Ok, so you know how you hear these testimonies about how people get in these dire straits when it comes to their addiction or their despair…and they make a deal with God- sort of “you can have my life if you save me from THIS” (whatever the THIS is), and they get this big FAT miracle. They get set free. Depression lifts and they are filled with light. Addiction just stops and miraculous sobriety begins. Maybe this happens more (or less) often than we know. I dunno. But I know this: I don’t have any bargaining chips left.

Nada. Nuttin.

Maybe I used them all when I was a kid and I would write prayers on the desk with my fingers when they were picking the parents who would accompany us on field trips. Sorry, Mom. I think you got picked every time.

It’s sorta funny because I wonder if I used up my allotment of spectacular answers to prayer. Maybe I’m like the other son, where the prodigal gets to leave and learn all his lessons and return to a party, and I’m the one who stayed home. The forgotten son. Left overs. Because, Lord knows I could use a big miracle, and my ask just seems to echo in the chambers.

And what is the deal with that whole story anyway? I mean, I would feel bad if I were the obedient son and didn’t get a party because of my steadfast good son-ness.

This reminds me of some gut wrenching lyrics by a duo called “Penny and Sparrow”. If I remember correctly, and I think my daughter told me this, they wrote and sang these words about the son who was “left over” (note that this story is told in the context of a romantic relationship, but the point remains):

You say he’s in town, and you’re crying
You’re throwin’ him one hell of a party
So I hang up and start shaking
Thinking, “You never threw one for me”

and

But you’re not always fair to me
Like I wish you would be
He’s the one who left home
And I’m the one who stayed

I don’t know about you, and maybe you gotta listen to the song to really get the heartache of it, (which you can do HERE) but I really get how the left over son felt. And maybe it was just a temporary thing. Or maybe it was a long standing competition that he never took second place in. Like, who knows how much pride the leftover son took in being the “good one” before the prodigal took off. And really, it’s possible that the leftover son was actually “number one son” for a really, really long time before the son who ran off got sick of his own heartache of being “the dumb one” or whatever he felt he was that made him think there was something better out there for him.

And what’s funny is that as I am writing this, the possibilities are all playing out before me. Because we all pretty much know how family dynamics work, it seems to make some sense to me now. I used to feel bad for left over brother, but now I realize, they both had their crosses to bear. They just got to bear different crosses at different times.

Anyway, the point is, I don’t have anything to negotiate with when it comes to God and answered prayers. He has been my confidant since I was just a little. And now I feel a little like that left over brother, watching all sorts of coolness unfold for others while I’ve just been sitting here doing my job.

But thankfully/fortunately, God doesn’t abide by a bargaining chip system. He operates by Grace. And I have faith for the big miracles for me even when I feel like a left over brother. I keep knocking and trusting and yanking on the hem of His garment.

And I’m pretty sure that’s enough.