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Exchanged Glory IV: A Time for Every Purpose
In time, I realized I didn’t have to be like the older brother or the younger brother. I could be like the Father. I could love everyone – well behaved or disobedient.
In the months that followed, I found myself considering the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I had heard it more times than I could remember, but I had never before seen it from the perspective of the older brother. Like many Christians, I had judged this hardhearted young man for looking down on his younger sibling. How could he not have compassion on his flesh and blood who had lost everything?
The only person I had ever heard say anything sympathetic about the older brother was Dr. James Dobson.[62] He pointed out that prodigals tend to place stress on the whole family, causing everyone to suffer. This insight helped me to consider the part that family history might have played in the older brother’s reaction.
He had probably endured year’s worth of badgering from the mean kid who had somehow appeared from his mother’s womb. He hadn’t planned to dislike his brother. In fact, he had actually looked forward to spending time with him. Together they would discover life’s joys and adventures; they would explore the world and share its wonder.
Years of the younger brother’s self-serving lies and manipulation had slowly drained the older brother of such optimism. The demanding brat turned their house into a war zone, and when the older brother tried to protect himself by fighting back, he ended up sharing the blame. His parents had punished both of them together. It all seemed so unfair.
To make matters worse, the family standards that he, the good child, had painstakingly lived up to were eventually compromised for the bad child. His parents couldn’t bring themselves to constantly discipline the kid who couldn’t follow simple rules, so they eased up on their requirements.
Then one day something wonderful happened. The younger brother decided to take his inheritance and run. The heavens seemed to open! Angels began to sing! There was rejoicing as the worst source of annoyance in the older brother’s life disappeared in a single day. There might be some extra chores around the farm, but that was a small price to pay for freedom.
Unfortunately, a new problem showed up. Dad just wasn’t the same anymore. He couldn’t laugh like he once had. He even spent time looking down the road to see if his wayward son was coming back. How stupid was that!? It all became yet another reason to resent the little fool. He had been a thorn in everyone’s side for years, and even in his absence he continued to drain joy from the family.
But the ultimate insult was yet to come. Just when it seemed like life might return to normal, the younger brother returned home after losing everything …and dad treated him like a king! He invited his friends over for a banquet! …And the money spent on the banquet had come from the older brother’s inheritance – the inheritance he hadn’t grabbed and wasted (like his younger brother) but had dutifully left under his father’s care.
No amount of indignation could possibly express how wrong this was. The balance of justice in the universe had been thrown to the wind. How could dad disregard everyone’s feelings and reward the one person in the world he should have punished!?
The father and the older brother were worlds apart. The father had feared the day his younger son would get what he deserved; the older brother had looked forward to it. If he had known about his brother’s “pig pen” experience, he might have paid to see it. He could have brought his friends with him to enjoy the sight. Maybe they could have bought his brother some of that pig food he wanted so badly; it would be a fun way to show some mock pity.
I felt like the older brother. When it came to the people who were influencing my children, I looked forward to their coming “pig pen experiences” …their addictions, mental illnesses, and whatever other plagues fell on them – including hell.
As I considered this, I for the first time realized that I never had been, and probably never would be, much of a prodigal. This conclusion surprised me. I had been influenced by what I call “prodigal self-righteousness,” where Christians do everything in their power to avoid looking like stuffy self-righteous hypocrites.
My heart had tried to identify with the prodigal son ever since I had first heard his story, but I now had to be honest. I had given my life to Jesus the first time I heard about Him. I had turned from partying and pursuing my own plans fairly quickly after that. Though I had been a sex addict, it had in many ways been forced on me. Even on my worst days, I never willfully sought out pornography; a unique fetish brought it to me. This isn’t to say that I didn’t commit more than enough sins to need God’s grace. It’s just that I didn’t have the rebellious spirit of a full-blown prodigal.
These thoughts placed me in unfamiliar territory. I had heard many sermons telling prodigals about God’s care and plan for them. I don’t think I had heard one offering similar hope to older brothers. They were the self-imposed outcasts from God’s mercy.
Fortunately, the story of the prodigal son gave me the answers I needed. The father left everyone at the party to reach out to his older son. He wouldn’t give up on him any more than he would his rebellious son. I realized that God had no intention of neglecting my needs so that He could pay attention to those who appeared to be more desperate. He didn’t view me as a “mercy-reject,” and He was more than willing to patiently help me to overcome my judgmental attitudes.
Seeing my Father’s care for me made me secure enough to try to learn about prodigals. I knew that He loved them, and I wanted to do the same. I asked my friends who had been rebellious while growing up what they had been thinking. I knew I might never be able to relate to their story, but I wanted to try to understand.
Some of them told me that they needed to feel years of love before they were ready for truth and hard-hitting discipline. That sounded terribly inefficient to me. (Why not just accept by faith that God loves you and start with truth and discipline right away? It might help you to avoid lots of problems.) My personality couldn’t relate, but I did my best to get beyond myself so I could see how their perspective made sense emotionally.
