It always looks different,
but The Giver is the same.
Luke 15:11-32
Do you ever wonder what became of Jimmy?
You might remember me from our family’s recent story in
“The Prodigal.”
My brother Johnny left the farm.
He ventured out into the city to follow some pipe dream. That’s not a big deal except that he left my dad and me in a bind.
I worked hard alongside my dad to keep the farm afloat. We almost lost it all.
After quite some time Johnny decided to come back home. Except it wasn’t his home if you asked me. He spent all his inheritance on foolish living and when he was spent, he graces us with his presence and expects life to go on as it was.
This is where my life story takes a turn! I want to call it a screech. A halt that caused my heart to change. Two brothers. He received grace and I went through a bitter decline visible to all. An imprint I wish were not true. Anger can do that.
Johnny came back and my dad welcomed him with open arms. Forgiveness was lavished on him. Parties, celebrations, and joy for a selfish boy who squandered his inheritance, my dad’s hard-earned money. A boy, a foolish man!
I’m not sure my life has been any better. I mean bitterness always brings friends. Deep within the crevices of my soul unforgiveness and bitterness danced until resentment was a way of life.
I swore I would never forgive my brother Johnny!
Life has been challenging. I’m still here with all the difficulties of living on the farm, the decline of the farm I mean. It’s hard to live with contentment when one’s heart is heavy with unforgiveness.
I’d be cordial with Johnny, but I never really extended him an olive leaf or anything like that.
It’s like living in the shadows of who I was or maybe could have become.
It’s been almost 10 years. There has been a moral decline in me. Oh, I didn’t hurt or kill anyone, but I do recognize that hate lives here, a resentment that won’t let me go even when slivers of light shine and allow glimpses and opportunities for my heart to be changed.
I’m in a downward spiral. Yes, this is where I live.
Granny that poor soul ravished with Dementia couldn’t remember my name at times. Interestingly, there were parts of her past she could recite without any hesitation. The glow on her face testified she trusted in her God. It was evident it comforted her heart. Not even Dementia could take that from her.
One late night, or rather I should say early in the morning, I was gathering some clover to bring to the pen and feed the animal. It was about 3 am and I was alone.
I couldn’t sleep that night, so I made my way to the barn to make myself useful.
I was startled when I saw the shadow. In the moonlight glow, I realized that the slow-moving figure was Granny. She’d often wander from her home and would be found strolling among the sheep.
I quickly had her sit, and I placed a blanket around her.
I told her it was me, Jimmy. With a grin, she said to me, “I know who you are.”
Granny began to ramble on about how life was short and some other stuff that wasn’t very clear. She spoke to me about Jesus. I just shook my head and agreed even if I did not understand all she was saying. I wanted to comfort her.
Granny was shivering even with the blanket.
Was she afraid? Was she cold?
She spoke again and told me that God loved me.
Loved me? I did not say it out loud. After all the battle was always in my mind.
Did God really love me?
It was so interesting how the conversation quickly took a turn.
There was a stillness in the air blanketed by the sounds of the farm.
All kinds of animals testifying they were alive.
There was a breeze coming through the slates of the barn walls.
For a moment I felt a shiver too.
It was like a visible hush. Granny looked straight at me and put her fragile hand on my knee.
She had my attention.
She said, “Jimmy, it's time.” I wondered what she meant.
Did she realize that she had been wondering and needed to go back to her home?
Was that her confusion talking?
I’d like to say I understood everything that happened that night but truly I can’t.
With her eyes fixed on me she said, “He loves you too.”
What did she mean? Was she referring to my dad?
Without saying a word, I just nodded.
My angry heart whispered, “I know my dad loves Johnny.”
My thoughts started to drift. A few days earlier I had found my dusty Bible in the recesses of my closet. I did dust it off but reading it, that would take a miracle! Resentment does that to you.
Yet of all the pages I could have come across, this I did read, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)
It was like a flashback. I was right there again.
My dad lavishly extending forgiveness to Johnny for all his foolishness.
I could see and sense my anger rise again.
I remembered the words I spewed at my dad that night, “I will hold Johnny accountable. But as far as forgiving him, he is dead to me!”
That quickly I began to sob uncontrollably. Why was I crying? I hadn’t done anything wrong.
My thoughts were interrupted when Granny said again, “Jimmy, it’s time.”
I yelled, “Time for what?”
She glanced over and began to stare off at the bricks of straw lined up by the barn wall.
There it was again. That stillness in the night that beckon my attention.
“Granny, are you ok?” I was so sorry I yelled at her.
She began humming and then she stopped.
It was a song that seemed familiar, but I could not quite remember it.
In the silence of that moment, something happened.
I began to pour out my heart to Granny. I knew my heart was safe with her.
She may not even remember what I was about to confess anyway.
I cried and told her how sorry I was for the hardness of my heart. My anger and resentment had taken full charge of me. I wanted freedom. I wanted joy, and to believe my father’s love for me was real. But I was gripped and bound. I could not get free.
Granny embraced me and allowed me to pour out my heart.
That night I surrendered my life and all my pain to God and asked him to forgive me.
Indeed, I felt the warmth of the Lord all around that barn.
There were parts of me being stripped away. Like weeds being pulled from the depths of my heart; something beautiful was happening to me!
She said it again, “It’s time Jimmy.” I tried to compose myself.
I dried the tears from my face.
I helped Granny up and I walked her home. I assured her family that she was ok.
The next evening, I got the call.
Granny had passed away.
Ten years of resentment building a kingdom within me. It grew. It expanded and it almost took me. I’m thankful for Granny’s life. Those few moments changed the course of my life.
I encountered grace.
Yes, the same grace that had received Johnny when he had come back home.
I’m grateful to the Lord. That night I became free.
Joy finally came and filled my heart.
I understood. I understood.
It’s the mercy of God.
Yes, the mercy of God that saved me that night.
This broken man encountered grace. No, I didn’t deserve it. I reckon neither did Johnny.
But God, who loves us has done this for us. Yes, God has done this for me.
This prodigal son has come home too.
God bless you!~Liz
