We have all heard the story of the Prodigal Son. The one who left home, squandered everything, and came back smelling of pigs and regret. And we love the part where the father runs out to meet him, hugs him, puts a ring on his finger and throws a grand feast. What a moment of grace. But then, just outside the glow of the celebration, someone is fuming. The elder brother. The faithful, obedient, rule-following son who cannot believe that his wild sibling is being rewarded.

And what strikes me most is that the Bible never says the elder brother ever changed his mind. He stood there sulking, and perhaps, stayed outside the house. Which makes me wonder, how many of us are standing outside the party today? How many of us look at the prodigals who walk into our churches, our families, our offices, and cross our arms, saying, “Let us see how long this change lasts.”

We smile, but we never forget. We remember their failures, their weaknesses, their scandals. We say, “Yes, yes, God forgives, but we should be careful.” We talk about grace but we build fences around it, as if heaven were a private club where only the well-behaved get membership.

I sometimes think that if the elder brother had continued his angry tirade, the father might have had to send him away instead. Because the father’s joy was not in perfection but in restoration. It was not about who never sinned but about who found their way back. That is the very heartbeat of God’s love.

But oh, how we forget. We become the gatekeepers of goodness. We appoint ourselves judges and juries of other people’s pasts. We quote verses to remind them of their mistakes. We whisper when they walk in, raise eyebrows when they serve tea, and pull strings so that they never get a position in the church committee. We make sure their repentance is always under our watchful eye, as if they have to earn our forgiveness instead of God’s.

And then we wonder why some prodigals go back to the far country. Maybe it is not because they missed the sinful life, but because they did not find love in the so-called holy life. Maybe it was easier to be among pigs than among pious people who never forgot to remind them that they were once prodigals.

If we could only see what the father saw, that joy of a lost one found, that relief of a broken one restored. Maybe then, when we reach those pearly gates, we would be surprised to see the prodigal son or daughter standing inside, shining with grace, while we stand outside, still counting rules and rehearsing grievances.

So next time you see a prodigal return, put away your judgment, open your arms, and join the feast. Because the father is watching, and the party is not complete till both sons are home…!

————————————————–

Would love to hear from you in the COMMENTS section below…and IF YOU WANT TO RECEIVE BOB’S BANTER EVERYDAY, PLEASE SEND YOUR NAME AND WHATSAPP PHONE NO TO [email protected]
————————————————–