Prodigal Son Story – the Awesome Version

Imagine if the prodigal son story unfolded as the Father intended.
 
The younger son showers and puts on his new clothes. 
 
The older brother is overjoyed that his family is back together.
 
After the feast, when all the musicians, friends, and relatives have finally gone home, the three of them sit on the porch together. There are three rocking chairs, with the Father in the middle and a son on each side.
 
Their sprawling ranch house is on the side of a mountain, right beside a bubbling creek. For as far as their eyes can see they overlook their barns, fields, and herds. The blossoms from an orange tree in the garden perfumes the air. A coyote slips through the trees like shadow. An owl glides whispering past them in the dusk. As the day turns to night the sense of well-being is palpable. 

• The younger son doesn’t notice the cuts on his feet from his long walk home, or the smell of the pig farm that is slowly fading. He is overwhelmed with gratefulness to back home, in the presence of His Father and his brother.
• The older son has the satisfaction only comes after a hard season of impossibly difficult labor and deprivation, when he is starting to see the fruit of his labor. Entitlement is not even a thing. He loves working at expanding the Family domain. He was created for this. And now some things are starting to go right . . .
• The Father is resting from His work. His dreams are coming to fruition. “This is very good.” 

 
Our Father waits for the porch times in the evening, . . .

. . . and for the garden times early in the morning. 

I come to the garden alone 
while the dew is still on the roses, 
And the voice I hear falling on my ear, 
The Son of God discloses 
 
And He walks with me and He talks with me, 
And He tells me I am his own; 
And the joy we share as we tarry there, 
None other has ever known 
 
He speaks, and the sound of his voice 
is so sweet the birds hush their singing, 
And the melody that He give to me 
Within my heart is to ringing. 
 
I stay in the garden with Him, 
Though the night around me is falling. 
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe 
His voice to me is calling. 

Songwriters: WILLIAMS JUNE DENIECE / MILES C AUSTIN 

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