master; He was revealing the good Father to us. Why? Because a good Master can still be slaved for, and slavery is never our Father’s heart for us.
I think this is a big deal because most of us know God as a good Master and while that is true and brilliant, if our revelation of God as a good Master doesn’t mature into a revelation of God as a good Father, we may find ourselves living like a prodigal, enslaved either to the world or even religion. The truth that God is a good Master is a wonderful starting place but was never meant to be the final destination.
God has more names than there are ice cream flavors. He is the Creator, Shepherd, and Deliverer. He is Holy, Majestic, and Righteous. He is our Peace, Provider, Comforter, and Healer. He is Lord, King, Master, and Savior. The list goes on and on. And while Jesus certainly revealed all of these attributes, they weren’t His primary objective. He came for one reason: to reveal the Father.
“Jesus lived, breathed, laughed, talked, walked, slept… every movement, every story, and every word revealed the Father.”
Jesus said, “Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9). He also said, “I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by Himself; He can do only what He sees His Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does” (John 5:19).
Jesus lived, breathed, laughed, talked, walked, slept… every movement, every story, and every word revealed the Father. The story of the prodigal son was no different.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. Luke 15:21-24
The moment the younger son truly saw his father’s nature is the moment he received his inheritance. And it’s the same for us. The moment we truly see our Heavenly Father we are set free and empowered to be His sons and daughters, and that’s where our inheritance is accessed. Our Father’s perfect love nature revealed is our inheritance.
Jesus told us this story to reveal His Father—period! He told this story so that we might live beyond the title of “slave” and grow in the freedom, power, and authority of our true inheritance, as His sons and daughters.
The journey of knowing God as more than a good Master is filled with exponential life, exponential righteousness, peace, joy, trust, power, and authority. When we know the good Father, we live in the inheritance of sons and daughters, the measureless love of heaven.
Our Inheritance & The Ice Cream Sundae
Our Inheritance
I imagine that when the fella’s who translated the Bible came to the story of the Prodigal Son, there was a debate on what to title it. I imagine there was much prayer and dialogue that ran late into the night. Coffee was brewed, biscotti laid out, music heatedly discussed until they found consensus in Ray LaMontagne’s “Till the Sun Turns Black”. Finally, they came to an agreement. Then the archbishop/apostle/leader fella stood and brushing the biscotti crumbs from his beard he made his proclamation. Standing straight, shoulders back, chin up, and in a piercing nasal voice, he declared in high English, “Let this story here-to-fore be known as ‘The Prodigal Son.’”
Yeah, I have no idea how it got its title and its one of those things I’m not gonna Google for you. That way we can pretend there was magic bean juice and biscotti. That said, had I been at my imaginary debate, we would have listened to Bon Iver. But more to the point, I would have argued ardently and well that the story be titled, “The Good Father.”
I am not saying they got it wrong, so please don’t go telling everyone that Ray LaMontagne was a bad choice, or that I think the Bible is flawed. I’m just saying I think the title “The Prodigal Son” is a little misleading as the story isn’t fully about either of the sons, it’s about a good Father.
The fact is, every story Jesus ever told was about a good Father. Jesus very existence, every breath He took, revealed the good Father. So honestly, my title would have probably been righter… just saying.
But before we get absolutely lost in biscotti and magic bean juice, let me get to my point. It’s a good one! I believe that “The Prodigal Son” story was meant to reveal our heavenly Fathers always-good love as well as our unbelievable inheritance.
In fact, I am convinced that our true inheritance as believers has nothing to do with money, land, or possessions of any kind. It’s simply our Fathers love revealed.
The younger son came home ready to beg for a place with the servants. Before he could even get to the front door, his dad was running out to meet him. Before he could even begin to say what he had probably rehearsed the whole way home, his dad is hugging and kissing, and overwhelming him with affection.
