I’ve been making my way through Luke in the mornings. During Lenten season I enjoy the gospels especially as we soberly march toward the cross, our hearts flinging open with joy at the resurrection. This morning I was in Luke 15 reading about the familiar parable of The Prodigal Son. Sometimes it’s hard to mine anything new from these well tread passages, though the Holy Spirit is good at showing us anything we may have missed, or maybe can only now handle. Today I don’t know if I have anything new for you, but one particular thought was new for me.

The story is told in verses 15:11-32, culminating with the father’s response to the oldest son who’s understandably frustrated, even angry that a party has been thrown celebrating his younger brother’s return—the brother who, by the way, had squandered the inheritance on foolish, even tawdry, living. That guy. A friend of mine recently told me that if she had been the older brother she would have stood there, hands on hips, saying, really?—in the spirit of  Seth and Amy from SNL. All this comes to a broil when the older son essentially does say really?, and has it out with the father, to which the father responds, “Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”

I once heard someone share about this passage and the “everything I have is yours” part, and it was just remarkable. I’ll never forget it. She shared about a deeply coveted experience she’d missed having only for the Lord to remind her that absolutely everything He has is hers. It turns out that someone else needed to experience the moment she’d hoped to have, and in the end, nothing was lost because when you belong to God and all He has is yours, there can be no true loss.

The phrase leading up to “everything I have is yours”, is “You are always with me”. I hadn’t thought too much about that phrase before until this morning. This is a stunning remark in light of everything the older brother was so upset about. We get angry or jealous about someone else’s party, the attention they’re receiving that maybe we should be receiving. We compare things for things, “She shouldn’t have gotten that, when I’ve done all this.” Or “Why is he getting the promotion when I’ve done all the work?” Why the nicer home, bigger family, better spouse, elaborate vacation? We focus on the monetary and material—why the ring, the calf, the robe? For him? For her? Are you kidding me?

And then the father brings us back in five words, “You are always with me.”

He brings us back to relationship. To what it means to wake up to him everyday. To see him out in the fields of our work. To call out to him with any question, because we can, because he’s right there, with us. To collapse at his table at night and dine with him over a lavish meal. To crawl under the covers knowing our beds are under the roof of his favor, the watch of his eye. The party for the younger son was significant, the celebration a study in grace and mercy, no doubt. But the grounding of the father’s words, “you are always with me” was the prize the younger son had forfeited for a season. Son, daughter, you have me! We’re together. Always. Don’t you see this is everything?

I suppose the question is how important this is to us. Would we rather have the party of the father or the presence of him? The father was reaching out to the older son’s heart when he said “you are always with me”, because absolutely nothing on this earth, nothing, no. thing. trumps relationship with God.

I don’t know what’s gnawing at you, but the offer of relationship with God through Christ is so intimate, so personal, so fulfilling, higher than even the most lavish of material celebrations. God sent His Son to die for it. As we set our sights toward Easter, my prayer is that we never forget that Christ came for many things, not the least of which was for relationship. So we could know him. (1 John 4:13-15.) You may be many things today: Disappointed, frustrated, confused, maybe even angry like the older brother. But don’t be lonely. We have The Father who has availed himself to deep abiding relationship with us. And as a bonus, he’s kicked in everything he has, as though it’s our own.

I flew in from California last Sunday night just in time to attend a memorial service for a newborn baby. He was the son of two of my friends, whole and perfect. For reasons unknown, except to Elohim (The God who creates), this little baby went to be with Jesus on his third day here on earth.

My friends attend a new church that currently meets in a bar, which works well for Sunday morning worship services but not as great for other functions. Since my friends were without a church building to celebrate their son, they chose one of their favorite and frequented spots – Ugly Mugs coffee shop. Up until this past Sunday I had sipped many cups of loose leaf tea and french pressed coffee at many coffee houses in countless cities. But I had never worshiped. I had never sung songs to Jesus or prayed corporately or listened to a pastor say things like, “All things will be made right in the end, and if this is not okay with you, it’s because it’s not the end yet.”

Because my friends who lost their child are exceedingly young – 22 – the crowd skewed youthful, and it blessed me. It moved me to see a young generation saddened, confused and grieving, but lifting their hearts and minds to Jesus, the Author of life in a somewhat unconventional spot, yet so perfectly fitting. Why not celebrate life and ask questions and cry with one another – and invite Jesus to reign – in a place that regularly teems with community? It reminded me that Christ is not confined to the brick and mortar buildings we call “church” (though a phenomenal blessing to have a set apart place), but reigns in every crevice of our world. And He is delighted when we bring Him to those nooks and crannies.

Above all else, I was proud of my friends who said at such young ages, “We do not grieve as the world grieves” (I Thes 4:13). They had hope that was palpable and impossible to feign. They didn’t merely speak of the fact that God works all things together for good for those who know and love Him, but they hooked that truth with a lasso and tugged it into their breaking hearts. And the church stood around them and agreed with them and God. And drank Americanos.

God bless you Ben, Amy and Aiden.