I’ve been thinking a lot about the prodigal son this week. Probably due to it being the lesson this week for the Bible study I am leading, but even more so because we have been living it out in our home. It’s part of why I have been quiet here in this space.Several months ago our oldest son sat us down and told us that he didn’t believe in God anymore. That he never really did and isn’t saved. This came out of the mouth of the boy who brought his Bible to school for years, who earned the nickname “preacher” for telling others about Jesus, who talked about being a youth pastor. I think it might be the first time I was at a loss for words in conversation with one of my kids. He told us that he believes the Bible is just a collection of stories and more about why he came to this decision. In my head I just kept saying to myself, “Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. He will stop talking if you freak out.” So I listened.
My only response that night was to tell him that I love him.
He went to bed soon after.
D and I were in shock.
We talked and prayed late into the night knowing that we had begun to fight for the heart of our son in a way that we hadn’t expected. It has been tough with him these past months. I would swear to you at times that a “pod person” (Invasion of the Body Snatchers reference) has replaced the son I know. He has been angry and hurtful. I have shed many tears and hit my knees often.
I want to be a good prodigal parent. One that loves him enough to let him go and also enough to be there to welcome him home again.
More than anything I want him to know that I will always fight for his heart.
Always. No. Matter. What.
With open arms either way.