Rob Parsons (11:03)
I just want to share briefly with you those final two points that God laid on my heart. Number one was we have made prodigals of someone we never were. Secondly, lay down the guilt. And thirdly, and I have to say I believe this is at the heart of it, when the father's house is filled with the father's love, the prodigals will come home. But fourthly, when they do come home, pray with all your heart. They meet the father before they meet the elder brother. The religious leader said, why do you eat with sinners? And he told them three stories. He told them the story of a sheep that was lost away from home. And then he told them the story of a coin that was lost at home. And finally he told them story of two boys, and one was lost away from home and one was lost at home. I remember a theologian saying to me years ago, the kiss of the father was an incredible kiss. I say, why? So he said, well, but the boy would have still been smelling of the pigsty. This father did not say, go home, have a wash. This is a Jewish father embracing the boy smelling of the pigsty. The father will be patient. The elder brother will want it all sorted out immediately. The elder brother will say, can I smell alcohol in your breath? Are you still doing this? Are you still doing that? But the father will be patient. The father will know this is going to take a little time. I think of a boy who said to his dad, dad, I am back both to you and to God, but be patient with me. This may take A little time. The power of the father and the spirit of the elder brother. The church I mentioned to you some time ago that began at 300 and grew to 10,000. The vicar told me that one of his members had a hairdressing salon and a young stripper from a local strip club. She was only 25 years of age, used to come have her hair done there. And one day she said to him, why don't you try and sleep with me like all the other men do? He said, I have different values. She said, I'll bet you go to church, don't you? He said, I do. I'd like to come to your church. He said, but I didn't want to bring her to our church. We were a happy, respectable little family. Church, he said, I didn't want to bring her to our church. And I knew what she'd wear if she came. And she did. When she came, she came straight from the club. The pastor told me. He said, when she walked down the aisle, I saw women putting their hands over their husband's eyes. Again, she sat in the front row. After 10 minutes, she turned to the man who bought her and said, did you tell the preacher about me? No, I didn't tell him about you. He knows all about me. He knows everything about my life. She gave her life to Christ. That night they gave her a Bible. That was the Sunday. On the Wednesday, she rang the pastor. Pastor, it's Nicky, Nicky the stripper. Oh, the stripper. He said, I got my wife on the other extension, Pastor, thank you for the Bible. Pastor, do you read the Bible? Yes, Nikki, I read the Bible. Pastor, have you read the Corinthian book? Yes, Nicky, I've read the Corinthian book. Pastor, have you read the part where it says our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit? Yes, Nicky, I've read that. Well, Pastor, if that's true, I can't go on stripping. Pastor, have you read the Matthew book? Yes, Nikki, I've read the Matthew book. Pastor, have you read the bit where it says that God looks after the birds of the air and the grass of the field? I think if that's true, if I give up strip and he'll give me enough to wear and to eat, I'll be okay. She walked into the club on the Friday. She said, I'm not going to do this anymore. When she got baptized six weeks later, five other strippers and four doormen came to church. They didn't come to church because they wanted to. They came for Nicky's sake. And they came in the clothes they wore in the club. The pastor said, this time I saw women putting black plastic bags over their husband's heads. Several of those women and those men came to Christ that night. On the Monday morning, there was a knock on the pastor's door. There was an older woman from church. Pastor, she said, you have ruined this church. You have ruined this church, bringing these people in. We want a little happy, respectable church. What's this gonna say to the young people? You have ruined this church. If she'd said it to me, I think I'd have got on my high horse about Jesus eating with sinners. But he was brighter than me. He said, I know I've ruined your church. What are we gonna do about it? Will you help me mentor some of these young women? And he said, it was as if heaven itself held its breath waiting for her answer. He said, finally, she knelt forward. She tapped me on the knee and said, well, Pastor, we're just going to have to love them. My hat goes off to that woman because, of course, it was hard for her. And she may have had the spirit of the elder brother or elder sister, but something went on in that woman's heart, changed her. My heart goes out to her. Ladies and gentlemen, when they come home, pray with all your heart. They meet the father before they meet the elder brother. And finally, prayer. Those of us who pray for prodigals have a great advantage. We have broken hearts. We know no book or seminar is going to bring our prodigals home. We are thrown on God. God likes us to pray like that, you know? Ladies and gentlemen, wherever we go with a full program, my wife Diane always comes and she asks people to stand and pray with her for the children, for their own children, or if they don't have children, for children that matter to them and the university students in their city. And then for the children of the nation. And if she were here now, she would ask you to stand and pray for the children of your nation. She'd pray for them when they're still in the womb, pray for them about the partners they may meet. Pray for them. And then she would encourage you to pray with each other. If you're single parent, mom or dad, find someone you can pray with for your children. And then she would say this. If you are a married couple, pray together for your children. Then she would say this. It is staggering how many married couples do not pray together. Ladies and gentlemen, pray together. Pray together. I know it's hard. I know it can be embarrassing. But Begin this very day. Even if going home in the car, you say, you know, darling, we could