Tag Archive: twice prodigal

Spiky haired brett fish

while i was sitting at the office waiting for someone to help me with something i started scrolling backwards through my blog posts and came upon some from long, long, ago in a galaxy and figured that there might be new readers/followers who hadn’t seen these and so here is a taste of past brett’s blogging:

not just this post but all the commentary that followed – there were some really great questions and we definitely wrestled with some stuff here:

Go to Hell! Ha Ha Ha!

i wish i wrote more poetry and maybe i’ll get round to taking some time that we have here in Oakland to do just that, but this is one of my favourite poems that i wrote when i used to – it is basically about the prodigal son returning home but as he gets closer realising that this may not be the first time:

Twice Prodigal

i have posted recently on being present as a way to love your person better and this post from a while back looks at that from a bigger picture scenario – too often we fall into the trap of looking to the next big thing at the expense of the one we should we currently enjoying [and we do this to other people more!]:

Can’t I just enjoy this big thing first?

this post is a good intro to two more i am hoping to post later today relating to the rape-as-humour scenario that played out over Twitter in the last few days and which i am still trying to get my mind around. i really believe that with humour there is a line and that probably we will all put our lines at different places, but i think it is so important to hold to that and react when your line is crossed:

‘Raped’ as a fun catch phrase tragedy

and just so we don’t get too serious, here is a great clip of Louis C.K. on the Conan o’ Brien show speaking about the miracle of flight:

You are in the sky contributing zero.

and then lastly this short series i did three years ago and got into trouble from the head of my denomination because he read the series name but never read any of the posts:

reasons to hate Christianity

we all know the much told story of the prodigal son, right? in fact, i even wrote a poem about it once, imagining the prodigal son had gone prodigal again [as one does] which you can take a look at here, but if you in fact don’t know the story, you can look it up in Luke 15.11-32.

and we all focus on the bad son and how we relate and the clever preachers tell us how it should be renamed ‘the good father’ or something like that [i wonder if anyone has ever juxtapositioned it with ‘The Godfather’ because the comparison/contrast seems like a natural go to] but in the last couple of weeks it is interesting to note how much i keep finding myself comparing myself to the older brother.

which is not a good thing. he was always the wimp and the whiner. it’s like, “dude, free party, go inside” and i think i used to get annoyed with people who would compare themselves to him when i was growing up, cos i just couldn’t see it. He is just a complete lamehead.

so it does concern me to keep finding myself comparing me to him, cos what would ten year younger brett think of me? [that guy has been popping up in all sorts of conversations and scenarios lately, although to be honest i think he would have got arrested or beaten up yesterday in the situation down the street with the police and the neighbors and the car crash, cos that guy sometimes could not hold his mouth…]

let’s remind ourselves:

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” Luke 15.22-32

to be continued here…

twice prodigal

like writing poetry but i haven’t had the motivation to write something for a long time, but here is one i wrote a long time ago which i really like which a lot of you will not have read…


Have I walked this path?

I can not remember having come this way before;

Yet… strange feeling of familiarity haunts me

As each step I take brings me closer to home…

I still taste the pods I fed those wretched swine

A plague reminder of my sin and shame upon my tongue

Hazy images of the land I’m walking:


…or memory?

Something is not quite right

Can’t put my finger on it

Inheritance grasped…

Relationship squandered.

…and now returning to beg mercy and forgiveness

A Father’s compassion…

A butchered calf celebrating a life once lost

Now returned from the grave

…could it be?

Is it even possible?


That could never happen!

It wouldn’t!

It mustn’t…


But yet…

I find myself walking a path somewhat recognisable to me

A robe hangs across my shoulders – faded, torn.

Ring on my finger with shiny glint, long lost…


Dirt-stained sandals worn beneath my tired feet…

Surely this is my first journey home…

Yes! – my mind is just playing tricks

That’s it… no one would return home to such love and acceptance

Only to turn his back and set out once more?

Nobody cured of blindness deliberately erases their sight

Pushes away the embrace of unconditional forgiveness

Heads back towards the shadowy abyss…


This is it.

It is me…

And I am walking home

Back to a place I knew

To a father who hasn’t stopped loving

Looking out…

Awaiting my return.

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