Well, it’s been quite the tiring week. This whole week was designed for planning out 10 day outreach. We’ve had workshops on things like leading adult meetings, youth work, preaching, and object evangelism. It’s been really helpful and so interesting to learn so many different ways of spreading the word of God to all kinds of people.
Because of all this stuff going on though, I’ve been so tired! I’m pretty sure I’ve taken a nap every day. It’s crazy how fast the days are going and the weeks as well. Soon it’ll be my birthday, then it’ll be 10 day outreach, then there will be 9 days and Tiffany is coming, and then 1 more day and this Capernwray experience will be over. I’m actually quite sorry that Tiff is coming at the time she is, because I’m not going to be any fun, I’m going to be crying all over the place. I’ve absolutely loved this experience and all the things I’ve learned and all the friendships I’ve made. It’s so sad to me that most of these people I’ve been living with for the past 6 months I’ll probably NEVER see again, this side of time at least.
I’ve been to 2 workshops, leading adult meetings and preaching. (Yeah, weird right?) For my preaching we have to come up with a creative introduction that will lead into a sermon on Luke 15. For mine I’ve written a little ditty, (I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, I think God is really instilling in my this gift,) and I thought I’d share it with you because other than that, I have nothing too exciting to share with you. So here it is, an intro to Luke 15.
I closed my eyes and turned the volume on my iPod up to drown out the sound of my dad’s tears as he paced back and forth on our balcony overlooking our Vineyard. “Get over it already!” I screamed in my head. “She’s gone! Just forget about her!”
I would never say that to his face of course. I loved my father and didn’t want to hurt him as much as she had. I always did what I was told, always followed his rules, never complained. I worked hard for my money, and I never once asked for more.
Her, on the other hand, never worked hard like me. In fact, she would often make me do the work for her as she sneaked out to whatever new and fun adventure she was going on. When Dad would have her work she would cry and complain that he didn’t love her until he would sigh and she’d kiss his cheek and leave. The morning she announced she was leaving I was coming to get Dad’s signature on a project. I stood at the door as I listened in horror as she said, “I want to experience life daddy! Give me my college savings and let me be who I am!”
I was silent as my dad slowly reached into his drawer and handed her the check with the amount of her college savings written in his bold, black ink. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.” He said in his calm and gentle voice. “You can’t hold me down! I’m going to live my life the way I want!” she yelled as she stomped out of the room. I quickly hid behind a curtain as she stormed out. I went back to the office, I did not want to see my dad’s face.
Months went by as I worked harder than ever before, trying to heal my father’s pain by my good works. I just wanted him to forget about her. What she did was unforgivable! Even as my Dad would receive word of all the things she was getting into, he continued to stand at the balcony, waiting for her to come home, his cell phone in hand, waiting for her call. The night we heard word of her getting into drugs, he continued to wait. The day we found out about the abortion she had, he continued to wait. Finally, the day we heard she was working in a prostitutes house, surely, surely he will not forgive her now, yet after his tears were dry and he had been on his knees in prayer, he stood up and continued to walk. Back and forth, his eyes stretched out, hopeful for her return.
2 years later, I was working hard again in the office, wanting to be the best daughter I could be, when I heard a noise. Music? In our house? There had been none of that for 3 years. Partying? Champagne? I could smell the BBQ and the smell of gramma’s baking. Foreign things, things my brain had not known for so long. I entered into the great room, to see all the staff, all my friends, all my dad’s friends, celebrating. Then, I saw her. She was sitting there, in a brand new dress from Burberry, one I had been saving up for months, smiling as people came and hugged and kissed her. My father, his hands on her shoulders, was absolutely beaming. The glass I had in my hand fell on the tiled floor and shattered, and all eyes were on me. “What is SHE doing here!” I seethed through my teeth. “Your sister has come home!” my dad rejoiced. “Be happy for her love, she was once dead, and now she’s alive!” I closed my eyes and then looked straight at her. “If only you knew, what this family has gone through, what our father has suffered, what I’ve done in order to help us forget your little stunt, if you knew, you would not of come back.” I ran out of the room as hot tears fell from my eyes.
How many of you feel as your life as a good Christian is not as special as those who’s stories are more exciting, more sinful? There’s a story of this in the Bible, a story of an older brother, who did everything right, but never felt recognized for being good. Turn with me to Luke chapter 15.
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