meet tonight and we'll just say the Lord's Prayer together. And then when you finish saying that lovely prayer, for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, just for 10 seconds, Lord. Bless Peter, wherever he is. Bless Susan, wherever he is. Pray for your kids. If any of you are pregnant now, pray for the child in the womb. And if you have children and they're doing well in the faith, pray for them to hold on. Don't take anything for granted. Anything can happen to anybody. I'll never forget being in New York subway, and we've all got our noses in our newspapers and a young homeless man comes on pitching for money, and we all sink our heads in, in the sports page and then he shouts out, ladies and gentlemen, I haven't always been like this. And you should all know that anything can happen to anybody. And now we lift our heads because now we know there's a philosopher on the train, and he's right. Anything can happen to anybody. Pray for your kids. Keep on praying. It's not only our only hope, it's our last hope. I can't promise you your prodigals will come home, but I can tell you this. God loves them more than you. He knows where they are and only he can bring them home. Whenever I think about this issue, I think about the way Jensi tells it. Not a story of a prodigal son, but a prodigal daughter. She has a row with her father about the length of a skirt or the pin in her nose or the color of her hair, and she walks out of their home in little Traverse City and she goes to the place she knows her father will never find, a big Detroit city. The second she gets off the Greyhound bus, there's a businessman waiting to meet her. He puts her in a penthouse of a hotel. Men pay big money for this young girl, and for two years she lives like a queen. Then the drugs get to her and she's ill and he takes her out of the penthouse and she's sleeping in the shop doorway and she's got newspaper around and cardboard underneath her and a hacking cough and her mind goes back to home. She remembers apple blossom in spring. She remembers a brown Labrador dog bouncing through the garden towards her. And she thinks, I want to go home. And she phones her mom and dad and she gets the answer phone and she says, mom, Dad, I want to come home. My bus gets into Traverse City at midnight. If there's nobody to meet me. I'll understand. I'll get straight back on the bus. I'll stay on the bus all the way to Canada. It's a long way from Detroit City to Traverse City. It gets dark, starts to snow, and she falls asleep. Then there's a hiss of brakes and she hears the bus driver say, traverse City, folks, we're just here for 15 minutes. And she thinks, 15 minutes to decide my life. She gets the lipstick from her teeth. She tries to rub the nicotine off her fingers. She straightens her blouse. She wonders if there'll be anybody to meet her. Nothing she ever imagined or dreamt of got her ready for the sight she saw that night when she entered the little bus station in Traverse City. 30, 40 people with party hats on and banners that said, welcome home, darling. Uncles and aunties and a grandmother and a great grandmother to boot. And there's a mother, and here's her father walking towards her with tears streaming down his face, and she says, daddy, I am so sorry. Hush, child, we don't have time for that. We're going to be late for the party. It's an incredible story. Just after I wrote the book a woman wrote to me. I don't know if she was the kind of woman who wrote this letter to her daughter. You might be surprised to hear from me. It is sometime since we spoke and even longer since we were together, but I have rewound and reworded our last conversation and relived our last meeting many times in my heart and imagination, words passed between us that were best left unsaid. But not all memories are painful. I often wind the tape back further, like a video film, and watch you as a child clambering on a rocky beach or running with an excited smile to show me the I can still feel your hand in mine as you urge me to hurry along a windy street or help me back because you wanted to watch a tiny insect or an even slower caterpillar. I remember you as you grew, the challenges you faced and the friends you made, the pride I felt. And then I wonder when things started to go wrong, when we stopped talking and started shouting, when even the shouting gave way to silence, the silence to absence. You have walked a path in these last days I would not have chosen for you. But as you often have said, it is your life and you must choose for yourself. And I have accepted those choices, however different they may be from my own. I want you to know, though, that my love for you is greater than those differences, that despite all that has built a barrier between us. The love I have for you is strong enough to move it, even piece by piece, and however long it takes. Both of us need the forgiveness of the other. We need to hear words we've longed for. I believe it is never too late. You may choose to ignore these words. They may make you angry, rekindling memories you thought you had long forgotten. I understand that. But as your mother, I can do nothing but go on loving you, go on asking for your forgiveness and offering mine to you. No matter what has happened in the past and whatever is going on in your life right now, I love you. I am here for you and you can always come home. Let me end with this woman wrote to me. She said, when my daughter left at 18, both away from us and God, we didn't see her for six years. We didn't know whether she was alive or dead. And as my husband and I put the lights out at night, I would say, darling, leave a porch light on. I always left the light on. And she said, at Christmas I used to put a little Christmas tree outside, as we used to when she was a little girl. And when my daughter came home, both wonderfully to us and to God, she said, mom, I was too ashamed to come home. But some nights in the early hours of the morning, one or two o' clock in the morning, I would come into our street and I would sit in my car in the darkness and every house would be dark apart from our house. You always left a lighter. And some nights I would look at the little Christmas tree you put there and I knew it was for me. Ladies and gentlemen, don't ever give up hope. Always keep on praying and always leave a light on. May God bless you.