I Am Prodigal

What follows is a chapter of a personal nature, associated with a project I began many years ago called "A Portrait of Me." I have not blogged all chapters (nor do I intend to), but links for those that I have may be found at the end of this post. In these, I lay myself bare and open to scrutiny. It is, after all, my story. What follows is not a happy read, but it is critical to what came later.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from Pole to Pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll.
I am the Master of My Fate;
I am the Captain of my Soul.

-- "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley, 19th century

Relief floods my senses as I punch the clock and head down the stairs, past the popcorn machine and out the door. The restless spirit that has plagued me these many months is percolating once again in the chambers of my teenage heart. It pounds and it pounds, feeding the angst that threatens to unhinge my mind, held together only by the sheer will of my stubborn pride. On this warm summer night, I crank down the windows, put the car in gear and go from zero to 60 in a quarter of a tank. These nights, I drive by instinct. It is the same almost every night: up and down the main roads for half an hour, through the McDonalds (never stopping), before cutting a well worn path first to the north, then west by the school, down back through town (still don't see anyone I know), to the south out by the paper mill, before finally working my way back home. Windows down, Eagles blaring (sometimes Boston, sometimes Def Leppard), headlights leading the way as I cruise. Most nights, the driving sedates the restlessness, but not so this night.

Out in the dark and away from lights, I finally pull off the road. I hop onto the trunk of the car and look up at the starry night, gazing at friends in the sky who now are virtual strangers to me. Yet even here, there is no respite from the pounding, the torment of a lonely soul who gave up his friends for others, all for the promise that was supposed to come with faith, with surrender, only to leave this feeble newborn alone in further isolation, his salvation merely a trophy on somebody else's wall, as if that alone was the prize to be won. The utter hypocrisy, the damaging words, the rationalized behavior of these deluded disciples was too much to bear. Is this what You expect of me, to walk through life as if nothing matters beyond a pathetic expression of belief? Am I supposed to believe that all this has no greater purpose than putting on airs of self-righteous snobbery? No. I refuse this. I refuse to be subject to such falsity. Let this be my declaration: You may be Lord, but You are not mine. I shall be the Master of my fate and the Captain of my soul. I alone have the power and the will to be good, and should I fail, the responsibility is my own. I cannot be perfect, but I can aim for perfection, and I shall live with the consequences of my success and my failure. For I shall not be conquered, and this restlessness shall cease. I will do it, because I will it. And I will it. With my fist and my tears, I will it.

I drive home, my path and my purpose now clear. There is no escaping what I have done, even as I revel in the darkness of my declaration of rebellion. What folly! To entertain the fantasy that the finite can control the infinite. But my pride keeps me steadfast: I cannot be conquered. Nor can I be victorious. I am Prodigal.

Yet lurking in the quiet recesses of the night, the claim upon my life is not yet revoked. There will come a reckoning, to lay my folly bare, to set the course of a future now clouded from view. There will be but one option: Surrender. But on this night, and for the next two years, I will remain invictus.

"My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand." (John 10:29, NASB)

"You did not choose Me, but I chose you …" (John 15:16a, NASB)

A Portrait of Me: The Key
A Portrait of Me: River Walk
A Portrait of Me: Journey's Dawn
A Portrait of Me: I Am Prodigal
A Portrait of Me: This is My Story (coming soon)