In time, I realized I didn’t have to be like the older brother or the younger brother. I could be like the Father. I could love everyone – well behaved or disobedient. My experience didn’t have to limit me. The Lord would equip me to minister both to non-prodigals and prodigals.
With non-prodigals, I could help them deal with the struggle created by years of denying yourself. I knew from experience the emotional stresses that push people toward unforgiveness. It is hard, after going through the pain of giving up your own sin, to have your blessings marred by those who aren’t even trying. This is especially true when they are hurting your family. We tend to become angry when we see those we love being injured.
On the other hand, I could learn to see prodigals as I would one of my children. I knew that this was how my Father in heaven saw them, and He became my point of contact for loving them. I was experiencing the pain that comes when children waste their inheritance. I sensed God affirming that He felt the same sort of pain.
My desire was to become like both the Father and the ultimate submissive older brother in our family of faith, Jesus. Though He had never rebelled, He loved rebels. His Spirit was birthing this same love within me.
When I finally forgave the people who were influencing my children, it felt like the first time I had forgiven anyone. I had almost always minimized any wrong done to me. I tried to make forgiveness easy by refusing to accept that I had been hurt. I looked at the sins of others and said, “They aren’t a problem for me.”
Surprisingly, this approach had played a large part in the development of my smoking fetish. As a child, I had a conflict with my parents over my mother’s smoking, and I disliked the anger it stirred within me. My reaction to this one conflict sent me into a two-year emotional slide that was extremely painful for me. I wanted it to end, so although I saw my mother’s choice to smoke as a weakness when I needed her to be strong and my father’s encouragement of her in that as incomprehensible selfishness, I looked for some way to make peace.
The smoking fetish gave me what seemed like a solution. It replaced anger with a delightful love of pleasure. This made me feel like I could join the smoke-filled world around me, and since I had now embraced the sin that had so offended me, there was no reason to judge my parents. I felt reconciled to them.
The fetish sprang from a permissive-love-based belief system that turned loving people into a matter of giving them permission to do what made them happy. As long as they weren’t directly hurting others, there was no need to find fault. In a sense, the fetish was a celebration of this emotional stance within me. It erased judgmental feelings and made me feel at peace with the world.
When I gave up the fetish in obedience to God, the “peace” left with it. I struggled to find a substitute that would deal with the anger I felt against those who hurt others.
On the night of my anguished prayer, I finally discovered what my emotions had been shouting at me for years: I had good reasons to be angry. Sin, even fun sin, was hurting people terribly. God was right to judge those who turned from His loving ways, and I was right to agree with Him. I couldn’t just wave my hand and say, “All is well.” I was created to feel the sting of disobedience in the world, and I had to learn how to handle the feelings this stirred within me.
This was a huge step for me. I was starting to face the unresolved emotions that the smoking fetish had buried beneath the surface. My parents had, in some ways, been prodigals, and their choices had set in motion an inner turmoil that had fueled my addictive temptations for over thirty years. I was now learning what to do with that turmoil; I had to express it to God so He could teach me how to handle it.
I had tried to do that when I was younger, but I didn’t know how to reconcile the anger I felt with the forgiveness I expected my faith to produce.
For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
The thought of not being forgiven had so frightened me that I ran from my anger. Almost before someone had sinned against me, I was jumping all over my inner man saying, “It’s not that bad! Don’t blame them; just love. Forgive! Forgive! Forgive!”
I was trying to replace the anger-relieving effects of the smoking fetish with forced forgiveness, and it wasn’t working. I was abusing my emotions, not letting them feel what they rightfully should. I wasn’t forgiving; I was suppressing and disconnecting. Not surprisingly, my heart rebelled against my mistreatment by creating a buried rage that threatened to destroy me.
God was now teaching me how to change that. It started by recognizing that there was a time to hate.
A right time to love and another to hate …
(Ecclesiastes 3:8, The Message)
My hatred was a natural reaction to seeing the destruction brought by sin. Though I expressed it imperfectly, it sprang from the fact that I was created in the image of God, Who also hates.
…You hate all workers of iniquity.
This doesn’t mean that God only hates. His love for people is greater than His hatred.[63] In fact, the Bible says that when He is angry, He is conflicted. He would much rather pour out His goodness than His wrath.
Tell them, “As sure as I am the living God, I take no pleasure from the death of the wicked. I want the wicked to change their ways and live. Turn your life around! Reverse your evil ways! Why die, Israel?”
(Ezekiel 33:11, The Message)
There is a balance in God. He is able to feel wrath without losing His love for His prodigal children. By His grace, we can do the same. There is a right time to love and another to hate (Ecclesiastes 3:8).
My heart was gaining wisdom about my emotions. In time, I discovered what it really means to show mercy and forgive. It starts with recognizing the destructive force of sin in people’s lives. It continues by feeling the pain that results and seeing why God has good reason to judge those who won’t follow Him. From there it sees that in spite of this, He longs to welcome them back. They have no hope without His mercy, and He truly cares about them.
Mercy and forgiveness are joining our Father by allowing His desire to see people restored rise above any desire to see them judged. It is eagerly stepping to His side as we wait by the road for His lost prodigals to come home.
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