The Prodigal Child

(Oddly enough, ONU's Fall 2010 Chapel Theme.)

Imagine how a deer feels when it gets shot by an arrow. That first initial shock, the wonder of what has happened, a curiosity to see what has made contact with their body. Then the pain sets in. Once you look at the wound, only then does it hurt. And you understand the severity of the problem. By this time you are down on your knee, you as the deer, and you feel your life blood tickling out and around the arrow until the hunter comes and pulls the arrow out. This unplugs the hole and lets your blood spill out much faster. Depending on where he hit you, the side, the neck or the thigh, you will feel the pain of draining blood; feel the dark presence of death start to creep into your vision, much quicker in some places rather than others.

I feel like this deer. Ever since I became a Christian I feel like I’ve been shot and slowly bleeding to death. No one had touched the wound, I wouldn’t let them near. Like a dog protecting their home, I bucked, I growled, I bit. I did not want anyone to “fix” me, to feed me something that I didn't know what it was. Only, recently I have felt more like this deer. I feel as if someone has walked past my defenses and pulled the arrow. However I know they don’t want to pull the arrow out just to leave me there and let me bleed. They pulled the arrow because they want to heal me. The Great Physician wants to heal me. He came to me as I was dying in the woods, left where I was shot, he found me there dying and thought, “This girl is worth something to me and I want to save her.”

For so long I did not want to let him near, I said I did, I even acted like it. But what I really did was allow him to pull the arrow, wrap my wound and I ran. I hid the wound so others wouldn’t know that it was getting infected. I pretended it didn’t matter. The pain was excruciating, rivets of shock, tiny vibrations of terror vibrating through my body. I never showed the pain. I put on a happy face, or at least when I showed some pain I always quickly pulled it off as a joke.

Now I run back to him, hoping that he will take me in. As I run, which is more of a hobble because the infection runs deep, it has spread throughout my whole side, and I wonder if he can still love me. Does he still care about the little deer he found in the woods? The child that he found almost dead, the child in pain, the child who ran from him when there was a glimmer of hope or a ray of love? Can he still love the one who put an arrow in his side, who called him father to all her friends but never believed it in her heart?

When I reach him his arms are open. No wait, not only that, before I reach him he is running to me. I see him and start crying for I know what I’ve done. I have hurt the only one who wants to heal me, the only one who has the ability to care for me, his lost child. I see him running towards me and I cannot contain the mixture of emotions I feel, I fall to the ground ready for him to change when he reaches me. As I lay on the ground crying I prepare for any attack he may have on me. I prepare for the anger I should feel. I let him down, all he wanted was my love and I hurt him. I tense when I feel some arms around me. I fear that he is going to make me stand and take the pain while facing him, while looking into his eyes. I couldn’t bear to see his face again, after the shame I have caused.

I’m surprised when the arms I feel are not hurting me but rather hugging me. I am shocked to feel the one hugging me shake violently with sobs. I can’t help but think he has it wrong, that he hugged the wrong person when I hear him cry “I have missed you so much, my child you are home. You have come back to me.” But I know this voice, it is my Healer. I don’t think he knows it is me, I think he must have found the wrong person. Until I hear him sob my name.

I’m taken home. Home, a word I haven’t used in a while. I am greeted by all the same people; people who I thought didn’t want me. People I was afraid of. Why do they look at me with such love? Don’t they know they should hate me, they should despise me? In fact, it could be better for everyone if they would just kill me. But they don’t. The Healer takes me to my old room. My room is just how I left it, except for the clean floor.

While he fixes me, he gives me some medicine and tells me how much he loves me. I have no response other than “Why? Father how can you love someone like me?” He responds with this “My child I have always loved you. No matter the circumstance. What matters is you came back to me.”

It takes a while for me to get back on my feet. The infection spread further than I knew. When I get back up I know things will be hard. There is therapy for in plan for me. Because I waited so long to come back the infection messed up my whole side. I know that things will be hard. I know that nothing will be easy. However, knowing that my Healer is there, he is watching over me and taking care of me helps.

Things have been hard, but I know that he cares. I may not win a race anytime soon, unless it is against turtles, but I know I will finish in the end.