But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found. 

– Luke [15:32]

 

The parable of the Prodigal Son, narrated by Jesus in Luke [15:11]-32, stands as one of the most poignant illustrations of God’s unconditional love and the transformative joy found in reconciliation. In this story, Jesus extends a heartfelt invitation to embrace forgiveness.

The narrative unfolds with a younger son, impatient for his inheritance, taking his share and squandering it in a distant land on reckless living. When a famine strikes, he finds himself destitute, envying the food of pigs he is feeding as part of a job he has taken up. In this moment of desperation, he decides to return home, hoping for his father’s mercy, and ready to offer himself as a servant. Contrary to his expectations, his father, spotting him from afar, rushes to embrace him, celebrating his return with open arms. The father insists on marking the occasion with a feast, expressing joy that his lost son has returned to life. However, this celebration is met with resentment from the older son, who has remained faithful throughout. The father gently reminds him that all he has is already his, emphasizing the importance of celebrating the lost son’s return – once “dead,” now “alive.” This story encapsulates God’s infinite capacity for forgiveness.

Martin Luther King Jr. once remarked, “Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.” Such a perspective highlights that forgiveness is a perpetual practice, challenging as it may be when we feel wronged. Our egos bruise, we feel violated, and our emotions are wounded. Questions arise: How could they do this to us? Why do we deserve this? These feelings are undoubtedly valid, and the father in the parable had every right to feel hurt and betrayed. Yet, upon his son’s return, his response is one of joy.

Perhaps forgiveness is more about our healing than it is about the other person. Consider a life devoid of forgiveness; a journey marred by grudges and resentment. Inevitably, we will encounter individuals who wrong us – are we to isolate ourselves from all? What does a lack of forgiveness morph us into?

Lewis B. Smedes sheds light on this, stating, “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” Unforgiveness binds us within ourselves, hindering our capacity to transcend our limitations. While it does not mean we forget, Jesus calls us to forgive. The ones who caused us pain are on their journey, and denying forgiveness robs us of witnessing transformative moments of faith.

People’s journeys are tumultuous, filled with highs and lows. Jesus accompanies us through every twist and turn, guiding us towards righteousness. I believe there is an innate goodness in every person, though our actions may not always reflect this belief – a shortcoming on our part, not theirs.

Forgiving oneself is equally challenging. The inability to release past transgressions can tarnish one’s self-image, a struggle often mirrored in our capacity to forgive others. Yet, it is crucial to acknowledge the innate goodness within ourselves, just as we do in others.

Some may contest the idea of universal innate goodness, but Genesis [1:27] reminds us that we are all created in God’s image. While we all are created in God’s image, we still falter from time to time. But Jesus, in his sacrificial death, bore the weight of all human sin – the ultimate act of forgiveness. Even those we see as perfect have had transgressions. Yet we are not the judges, because Jesus bore all sin. Ours is to move forward with ourselves and others.

Emulating the Father’s forgiveness in the parable of the Prodigal Son is undoubtedly challenging, but it is a journey toward liberation and healing. Forgiveness frees us from our internal prisons, ushering us into a state of renewal and peace.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” 

– Philippians 4:4

 

In 60 AD, the Apostle Paul found himself sitting in a prison in Rome. Despite these dire circumstances, he penned the Epistle to the Philippians, a short book of only four chapters in the New Testament. From within the cold confines of his Roman cell, a letter of exuberant joy and profound thanksgiving emerged, arguably rendering it the happiest book in the New Testament.

Paul’s preceding years had been arduous. He had traversed the Mediterranean world on three extensive missionary journeys, spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ, an endeavor spanning over a dozen years. Yet, shortly after his return to Jerusalem, imprisonment clutched him.

King Herod Agrippa’s merciless persecution had compelled many early followers, including Peter, John, Thomas, and James, to flee Jerusalem. Alone and without protection, imprisonment was inevitable for Paul. However, claiming his Roman citizenship, he averted death and was sent to Rome for a trial.

The voyage to Rome was tumultuous. The ship, entrapped in the fierce grip of a severe storm, threatened the lives of all on board. Yet Paul, moved by divine reassurance, proclaimed the safety of every soul on board. All 276 people emerged from the ordeal unscathed.

Upon arrival in Rome, Paul’s imprisonment continued. Some scholars suggest he was under house arrest, guarded by a centurion, while others believe he languished in a prison cell, chained and confined. Yet amidst this, the Christian evangelist found a reservoir of joy.

The letter to the Philippians was birthed from these adverse conditions. Despite his circumstances, Paul’s words were infused with a spirit of joy and encouragement, with themes of unity, humility, and the imperative to rejoice in the Lord always punctuating every line.

