The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him – Luke 15:28

I thought I was better than my younger brother. I always saw him as rebellious, proud, flirtatious and never serious. He gravitated to the world. He surrounded himself with friends of character. Women were his Achilles Heel. Where did he get that from? Dad is not like that; neither is mom. He may have dropped out of space; for he looked nothing like any of us. Of course, I was different – certainly not like him. Everybody said I was the exact replica of dad, his favorite who did everything to please him.

Contrary to my brother, I knew the essence of hard work and integrity; so I always strived to make the mark, and dad appreciated it.

I will never forget the day my brother asked Dad for his share of the family estate. What nerve! His request revealed his heart about poor Dad. “I wish you were dead.” Boy, I hated him for it. If ever I yearned to kill somebody, it was that day. But I looked at Dad and saw love embracing disappointment and sorrow in his face. I saw his pain; yet, I saw how much he loved darling brother. How could I multiply his anguish?

Imagine my joy when my brother packed his things and left home. I danced liked never before. “Adios, Amigo!” Our home smelled nice again; for the reeking stench of my brother was no more. The family dignity was restored.

But Dad! What is wrong with him? I thought he would be happy he was gone – relieved of the pain he caused him. Rather, I saw somebody whose heart had been torn apart and thrown into the ocean. Now, I was confused. Who did I loathe the most – darling boy or Dad?

Then the report came in. Darling brother had become utterly obscene, indulging in revelry, and prostituting himself with wild women.

“I knew it,” I said to Dad. That son of yours was never going to be anything, but a Casanova!”

The look in Dad’s face said it all; and I ran out of the house, perplexed.

How bad could things become for my selfish brother? How low could he fall? In a farm, tending pigs? How could a Jewish young man defile himself that way? But that’s his reward for his rebellion, and he asked for it. Everybody deserves what they ask for.

So, what’s all the gaiety coming from my house? I ask and a servant tells me it’s a party for my darling kid brother. He’s back, and it’s Dad’s welcome party.

Somebody tell me it’s a dream. How could Papa do that? After all this good-for-nothing son of his has done to him? Where is my recognition? Where is my reward for obedience? After all these years of slaving for him, he’s not given even a young goat to enjoy with my friends. That’s it. I am not going home again. I’m hard working, and I can make a life for myself somewhere.

There he comes, daddy big heart!  Tell me Dad. How could you do that to me? Did he not leave with his portion of the estate? What part does he have in it anymore to be enjoying it?

Remember, son, “We had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found” (Luke 15:32).

Those words pierced my heart like an arrow, and I am ashamed of myself. My brother was dead, and I rejoiced. He was lost and I could care less. But now he is back and I can’t rejoice for him or with poor dad for a second. Where is the love I’ve always professed for my father? Where is my heart?

By the way, who is the real prodigal here? We both left, but at different times and for different distances. He broke Dad’s heart, and I am being worse. I see my pretension, selfishness, greed, jealousy, and hypocrisy; and I am ashamed of myself.

I will embrace Dad and join in the celebration for my brother. Both of us were dead, and are alive again. We were both lost, and are found.

Thank you Dad, for helping me to find my heart this way! I love you, Abba, Father, in Jesus’ name. Amen.