Clint had just finished feeding the livestock when he heard a commotion from the house. He raced up the porch steps. As he neared the house the sound was different, it was his mom’s laughter and he couldn’t quite catch the muffled words. What was going on? As he went through the back door he caught sight of the haggardly looking figure sitting at the kitchen table. They’d welcomed in another homeless bum! As he got closer he smelled the stale body odor but wait, this guy looked familiar! Could it be? No, he’s probably dead, it couldn’t be him. He’d have some nerve showing his face around here after what he’d done. But it was him. It was his long lost, good for nothing brother! What was he doing here?
Clint slumped in a kitchen chair and couldn’t believe his eyes! His mother was smiling again. His dad was the happiest he’d seen him in ages! His dad turned to Clint and he said, “Isn’t this the best Christmas gift? Your brother has come home. He is alive and we feared he was dead. Welcome your brother back.” Clint choked on the words that his father wanted to hear. He stormed out of the house. “How dare this worthless brother of mine darken the door of this house again.” He tried his best to compose himself. He couldn’t stay out in the cold all night. After all, it was Christmas Eve and he’d be expected to attend the Christmas Eve service.
When his brother left years ago, Clint was secretly glad. Clint hated the gossip that continually followed his brother around. After all, Clint enjoyed the fact that he was “the good son.” He enjoyed the pats on the back from friends and the praise that went with it. “What a good son you are to your parents.” His parents had aged considerably after his brother abruptly left 8 years ago. “And now he’s back”, thought Clint to himself. His face still burned red hot with anger but he went back into the house, mechanically willing himself to get ready for the Christmas service. “Never mind, that lousy brother of mine will probably sneak out tonight with anything valuable.”
When he came down to go to church a short time later, he saw his brother had cleaned up. He was clean shaven and wearing Clint’s clothes that hung on his bony frame like an old wire coat hanger. Clint reasoned to himself, “I can get through this, keep up appearances, just for this service.”
As they entered the church, people turned in their pews to see them. Some gasped and cupped their hands to whisper. People gathered around them and greeted his mom and dad. “Is this…? Why, it can’t be Stephen?” Others gathered around to shake hands and hug his mom, dad, and Stephen. Some spoke with tears, “We never stopped praying for you. And God has answered our prayers.” Another congratulated Clint, “You must be so happy to have your brother back home.” The words stung Clint. He was anything but happy, he was fuming inside, but ever the one in control, “the good son”, he told himself he could get through tonight. It would be over soon enough.
Clint went through the motions and mouthed the familiar words. When he got home, he went straight to bed and fitfully tossed all night. Stephen wouldn’t stay and life would be back to normal again very soon.
The next morning, he got up early and he went out to do chores. The barn door stood open and someone was inside. It was Stephen. Clint had had enough. He let all the years of hatred and bitterness spew out. Stephen stood silently, his head drooped. Stephen struggled to speak, “Yes, yes, Clint you’re right and it’s all true….”, but before Stephen could finish, their dad came through the door. He had heard it all, all of it. Clint saw the look on his dad’s face- grief, hurt and anger. And that was the last thing Clint wanted to see. He wanted to protest, “But, I’m the good son!” But it was too late. Clint hurriedly left and got into his truck. He had to leave, this was all wrong, all backwards.
Clint pulled his truck up on the side of the road. He deserved better, after all, he had stayed. He’d done the right thing, he took care of everything and everyone. His Bible lay open on the seat next him. It was open to a passage.. “God, what have I done wrong? I did what I thought was right.” As his eyes fell on the pages, words seemed to be written in bold print. He read,
“ “Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
It was as though the words shot straight to his heart. Clint knew what he must do, he must forgive Stephen. He drove back home thinking of all the harsh words he’d said. He had to ask his father and Stephen to forgive him. When Clint went into the house, his father turned to him and said “‘My son, you have always been here for us, and everything I have is yours. But we have to be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”
Two sons came home that Christmas.
It seemed a lifetime since he’d turned down the old dirt road and passed the old graveyard where most of his relatives were buried.
