Jesus tells us this younger son left his family—especially his loving but compliant father—and "took his journey into a far country" (Luke 15:13, emphasis added). This kid wasn't taking any chances with a retreat or return. Where he was headed dad wouldn't know and couldn't possibly find him.

Freedom meant being far away from all the cramping restraint and boring familiarity. Distant meant exotic and exciting.

With this simple and direct understatement Jesus begins the story that has moved hearts and impacted the world for more than two thousand years. In art, literature, film, and in pulpits around the world the Parable of the Prodigal Son has been told thousands of times.

It’s a story that will never grow old because its truths and lessons are timeless…It is the story of all of us and of each of us. It is the story of every sinner.

It is the story of humankind.

The tongue is like a tiny spark, James said, that sets a forest on fire. “It is a world of wickedness. . . it can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself. . . It is restless and evil, full of deadly poison” (James 3: 5-8).

You and I must be careful what we say. And how we say it. The mouth that praises God on Sunday must not be the mouth that curses candidates on Monday…

They gathered in the small boarding house on Market Street. They sat down in high-backed wooden chairs around a simple wooden table. There was no air-conditioning to sooth the summer heat. In the descending rays of late afternoon, a candle was their light. To them was given the awesome responsibility to craft a declaration; the “power to begin the world over again.”

Our Unfinished Work

My parents were building a brick wall.

They carefully placed a string, with a small weight attached to the end, from the top to the bottom where the wall was going to be.

It was measured and precisely straight.

Where could it be?

I looked everywhere: the house, the car, my office. It was nowhere to be found. My cellphone charger was missing. I checked the suitcase.

Nope.

I told our daughter, three hours away, to keep an eye out for it. We had spent the weekend with our family and hoped it might turn up at their house.

Two days later, I was getting ready for a business meeting. I slipped my right foot into my loafer. I felt something in the toe. I reached in—and, to my unanticipated joy and relief, pulled out my charger. Then I remembered that, for some reason, I had curled up the cord and stuffed the charger into my shoe.

Anticipation lasted for weeks. The event? Barely four minutes. It didn’t change anything.

I hate to be late.

I don’t mind so much if others are—things come up. That’s understandable and we all have to be gracious and patient.

It’s no big deal.

A family emergency? That’s quite a different thing. We’ll leave immediately and head to the one we love. We’ll get there as soon as we possibly can. We’ll dodge traffic, speed, and might even go through a red light or two to get there.

One thing we wouldn’t do is delay. We wouldn’t get distracted or forget. If it’s urgent and immediate, then it’s the priority. We go. Fast.

We just finished the backyard. In a short time, we’ll need to attend to the front. It’s a perennial tag-team. That’s because the two oaks in the back are not the same kind as the three oaks in the front. They shed their leaves at different times.

Still, I love the trees. I’ve always loved trees. Ours have grown in the time we’ve lived in the same house for over twenty years. They’ve been silent witnesses to the changes in our lives during the time we’ve been in Texas.

There are many unforgettable characters found in the Bible. Some are strange, some are evil, others great. They represent struggles of the flesh and triumphs of the spirit; failure and achievement; debauchery and nobility; goodness and greed. Ambition and humility. The stories of their lives and exploits have filled many a Sunday school lesson, illustrated many a sermon, and become legendary to those of us who cherish the great and wise Book.

At Cape Fear Valley Medical Center in Fayetteville, North Carolina a beautiful thing happened. On New Year’s Day, twin boys were born. Adonis and Adrian will have no recollection of this special occasion. They have no past to fondly remember or bitterly forget.

They’ve made no mistakes, caused no trouble, had no regrets, celebrated no triumphs, made no resolutions, suffered no sickness, and reached no milestones other than being among the earliest arrivals of this new year.

On June 6, 1984, standing on the cliffs on the northern shore of France where American soldiers had stormed ashore four decades earlier “to set free a suffering humanity”, President Ronald Reagan had come to salute those who survived.

He was joined by Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom, Queen Beatrix of The Netherlands, King Olav V of Norway, King Baudouin I of Belgium, Grand Duke Jean of Luxembourg, and Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau of Canada.

No matter the opposition. No matter public opinion. No matter the cost. As they were brave, so must you and I be brave. As they pressed on, so must we, in the ongoing struggle between good and evil.

Chris Bires, 41, was on his way to work. He walked this street in downtown Chicago every day, Monday thru Friday. It was routinely uneventful. Until that day.

When Chris spotted a man playing his saxophone on the street and the empty can next to him, he decided he’d do a good deed. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out all his coins and emptied them into the can. The bearded young saxophonist smiled at the clean-shaven executive and thanked him. When he got to work, Chris discovered that he was missing his wedding ring.

Mr. Eggers was 68 years old. He had been employed as a customer service representative with Wells Fargo Home Mortgage in Des Moines, Iowa for years. He did his job well. He was also a law-abiding man. So, one can only imagine his shock. Eggers was summarily fired. His offense? Back in 1963, when he was nineteen, Eggers had inserted a fake dime into a laundry machine.

Lorie Smith didn’t intend to be notable. She didn’t seek the limelight. Nor did she welcome controversy. She’s not a lawyer, a judge, or a politician. Lorie is an artist. She designs wedding websites.

Lorie’s the latest contestant in the ongoing struggle over the meaning, protections, and limits of the First Amendment. That’s right, she refused to design a wedding website for a gay couple.

The Declaration of Independence is the greatest, most passionate, and most beautiful expression of the spirit of individual liberty ever penned.

The absence of a father creates an aching void in the heart and life of a child that no government program can fill. In point of fact, it’s been well-documented over the years that many such programs, well-intended, have actually contributed to the pathologies and destructiveness that have hurt families.

The optimist believes we live in the best of all possible worlds—the pessimist fears this is true.