I believe that it was at this moment that the younger son first truly saw his father as his dad, as love. And, in my opinion, the moment the younger son saw his father’s true nature is the moment he actually received his inheritance.
I would like to suggest that our inheritance is a revelation of our Fathers true nature – Love. In other words, our inheritance is intimacy…
The Ice Cream Sundae
“Hey, dude, there is something wrong with the ketchup. It tastes, different.”
They were my last table for the night. I had worked the lunch shift and the dinner. I was tired and ready to finish my side work and go home. I could see that the four college students – two girls and two guys – had poured the ketchup all over their cheese fries.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, as I stood at the edge of their table. “Let me get you some new fries and a new bottle of ketchup.” I started to pick up the plate of fries when one of the fella’s said. “Dude, you can try one and see what I mean.”
I didn’t want to try their french fries. “That’s alright,” I said. I will just get you some new fries. Then one of the girls said, “It might just be us. You don’t have to get us more. Try one.”
It was such an unusual request. It was also the end of a long day and a longer weekend. I was tired, I wasn’t on my game, I tried one. It tasted fine and I said so. But I let them know that I would go and order them some new cheese fries anyway.
After dropping off the new fries the bartender called me over. My table of four college students was directly across from the bar. The bartender, who had seen the whole thing said, “Dude, as soon as you walked away from the table, they started laughing and it was pretty clear that they put something disgusting in the ketchup you ate.”
I would like to tell you that I was very much like Jesus and that I graciously turned the other cheek, but that would be a lie. To be honest, I became dizzy with rage.
As I walked away from the bartender, I was furious at my own stupidity and at the fact that I was waiting on idiots. “What could it have been?” My mind was spinning and coming up with several disgusting options. The more I thought about it the angrier I became.
I spent the next ten minutes trying to think up ways to kill them without getting caught. At one point I was walking by and they called me over. They were all laughing and smirking and though I wanted to throttle them, I put on my nice waiter face and said, “What can I get for you?” They ended up ordering this particular restaurants version of an ice cream sundae.
As I walked away I admit it, I snapped. “These kids have to pay!”
Finding a rather private area next to the freezer, I fixed them a very special sundae. I thoroughly licked all four spoons and then, for good measure, I spit into the sundae before adding the whipped cream and cherry. I walked it out, dropped it off, and in my kindest and most sincere waiter voice, said, “Enjoy guys!”
A couple of minutes later I dropped off the check and saw that the sundae was gone and all four spoons appeared to have been used.
With a sickening smile and in my best Hannibal Lector voice, I asked, “Did you all enjoy the Sundae?
“Yeah it was fine,” one of the guys said, looking at me like I’d gone mad.
I continued. “Did you all have some?”
“I’m sorry?” said one of the girls.
I leaned in and earnestly asked, “Did everyone eat it?” this time there was no missing my perverse smirk.
“Yes.” She said, with a confused and slightly disturbed look on her face. The first hints of panic were showing on the faces of the others as well.
Then, one by one, I looked them in the eye. Finally, I grinned and said. “Gooooood.”
I walked away savoring the look of horror that had dawned in each of their eyes. The bartender nodded as I passed by.
Later, on the way home, when I was in my right mind, I wondered if I should have gone with Michael Corleone. I also realized that it might be time to get out of the table waiting game.
Now you may be asking yourself, what does this story have to do with our inheritance as sons and daughters of a good Father? Well, first I wanted to warn you not to play nasty tricks on the people who handle your food. But more importantly, I wanted to point out that what we believe determines how we live. What’s crazy is that we don’t even need to have all the facts. Our actions are determined by what we perceive to be the truth.
When it comes to God, I think it’s astounding how greatly our lives are determined by what we believe. If we believe our Father is love and His love is perfected in His goodness, then we will trust. We will live in the expectation of a fuller more powerful life. Our days will be marked by hope and joy, and peace, even when life is hard, sad, and violent. If we believe that His love settles every need and answers every question that aches in our hearts, then we will step out boldly and risk. Our lives will be marked by Love and the dangerous favor of God. We will be radical responders, living in a greater revelation of our Dads love.
