The Parable of the Runaway

This is an adaptation of Jesus' parable of the lost son. Similar to the drama they did at Encounter, but I think their version was even better. Still. Here it is.

Mel woke up at 3am. She didn’t normally. In fact, her stepmother reckoned they were lucky if they saw her before 3pm on a weekend. Her stepmother had always judged her unfairly, and Mel had had enough. There was a reason for waking up at 3am. Everything was quiet, and she could get away without being seen.

She dressed silently, slipped downstairs. Her stepmother’s handbag was lying by the doorway. She picked it up, weighed it in her hand. She’d need the money. Still staying completely silent, Mel removed the money – fifty quid – from the purse and slipped it in her pocket. She’d be able to get to London now, lose herself amongst the maze of streets and flocks of homeless people.

She left silently and walked to the train station. It wasn’t too far into the city. She slipped through the back alleys, feeling a slight pang of remorse as she moved through the familiar streets. This was her home, had always been. She’d miss her dad she guessed, but ever since she’d come, Mel had felt unwanted, shoved out the way.

She bought her ticket from the man on duty, a man she’d never seen before and yet was giving her this passport to a new life, and she boarded the train. At exactly 3:57, dead on time, the train departed for London.

Houston station was pretty much deserted, but the first thing she did was go to the Starbucks in the corner and morosely down a coffee. She had no idea what to do next. All she knew was that she’d left the hated stepmother for good.



When Mark, Mel’s father, awoke at half past seven, as he always did, he checked Mel’s room. When he saw that she wasn’t there, he panicked and called the police. They informed him that there was very little they could do – she was sixteen and if there were no signs of struggle, they weren’t prepared to spend much time to locate her.

His girlfriend, Amanda, just smiled, told him they were better without that ‘no-good
waster’. Mark ignored her pleas to leave things be and went straight to the station. The ticket man recalled serving a girl who looked somewhat dazed and close to tears, said that she’d taken a ticket for London.

That was where Mark went, on the next train. He called his office, told them he had a family emergency, called Amanda, and asked her to stay home in case Mel came back. Not that he thought she would do, not immediately.



The weeks passed. Nobody knew what had happened to Mel, the pretty young redhead who’d disappeared in London. Amanda declared that she’d probably become a prostitute. And then, seven weeks after she’d disappeared, there was a knock on the door. A teenager with short, untidy red hair and a wary look in her eyes was stood on the doorstep.

Mark answered it, got the surprise of his life when he saw his daughter, his beloved daughter, standing there, hanging her head. He did not wait for her to speak, merely swept her up into his arms and held her tightly. Amanda, alerted by the doorbell, came down the stairs.

“What do you think you’re doing? That good-for-nothing waster ran away, stole from me, and now you’re just welcoming her back, like it never happened.”

“This beautiful ‘waster’ happens to be my daughter, and if you can’t accept that I love her, I think you’d better leave.”



Ok, I admit I changed things a little, but I think it retains the original meaning. God doesn't care what we've done, how far we run, or anything like that. He just wants to see us come home again.