In this remarkable letter, Paul details the four life practices that have been the bedrock of his unwavering joy:

  • Rejoice Always: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4)
  • Be Gentle: “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4:5)
  • Pray Without Anxiety: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6)
  • Focus on the Good: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)

The crucible of many trials and tribulations had chiseled Paul, refining his faith and deepening his connection to Jesus. Every beating, shipwreck, and imprisonment had not been a deterrent but a conduit, ushering him into a profound realization of the unwavering presence of Jesus. He had witnessed miracles, experienced deliverance, and encountered Jesus in ways that severed his ties to the fickle afflictions of the world.

At this juncture in his journey, imprisoned yet unbroken, Paul was a man fully separated from the ways of the world and profoundly attuned to Jesus. Every word penned in the letter to the Philippians emanates from a soul anchored in this unyielding conviction – Jesus was not just a belief but an ever-present reality, working around and within him, a source of unassailable joy even within the somber confines of a Roman prison.

It’s a testament to grace that a man, surrounded by the imposing walls of a prison and having endured extensive trials while evangelizing in distant and often dangerous lands, could author what many consider the most joy-filled book in the New Testament.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

Romans [8:18] (NIV)

 

 I recently came across, The “Teacup Story”, which is on the surface an amusing story about a fictious tea cup and its personal journey from clay to a beautiful piece of art.  As I read about the teacup and how it is made, I realized it also serves as a poignant allegory for the intricate, often challenging process of personal transformation and refinement. Just like the teacup, every individual undergoes a series of trials and tribulations, each serving a purpose, molding us into the beautiful, resilient creations we are destined to become. The narrative is a delicate intertwining of struggle and beauty, echoing the timeless message embedded within the biblical text of Romans [8:18] (NIV): “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

In the story, a couple stumbles upon a teacup of exquisite beauty, oblivious to the strenuous journey it endured to acquire such elegance. The teacup’s testimony of its metamorphosis from a piece of red clay into an object of admiration mirrors our life’s journey, riddled with difficulties yet purposeful, aiming towards spiritual and personal refinement.

The teacup, throughout its metamorphosis, recounts a series of intensive steps to the couple. Initially, the master’s hands rolled and patted the clay, testing its resilience. This was followed by a dizzying spin on the wheel, testing its balance and core strength. Subsequent to that was its trial by fire, not once but twice, inside scalding ovens. The first bake solidified its form, and the second intensified its durability. Amidst these stages, it endured the overwhelming fumes of painting, a process that instilled in it vibrant colors and a captivating design.

After each step the teacup asked the potter, “Am I done?” The potter would reply, “Not Yet!” Until the final the time in the scalding oven, when the potter told the teacup “Now you are done!”

Every phase of the teacup’s transformation is akin to life’s challenges. The rolling, patting, spinning, and intense heat symbolize life’s pressures, losses, and trials. We often find ourselves echoing the teacup’s pleas – yearning for relief, a cessation of the unyielding trials that life hurls our way. Yet, just like the skilled craftsman in the story, God’s silent, reassuring whisper of “Not yet” is a reminder of His grand design – a masterpiece in the making.

The trials are neither arbitrary nor cruel; they are essential strokes of the Master’s brush, imparting strength, resilience, and vibrancy to our character. The craftsman’s persistent yet purposeful methods underscore a profound truth – every challenge endured and every obstacle surmounted contributes to whom we become.

Romans [8:18] offers solace and perspective amidst trials. Our present sufferings, intense and overwhelming, are transient phases under the Master’s skillful hands. Each trial, though painful, is a precursor to an unveiling of a glory, a beauty, and a strength that far outweighs the tribulations. The verse illuminates our understanding of trials not as arbitrary cruelties but as necessary steps towards an unveiling of an intrinsic glory embedded within our beings.

As the teacup emerges, radiant and exquisite, we too emerge from our trials with refined beauty and strength. Each challenge is a kiln of refinement, each tribulation a chisel sculpting us into beings of profound resilience and grace. The craftsman’s assurance, “Now you are a finished product,” echoes the silent yet profound assurance that every trial is not a destination but a passage, not an end but a transformation.

The teacup’s journey is not just an illustration of transformation but a profound narrative of hope. Each stroke of adversity is a brush of refinement; each moment of trial is a step closer to unveiling a masterpiece. Like the teacup, we are under the watchful, skillful eyes of the Master Craftsman – God – being molded, not marred; refined, not ruined; and transformed, not tarnished. Each “Not yet” is a whisper of hope – a promise of a masterpiece in the making, echoing the eternal assurance that our present sufferings pale in comparison to the glory that awaits us.