Some of you might like parables. They teach in a way that most understand the meaning, can identify with man, and every time you read one, you learn something new. How about the Good Samaritan, the Mustard Seed and the Lost Sheep? My favorite is The Prodigal Son. I used that one in my dissertation, but got some negative feedback from one of my advisors who argued that the father in the story was not God.

"How can you write such stuff? No one would ever want to leave the presence of God. Rewrite your stuff here, correct this mistake, send it back to me and I'll approve your work."

I said, "Okay," but I didn't change anything — not a word — and he must not have reread my papers. Well, life's too short and I'd been working on this requirement for nearly three years. I passed.

Allow me to give you a short version of this wonderful parable.

The father had two boys. One was a worker, dependable, obedient, and the pride of the family. The younger son was a dreamer who spent most of his time fussing about too much labor, no fun and the same old job with no future and no pats on the back. One day, he found the courage to talk to his dad. "Dad, I don't want to live here. I want to see the world. Let me have whatever you have set aside for my old age because I'll need some running money."

His father does not try to discourage the boy, give him advice or even say goodbye. We all know — or at least believe we know — that the father must have felt heart-broken.

What happens? This young man must have had his mouth open when he saw some great city with the nightlife, partying and things going on that we can't put in print.

At first, he made lots of friends, did everything he wanted to do, and soon, when he ran out of money, lost lots of friends, found himself hungry, filthy and lonely. (I'm taking some liberties here.) One day, he found himself digging through garbage for scraps of food and this thought came to him. "How many of my father's hired servants have bread enough and even leftovers, while I perish here with hunger? Maybe, my dad will take me back. I'll go back and say that I have sinned against you, am not fit to call myself your son, but at least can I work for you."

When his father saw and recognized this famished, dirty and unworthy boy coming home, he ran and kissed him, hugged him, laughed, cried and laughed again.

The father turned and yelled so all could hear, "We are going to have a celebration! My son was dead and now is alive!"

This story cannot stay in the past because it is a parable for every person in every century, especially in our lives. It is not just thousands of years in the dim past and does not speak just to those old and odd Hebrews. We are the prodigals of the now!

We may not waste our inheritance, squander our livelihood or lose ourselves in the gutters of our city, but we could!

We are the prodigal when we decide that we've grown too far past this religious stuff. We are the prodigal when we don't have time for God. We are the prodigal when we are tired of praying, worshipping, going to church and tired of trying to be good all the time.

The world out there looks so inviting. Why not try to be responsible? All I want is just a piece of the action and a taste of the wild side of life. "Father, just let me go!"

There is nothing stopping us, no voice from heaven, no restriction. The way is open. The choice is ours.

That boy was in the presence of God and he had turned his back on Him. He was in paradise and threw it away. He had it all and then had nothing. And then he had the idea he could face the Almighty and ask for forgiveness. Can you beat that? If anyone might ask what hell might be like, I'd say, "Read this parable. For that young man came to realize that heaven was just over there, just around the corner, just past that ridge and all he had to do was walk home."

God is the Father — our Father — and He will welcome us home, says our Lord. He does not wait until we become righteous. "While we were still sinners, God sent His Son Jesus to die for us."

Salvation is offered even when we wander around unaware of God's undeserved love.

God doesn't wait for us to tell our stories. He takes us into His arms, hugs us and welcomes us home!

Thanks, God!