There’s a well-known parable in the New Testiment book of Luke known as the Prodigal Son. In this story, a son asks for his inheritance early then leaves home to recklessly spend all his wealth on less-than-honorable things. Upon finding himself poor and unhappy, eventually he determines to return to his home, not as a son, but to beg for work as a servant. When he arrives, however, his father immediately runs to him and embraces him as his son, all debt forgiven.

This story is told to teach a few lessons. The absolute love of our own Heavenly Father. How the pleasures of the world do not give true happiness. We are usually connected to the prodigal son in the story, since we all sin and need repentance. But this is the thought that occurred to me this morning:

Life is a lot longer than one chapter.

Reading about this man’s pride, fall, and repentance only takes a few minutes. Experiencing the parable ourselves can take our whole lives.

I’ve tried to write several blog posts since June. Updates on my life, thoughts on religion, masculinity, acceptance. But I’ve never managed to feel satisfied with any of them and they remain drafts, months later. In more recent weeks I’ve stopped myself from writing publicly about what’s happening to me, using journal entries instead so I can write without worrying about how people will think about what I’m saying. Maybe if I don’t try so hard to make some profound statement I can write something that actually sees the light of the outside world.

I’m in a funk, again. Loneliness and depression battle within me when I’m alone. Temptation and worldly lusts assail me in my weakness and I fall. All I want to do right now is go back to sleep and ignore all responsibility. Maybe if I turn my brain off I won’t end up making all my usual mistakes.

Sometime this weekend I wondered whether I would be happier with my actions if my religious beliefs weren’t so strong. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of TV shows and movies where the gay guy manages to find happiness with friends or a lover. In these religion is often ignored, abandoned, or they “come around” and change their mind. I have friends who are trying the same kind of thing. I wonder sometimes if I was less shy whether I would be able to fall in love with some guy and live happily ever after.

But here’s the other thing I thought about this weekend. Maybe I’m beginning to truly decide that I will never have that kind of relationship with another man and I’m grieving. I don’t know how to explain it. But even in the middle of a funk, when things like right and wrong go out the window for a few days, the thought of actually living the kind of relationships portrayed in these shows just doesn’t feel complete. I’d constantly be fighting between two deep parts of myself. Neither side is going away. And the religious side is stronger. So although it hurts dearly, I think it’s finally sinking in.

So, how long do you think it took the prodigal son to get back home once he decided to go?