The Elder Brother

Read a post today about a new book coming out.  I don't recall the title, but it was yet another story of a prodigal. Chased from God by unloving religion, this young lady embarked on an incredible journey that led her into the saving grace of Jesus.

What a wonderful story!  Don't we all love to hear those stories?  To weep with the lost and rejoice with the found?

Yet, an almost rebellious question popped into my mind:  Why are the stories always about the prodigals, and never about the elder brother?  Because if that girl was the prodigal, then I am the older brother.

We look at the older brother and we think, "How selfish! Yes, his brother made some bad decisions, but he paid for them with loss and heartache.  Now he's back and all the older brother cares about is not having a party for himself?"  We shake our heads and cluck with self-righteous disapproval.

I'd like to offer a different perspective.

Yes, some older brothers just want a party.  But sometimes there's a deeper issue.  Let me set the scene for you.  Younger brother, let's call him Sam, asks for his inheritance. Father gives it.  Sam goes and starts having the time of his life.  Parties, friends, games, anything he wants... Older brother, call him James, watches in horror.  James knows none of this will bring lasting happiness, but there is a secret part of him that envies Sam and wishes he dared do something like that ... just once.  He doesn't.  Nor does he admit to anyone that secret desire - he quashes it immediately when it rears its ugly head. Good people work.  They don't play until the work is done... and then they keep it dignified.  What Sam is doing is NOT dignified.

Time passes.  The family loses track of Sam.  James, ever faithful, ever obedient, continues to work hard on the family farm.  Nobody pays much attention to James, but they pray every day for Sam, crying out to God that He will bring their boy back to them. James prays too, but that secret part of his heart wishes his parents would notice that they still have one boy.

Then, Praise the Lord!  Sam comes home.  Ragged, skeletal, broken... but home.  The father is thrilled! They kill the fatted calf. They invite all of their friends.  The music plays; the home is filled with joy and laughter.  James wearily trudges home at the end of a long day, ready for a good meal and a hot bath... but what is all this noise?  The servants tell him, "Your brother came home!"

James freezes in his tracks.  The faithful, ignored one.  They are giving a party to Sam.



And they didn't even invite him!



Oh, since he showed up, he's welcome to come inside, but no one thought of him out in the field.  No one sent for him to rejoice.  All his faithfulness means nothing, in the long run.

And if he dares to try to express all those emotions tumbling around inside, he is written off as selfish.


Please understand, my parents never neglected me or made me feel ignored.  I had the best parents on the planet.  But I went to a church school.  Same kids, same teachers for 12 years.  Even if the teachers quit teaching in the school, we still saw them at church. As we grew into our teen years, I watched the "cool" people bending over backwards trying to "save" the teens who were seemingly not interested in God.  I had my own friends, but I kind of wished some of the "cool" people would do some of the cool things with me that they kept doing with the other teens.

I remember our band leader having a "heart-to-heart" with the high school students at the beginning of one school year.  She said something special about every student there, pointing out the things they could do to build each other up in the Lord, some talent they had that could be used of God.  When she came to me, I swear her mind went blank.  "And Julie... well, she's faithful. Always has been, always will be."  I felt like a nice piece of wallpaper.

I kept trying to think of little things I could do, skating the edge of "badness", just so people would notice me as a person.  I told one of my friends I should wear a black strapless dress to my graduation, just to get people's attention.  She thought that was hilarious... I think she would have helped me pick one out... except that she was restrained by the standard I was.  There are some things one just doesn't do in an ultra-conservative setting.

One more story that I hope brings the point home.  When I was in college, something happened that had me devastated...something that probably wouldn't even bother a normal person (before your mind goes to all the horrible things that can happen on a college campus).  I, however, was very upset at the situation.  A lady that I considered my friend noticed I was upset and asked me if I was going to be okay.  I told her I didn't know.  She laughed, and said, "You will be, you always have been before." Then she just walked away.  I stared after her, thinking, "How do you know? What if I'm not?" She never even asked what was wrong.

I'm not complaining.  I was lucky.  In spite of my teenage angst, I really did have good friends and people who cared about me.

So what am I trying to say?  Just this:

Parents, don't neglect the good kids.  The ones who do not cause trouble.  They need to know they are important to you, too.

One of the speakers at the OCEAN conference (Carol Barnier) mentioned this.  She had two ADHD children and one compliant child.  She pointed out that you don't have to give the compliant child as much time as the difficult ones.  I can testify to the truth of that statement.  You don't have to give us as much attention... we really do understand.  Then she said, "But you do have to give them some time." She said that she cut an hour out of her week to spend just with that compliant child... alone.  I wanted to leap out of my seat, throw my arms around her neck and cry, "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for understanding!"  It could be half an hour... it could be fifteen minutes... just something to let us know we matter.

In my case, I spent a lot of time folding laundry with my mom.  I knew she appreciated that she didn't have to worry about me.  I knew she would always be there to listen.

However, at these homeschool conferences, on parenting sites, on different blogs, everyone always seems worried about the difficult children.  I just want to point out that, whether you have a prodigal or an older brother, both need your love.  Both need to know you will listen.  And both have an equal need for the Savior.

Remember your quiet child.  Read Lisa Jacobson's How to Get Your Quiet Child to Talk . Give them an extra hug.  Let them know you appreciate not having to worry about them.

Most of all, make sure they know you will listen when they need you.

God Bless,

Jules