Luke 15: (ESV)13 Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. 14 And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to [1] one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. 16 And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.17 “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger!18 I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ 20 And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21 And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ [2] 22 But the father said to his servants, [3] ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
I was an angry adolescent, and during my last year of high school, I didn't care about my future.
By force and peer pressure, I applied to the University of the Philippines (U.P.) in Diliman, Manila. My second choice was U.P. Baguio. Three months before university classes started, I walked up to the bulletin board in the Diliman campus, scanned through the names lined up in alphabetical order, and was relieved to find mine. But as I ran my finger to the course I was accepted in, I burst into a hoarse cackle.
"Sacha Calagopi--Baguio Campus--double major in the liberal arts."
I was accepted into the only school I applied to, but to the Baguio campus. How was I going to survive the hill station that was devastated just a year ago? I laughed again. What will I do without my friends? I don't know how to live alone. How will I cook? Do my laundry? Will my parents support me? They were only there when I did something wrong. I wasn't sure if they were going to provide for me.
That June of 1991, my Mom stuffed me into a Victory Liner bus along with herself, and we traveled through the barren lahar region of Angeles and the dizzying roads of Naguilian to arrive in Baguio more than eight hours after we left the decrepit station.
I turned my face toward the window and cried under my breath throughout the bus trip. I don't want to go to Baguio. I don't want to leave my friends. They're my only support group. I have no life skills. I cried and I slept. I cried and I slept. And this went on for a day.
My mom shook me awake in the morning, pushed me into a taxi cab, dragged me into the university and helped me enroll. She also found an ad for a room rental, so we looked at a fairly modern Baguio home. I agreed that I could live there and the contract was signed. My parents also promptly placed me on a one hundred peso a day allowance. When I was in high school, I wasn't given a regular allowance, so I didn't know how to budget. I also didn't know how to cook so I often ate in fast food restaurants.
I quickly learned that living alone incurs quite a few expenses. I had to pay for my meals, my jeepney rides to school, my laundry. I had to pay for cassette tapes that I wanted to buy and jeans that I wanted to wear. I wanted to pay for books that I wanted to read. I wanted, wanted and wanted, and the reality was that I couldn't pay for what I wanted.
I was also blaming my parents for not giving me enough money to live in Baguio. They don't love me anyway and they can't fulfill my emotional needs so the least they could do is pay well for my stay here! My resentment continued to build.
It wasn't long before I figured out how to get what I wanted. My parents issued me checks for my allowance and rent. And it wasn't long before I discovered that I could change the numbers and words on the checks and receive a higher amount than what my parents originally intended me to have. Through the use of a sign pen, I was able to transform one thousand first transformed into seven thousand, and later on nine thousand.
I was always highly anxious when I forged these checks. I remember praying and crying out to God and pleading for his forgiveness. But at the same time, my desires for material things and the false perception of the satisfaction that it could bring, trumped my conscience. So I continued to forge.
Until one day, a check bounced.
Concurrently, I had decided to leave U.P. Baguio, so I had taken steps to apply to another university in Manila. I took the test, submitted my application and was awaiting my acceptance letter.
The bank called my parents, and they were able to trace my thefts to the previous months.
Needless to say my father was very angry. His face was very red and his hand was lifted in the air, ready to hit me. "Why, Sacha? Why did you steal from me? Haven't we given you everything?" He asked over and over.
I remained silent. How could I tell him that I didn't feel love from him? How could I tell him that I was angry at him, at the world? How could I tell him that since he didn't love me, I felt entitled to steal from him? I wanted these things that I perceived he deprived me of. I believed that those things would make me happy.
"I'm never going to support you anymore. You're on your own," he yelled as I fled the room.
He sent one of his employees to U.P. Baguio to file for my honorable dismissal, and I spent one of the worst summers of my life.
It was the summer of 1992, the tail end of the Aquino administration. We had an energy crisis, which translated to back breaking ten hour blackouts, and a drunken haze for me. I remember waking up, going to my best friend's house and playing pusoy dos, a Filipino version of poker. I remember going out almost every evening with some of my high school friends. We smoked pack after pack and chugged beer and scotch and tequila.
My life had no meaning, no purpose, no direction. An endless cycle of card games and drinking. I half-heartedly thought about looking for a job as a flight attendant. But the call to the empty life that I lead seemed stronger at that time. This went on for two months.
Then one day, my father woke me up. "Dress up," he was curt.
Hungover and groggy, I put on my jeans and a Tin-Tin t-shirt, and my father drove me to Ateneo, the university that I eventually graduated from.
I entered the registrar's office and she handed me an enrollment form. That day, my father also took me to the bank, opened up a savings account and promised to give me P2000 per month.
He kept his word and never mentioned the incident of the forged checks again.
My father forgave me. He also forgot.
It took me awhile to get my footing back in school. I was able to live within a budget. I never stole a cent again. Eventually, I started doing well in university, and during my third year, I found a part time job, so I was able to stop asking for an allowance and begin to self support.
Sometimes, God presents us with earthly relationships to become a metaphor for our relationship with Him. I was the prodigal daughter and my earthly father completely forgave me. It is this forgiveness that has helped me become a productive citizen.
Twelve years later, I experienced the same forgiveness from my Heavenly father, when I decided to return, surrender my life to Him and humbly ask for His lordship over every area of my life.
It is His forgiveness and love that paved the way for me to reclaim my daughterhood, and become an active citizen of His Kingdom.
Shoot a prayer:
Is there anything in your life that you need to ask forgiveness for? Pray to your Heavenly Father. It's time for you to go home.
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