A Parable in Parts

This is a parable I encountered many years (and re-encountered a few months ago). I find that it's very thought-provoking, so I invite you to read along with each part of the story. I'll be posting the next part of the story daily until it's done. Some of the blogs I read are interactive and invite others to post, so I wanted to do the same. Please feel welcome to comment on the story as it unfolds. 

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Once there were five sons who lived in a mountain castle with their father. The eldest was an obedient son, but his four younger brothers were rebellious. Their father had warned them of the river, but they had not listened. He had begged them to stay clear of the bank lest they be swept downstream, but the river's lure was too strong.

Each day the four rebellious brothers ventured closer and closer until one son dared to reach in and feel the waters. "Hold my hand so I won't fall in," he said, and his brothers did. But when he touched the water, the cur rent yanked him and the other three into the rapids and rolled them down the river.

Over rocks they bounced, through the channels they roared, on the swells they rode. Their cries for help were lost in the rage of the river. Though they fought to gain their balance, they were powerless against the strength of the current After hours of struggle, they surrendered to the pull of the river The waters finally dumped them on the bank in a strange land, in distant country, in a barren place.

Savage people dwelt in the land. It was not safe like their home. Cold winds chilled the land. It was not warm like their home. Rugged mountains marked the land. It was not inviting like their home.

Though they did not know where they were, of one fact they were sure: they were not intended for this place. For a long time the four young sons lay on the bank, stunned at their fall and nor knowing where to turn. After some time they gathered their courage and reentered the waters, hoping to walk upstream. But the current was too strong. They attempted to walk along the river's edge, but the terrain was too steep. They considered climb ing the mountains, but the peaks were too high. Besides, they didn't know the way.

Finally, they built a fire and sat down. "We shouldn't have dis obeyed our father," they admitted. "We are a long way from home." With the passage of time the sons learned to survive in the strange land. They found nuts for food and killed animals for skins. They determined not to forget their homeland nor abandon hopes of returning. Each day they set about the task of finding food and build ing shelter. Each evening they built a fire and told stories of their father and older brother. All four sons longed to see them again.

Then, one night, one brother failed to come to the fire. The others found him the next morning in the valley with the savages. He was building a hut of grass and mud. "I've grown tired of our talks," he told them. "What good does it do to remember? Besides, this land isn't so bad. I will build a great house and settle here."

"But it isn't home," they objected.

"No, but it is if you don't think of the real one." 

"But what of Father?"

"What of him? He isn't here. He isn't near. Am I to spend forever awaiting his arrival? I'm making new friends; I'm learning new ways. If he comes, he comes, but I'm not holding my breath."

And so the other three left their hut-building brother and walked away. They continued to meet around the fire, speaking of home and dreaming of their return.

Some days later a second brother failed to appear at the campfire. The next morning his siblings found him on a hillside staring at the hut of his brother.

"How disgusting," he told them as they approached. "Our brother is an utter failure. An insult to our family name. Can you imagine a more despicable deed? Building a hut and forgetting our father?"

"What he's doing is wrong," agreed the youngest, "but what we did was wrong as well. We disobeyed. We touched the river. We ignored our father's warnings."

"Well, we may have made a mistake or two, but compared to the sleaze in the hut, we are saints. Father will dismiss our sin and pun ish him."

"Come," urged his two brothers, "return to the fire with us." 

"No, I think I'll keep an eye on our brother. Someone needs to keep a record of his wrongs to show Father."

And so the two returned, leaving one brother building and the other judging.

The remaining two sons stayed near the fire, encouraging each other and speaking of home. Then one morning the youngest son awoke to find he was alone. He searched for his brother and found him near the river, stacking rocks.

"It's no use," the rock-stacking brother explained as he worked.

"Father won't come for me. I must go to him. I offended him. I insulted him. I failed him. There is only one option. I will build a path back up the river and walk into our father's presence. Rock upon rock I will stack until I have enough rocks to travel upstream to the castle. When he sees how hard I have worked and how dili gent I have been, he will have no choice but to open the door and let me into his house."

The last brother did not know what to say. He returned to sit by the fire, alone. One morning he heard a familiar voice behind him.

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Tomorrow I'll post part two. I could post more, but I think it's more meaningful to break it up into parts, so be prepared for this to take a few days. Until then, I wonder if I'm the only one who thinks I have something in common with each of these men. 

I know where the first brother is coming from. I am easily intrigued by the world around me. I take great comfort in friends and let them take God's place too frequently. This world can be an enticing place to make a home in, and I know there are many times where I trade in a gold crown for a tin cup, just as this brother did. 

And the second brother has my number, too. It doesn't take much for me to look at the world around me and see how other people can be doing better. That's pretty ugly behavior. 

But I'm most like the third brother. Man, I feel like he and I are the same person! Now, I get that salvation is by faith, not by works. And thank God that's true. However, that doesn't stop my behavior and my skeptical heart from believing all-too-often that I'm too bad for God to love. I know there's grace, but I also know I abuse grace. Not always intentionally, of course, but does that matter? The line, "Father won't come for me" really resonates with me. In my case, it's not about God's inability to come for me. It's about whether or not He'd want to. Does God love me enough to save me - in spite of me? Will He still be glad He did the longer I say I'll follow Him but end up failing Him instead? I see how horrible my sin is, and although He's sovereign, sometimes I wonder if He knows what He got himself into.

Stay tuned to see what the parable says about that.