You probably know my story. Most people do. The prodigal son, finally home after taking all his father's money and spending it in the worst way...
But I don't really want to talk about that. It's ugly, which makes it juicy, but really, most importantly, it's over. Finished. I'm never going back to that.
Most people don't know exactly what happened. Obviously you do, because you've read about it, but back then, in my town, my father kept really quiet about it. He knew how ugly stories make the best gossip, and he wanted me to be able to come back and start living pretty normally without having to deal with everyone knowing why I left and what I did when I was gone: the gossip was bad enough without them knowing that. He wants everyone to mind their own buisness and deal with their own dirty laundry, not everyone else's.
So sometimes, when I talk about my ugly past and don't go into specifics, people who thought I was still acting like the boy they always knew either don't take me seriously and wonder if the "ugly past" I am referring to is actually the time I was throwing stones by the lake and hit a duck by mistake. Obviously I don't really want to set them straight.
And then there are some people who let their imaginations run wild, they imagine I was actually dealing drugs and coordinating a prostitution network and indulging in cannibalism whenever someone overdosed or whenever one of the "girls" died of exhaustion- or simply just for kicks.
I'll tell you one thing about my ugly past: it is neither of those assumptions.
The solution would be to not mention it AT ALL, but if I did that I'd feel like a hypocrite, I wouldn't be REAL, people would think of me as they always have, which isn't quite right, either.
So why exactly don't I want to talk about my past with people?
I think one of the main reasons is that, as I said, "the more you know, the juicier it gets". Theater is really very interesting (although pagan, I probably shouldn't be saying this, but it is one thing I don't regret about my past, I saw quite a few plays that were very interesting. Obviously you need discernment, which I didn't have back then but if I saw them again now I don't think it would be wrong). But one thing I noticed about the stories we watch on stage is that the characters are always behaving in such a way that they have problems later on, and solving them makes juicy stories. In theater, it's OK, as long as you don't spend your day watching it, because it's fictional, and the stories generally aren't ALWAYS gossip. The problem is when the juice is on our neighbors and friends.
Did you ever notice how some of the most self-righteous people are the ones who tell the most awful stories? They always know when a girl wound up pregnant or a guy killed his whole family after drinking too much, or how good 'ol Zach's son turned out to be gay, or about the latest orgy in the neighborhood... They like to tell those stories because it makes them feel good about themselves, because THEY, at least, would NEVER indulge in such sin. But they don't need to!!! If they could, without anybody knowing, they'd go to every orgy on the block! Instead, they just talk about it, fantasize about it, which turns them on nearly as much as actually accomplishing any of it would...
Everybody is like that, to a degree. You know, when leaving was the furthest thing from my mind, I was like that. "No, not me, never." I didn't go to any of the parties, not before leaving anyway. I just heard about them, saying I would never do that. Never. Well, one day, hearing about it just wan't enough anymore, it didn't give me the rush it used to, so I had to try it. Just a little. And it ate me alive.
So I'd rather not talk about it, because I don't want you to go down the same path as I did, or as the pharasees do: either indulging in sin, or in self-righteousness. Both are extremes, and I'm not sure which one is worse. Probably the self-righteousness, because when you have that attitude, how are you going to repent from it? You're not even conscious it's wrong... Jesus came to save the sick, not the "healthy". I knew I needed to come home, it was as plain as the nose on my face.
I also don't want to go into details, because that makes me have to actually think about them, remember what it was like.
Sometimes, I just disgust myself and although I know I've started anew, I get rushes of guilt.
Sometimes, worse, I remember how enjoyable it was at some times. Although sin is ugly, and has dreadful consequences, it's tempting for a reason. And if I think on my past too much, sometimes I am almost tempted to go back to all that.
So that is why I don't want to talk about my past, but rather about my father's love and how I can avoid making more mistakes.
christian
prodigal son
short stories
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