That said, if we live unsure regarding our Fathers good love, then we’ll find ourselves living on defense; our days will be marked by fear. Trust, hope, and joy will be fleeting; they will become principles that are impossible to maintain. In the good days we will be anxious, always waiting for the “other shoe to drop.” We will try our hardest but we will live defensive and life will become a reaction to perceived attacks. And along the way, we may even spit in someone’s ice cream sundae…
Me and Keith Green
I was sitting Indian style in the living room on the carpet in front of one of the 3ft stereo speakers.
The song shivering down my spine. I was nine year’s old and I couldn’t rest. Like any artistic dreamer, I would immerse my soul into every nuance becoming one with melody, harmony, rhythm, and spirit. It was an obsession; often I would sit for hours. I wasn’t pretending to play the piano on the carpeted floor, I was playing the piano and it was beautiful. The stereo speaker I sat in front of wasn’t a speaker; it was the stage in front of a packed arena of worshipers. I played till my fingers bled. Well, maybe not until they bled. But I did play so long and with such enthusiasm that my mom would occasionally come into the room and move the speaker so the carpet would wear evenly.
It was a powerful melody that Keith Green and I played together. The song was a retelling of a story about a father with two sons. It can be found in Luke 15, but if you ever get the chance, you got to hear how Keith and I performed it. It was truly brilliant!
Have you ever heard the story?
A father has two sons. One day the younger son comes to dad and asks for his inheritance. Dad doesn’t balk; he simply gives his son some money. So the younger son goes out into the world were he foolishly spends his cash in every self-centered way conceivable. Eventually, he runs out. Around that time the country goes into depression and the only job he can find is feeding pigs.
Soon he realizes that the pigs are eating better than he is. That’s when he decides to go home, beg forgiveness, and ask his father for a place among the servants.
Here is how Keith put it.
The Son
“…I was near home, in sight of the house,
My father just stared, dropped open his mouth,
He ran up the road, and fell to my feet, and cried, and cried,
Father, I’ve sinned, Heaven ashamed,
I’m no longer worthy to wear your name,
I’ve learned that my home is right where you are,
Oh father, take me in.”
Then the story takes a stunning turn. Keith and I captured it sweetly, his fingers passionately pounding the keys of his grand piano as my equally impassioned fingers sunk deep into the carpet.
The Father
“Bring the best robe, put it on my son. Shoes for his feet, hurry put them on.
This is my son who I thought had died. Prepare a feast for my son’s alive!”
This is where Keith would go crazy on the piano. He would glance over at me and smile as I played my carpet symphony in unison with him. His fingers and mine perfectly synced as I lent my impassioned voice to his. We sang from the father’s perspective while the rest of the band joined us in bringing the song to a crescendo… the horns, the strings!
“My son was lost, oh thank you God he’s found. My son was dead and he’s now alive, Prepare a feast for my son’s alive!”
It was a sweeping masterpiece – both the story and Keith’s and my rendition. It was worship, pure and sweet.
After the last note had ceased to resonate in the cavity of my chest, Keith and I would head out and grab a hot chocolate. Keith would usually get a larger one and I would get marshmallows in mine. We were tired, but it was a good kind of tired. We had given our all and yet we knew that if asked, we still had more to give.
As I’ve grown, I have come to understand the story better. And I now have a deeper understanding of why Keith loved it as much as I did. Although he has since passed away, I often remember our times together in my living room. And I imagine he is cheering me on while patiently waiting for the moment we once again sing together the great stories of our Fathers love…
I think everyone loves the story; it’s so right. And it continues beautifully with a celebration feast – everyone joyful that the son has returned. I imagine there was food, and singing, and laughing, and dancing late into the night as mercy and grace are passed around like good wine…