Short rough draft trailer from chapter 10 of my book FALLEN FROM GRACE: Dispelling the Disconnects Between First and Second Generation Christianity

Days had turned into weeks. Weeks had turned into months, and now the months years. Isaac had been picking up the slack along with his father since Jacob had departed. They subsisted by the sweat of their brow. The family farm had come quite a ways since Isaac’s father had started with a few sheep and a garden forty years prior. The farm was a full-fledged daily production now with sheep and goats and bulls and cows. For years now they had used hired help to allow continued growth. Their fields stretched out of sight. Isaac had married and was living modestly, though contentedly, near to his father.

His bride had been approved and then a marriage agreed upon with her parents. She was faithful and capable. Isaac and his wife were both hard workers.

The family name had been marred with the disappearance of his brother from the family farm. He was only 21. He had gone against protocol and taken his inheritance early to go and taste the worldly life.  And taste he did.

His drinking parties were fantastic. His drug parties flamboyant. His sex parties famous. He was exploiting the pleasures of sin. For a season. He had hurt their dad’s reputation, not to mention Isaac’s reputation. Rumors were started by busybodies about Isaac which made their rounds in town.

The long summer days were coming to a close. Harvest time, the busiest time of year, was about to commence. Isaac was finishing up the books for the month. His dad had always been frugal. The farm easily made budget in retribution for its employees. Isaac admired his dad’s foresight and thrift. He closed up the little self-standing room that served as an office. He was tired, but it was a fulfilling tiredness of accomplishment. His dad had taught him well the secrets of peace and contentment. He had been a good learner.

As he stepped out into the dusk to make his way home, he thought he caught the faint echoes of music coming from his father’s house. He stopped to listen. Yes, he was almost sure he could hear shouting and singing. Suddenly an employee appeared, hurriedly making his way toward the house.

“What is going on?” asked Isaac.

“Oh, your brother has come home today! Your father had the fatted calf slaughtered. Everybody is there or on their way. Your wife and children are already there. The table has been set. Musicians have been hired. Your father only awaits your presence to begin the feast!”

Isaac felt the sick knot of betrayal in his stomach. The fatted calf had only ever been slaughtered for the religious celebrations and never for self-indulgence. Hadn’t his father been the one to teach him this? Isaac looked again toward the house. Another one of the faithful servants of his father was walking toward him.

“Isaac, your brother has returned. Your father has accepted him as his son once again. He wears the robe of your family and your father’s ring. Your father has sent me to tell you the good news.”

“Tell him that I will not be attending,” Isaac flatly answered in righteous indignation.

“Shall I give him a reason?”

“Yes, tomorrow is a work day and I need my rest.”

Isaac turned and headed toward his home. He felt betrayed by his father, but only because he loved and respected his father so much. The hurt festered into anger as he walked slowly home. Emotion started to overtake him. Suddenly he heard that voice that he loved. That steady, strong, stable voice of his father:

“Isaac, my son, where are you going? Are you not going to join us in celebration?”

Isaac stopped, but did not turn around. He sought for words that would be sharp and inflict pain on his father to show him what betrayal he felt. He heard his father’s footsteps getting closer over the din of the singing in the house. Then they stopped a few feet from Isaac.

“Isaac, what is it?” asked his father with pathos, maybe realizing now that Isaac may not have been as prepared for this possibility as his father had been. Maybe he had taken Isaac’s commitment and diligence and assumed he was mentally ready to receive his brother back.

“Dad,” Isaac began, forming his thoughts to make sure that when he spoke he would be understood without saying something that he would regret,

“I have been with you from the beginning. I have trusted you and obeyed you. You have never thrown a party for me like this.” Isaac’s father understood the pity party although he did not approve. He knew that today would not only be a watershed day in the life of his second son, but that his first son – if he continued his pattern of grasping wisdom – would also remember this day as one of the greatest of his life. Isaac continued:

“Jacob took your hard-earned money, disobeyed every principle of life you ever taught him, and wasted your investment on prostitutes and carnality. He comes home and the first thing you do is throw him a party. Dad, I just don’t understand.”

Isaac’s father bridged the last couple steps to Isaac and put his hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around. Isaac’s father sensed the misunderstanding and the perceived feelings of betrayal in Isaac.

“Isaac, do you see my house? Do you see the stables and pens and cattle and sheep? Do you see the fields of grain? Do you know all of the servants we employ? Do you know my credit standing in the community? Do you know the name that I have worked so hard for so many years to make good? Everything, Isaac…do you not know that everything is yours?”

Isaac looked into his father’s face embarrassed at the emotion he was having difficulty suppressing as a grown man. In a few short words his father had dispelled the anger, uprooted the bitterness that would have been. Isaac felt a little shame at his childish behavior and at his lack of trust in the man he loved. He did not know how to apologize. His wise father understood that too. He took him by the shoulders and drew him in close in fatherly embrace. The neck that had caught the regretful tears of repentance a few hours before from the second son, now caught the quiet tears of acceptance shed in the darkness by the first son.