Rock Salt Collective, a community of artists and creatives connected to the Rock, have been exploring some of the parables Jesus told. We started with some stories that Jesus told when he was being criticised by the religious leaders for hanging out with the "bad guys" too much. Jesus tells three stories about how precious lost things which are lost are. The most well known of these three stories is the story often known as "The Prodigal Son."
It's a story of a son who has left home, shunned his father and then needs to return. In it Jesus is describing the heart of God. A love so deep that he doesn't care what mess people have got into but celebrates when His lost child comes home.
Here's the first part of a two part poem trying to capture the events from the son hitting rock bottom, sitting in pig swill wondering if he could beg his father to let him be a servant at his house, to the moment where his father embraces him, not as servant but with the joy of a father who loves his son no matter what.
HOME [Part One]
Running uphill on treadmills, not making mountains out of molehills, reality is downhill,
Into swine feed overspill, consigned to vistas of landfill, resigned to life on standstill,
Party hard and now on the comedown, cold chills, no thrills, head like pneumatic drills,
Trying to steal precious sleep, Like kleptomaniacs eyeing up sleeping pills,
Inept brainiac ideas spring like months of daffodils, thinking you’re not daft until
Now not suited and booted, style points muted, no longer find yourself dressed to kill.
You’re sat in pig swill, the bank bills have dried up like river beds in drought season,
Knees deep in, where the fleas have been, stench on the winds with the breeze in,
Stolen dad's money, no waiting for daddy’s death to ease in, that’s in-house treason.
Smells causing gasps, asthmatic wheezing, bankruptcy the reason the ecstatic’s ceasing,
Pleasure fast decreasing, depression is piercing, all those close friends now laying low,
No longer wanting to know, they’re on a different rhythm though, not offering hugs, bro
Now throwing elbows, party with gusto, stole all the dough, literally a bit of give and go.
Didn’t read the memo? its all in freefall like Jericho, listen up like surround sound audio.
Life turned blue like indigo, bank account frozen like eskimos, last penny spent long ago,
Left with nothing like clothes on david by michaelangelo, so stop the braggadocio,
Caught in the undertow, hollow, like base of champagne, bubble’s popped, end of reign,
Blown it all like hurricaines, mutiny on the waves, ocean graves, drowning in this pain,
Enslaved as the waters ensnare, floods of despair, in the clutches of sea serpents.
Thought breaks the darkness, dawn’s disturbance, it’s certain, show’s over, final curtain.
Only one choice left, leave this hell, hit the road, desperate times, the clock is urgent,
Heart with heavy load, find my way back to old abode, and ask to become dad’s servant
This blog post was brought to you by....Oli Higham
Oli Higham is part of the leadership team at the Rock Community Church. He finds it hard to sum himself up in a few sentences. However he loves Jesus and is also rather fond of his family, films, coffee, rugby, Arsenal FC, poetry, spray paint, beards, cooking and laughing.