Jesus and the Red Corvette
Mar 10th, 2008 by John
In 1953 a father had two daughters* in their early twenties. The twenty-two year old one said to her dad, “You’ve got money invested for me. I know. And I can’t wait ’til you die. Cash it in now and give it to me.”
The dad did just that. This younger daughter traveled to New York City and lived in Greenwich Village, meeting new bohemian friends, going to poetry readings, art shows and avante gard plays. She explored the endless joys of the human body with men and women alike. She was known as the life of the party…until she got the disease. Her money ran out; her “friends” faded out like music at the end of a sad song. Soon she found herself delirious and lying emaciated on a dirty gurney in a ramshackled free clinic.
“God, what’s happening to me?” Crying and lonely, she whispered to no one, “Am I dying? Oh, damn, am I going to die?” Her mind like a scared little bird flitted around. ”Dad’s stupid dogs have it better’n me. He takes so good care of everything…Oh God, if I just had the guts, I’d get out of here, go home and admit to dad that I am nothing.” She quietly cried. “I am nada. Zip. I’m a total wreck.”
She did get out. And scraping up some pennies, nickels and dimes, she got a one-way Greyhound bus ticket to Stanleyville, Ohio.
She got off the bus and without her knowing it, an old high school friend saw her. The whole small town knew her “story.” The friend called the dad. Weary from the bus ride and clutching her paisley bag, she started walking toward her street for home.
Scaring her witless, the loud horn of a big black Cadillac stretch limo blared. She turned to see her dad jump out and run to her. He was crying and laughing at the same time. He grabbed her, hugged her and kissed all over her head as she stammered, “Daddy, I…, I am so sorr….” Pulling her into the plush back seat of the limo, her dad yelled to the driver, “James, take us to Cleveland now! Honey, we’re going to get you some new clothes and new shoes.” Fumbling in his pockets, he got some keys, “Here. These are for you. They’re keys to a red Corvette. Chevy has just come out with them. You’ll love it, Babe. Oh, I just can’t take my eyes off of you!”
“But Daddy, I am…I did some…”
“James, call the country club in Stanleyville. Tell Franco to pull out the stops. I want the best for my girl. Call WCPR and invite the town. We are going to have a big parrr-dee!”
“But, Dad…I…I….”
“Sweetie, you look so beautiful…”
Later, dressed like a movie star, she and her dad drove up to the country club in her new Corvette. They walked arm in arm into the large banquet room. People were everywhere, and the smells of prime rib and seasoned food filled the room. Some folks were shocked to see her and they were gossiping behind her back. Her dad shouted, “She’s home, people! And she’s mine!” The gossiping stopped right then and there, never to be heard again.
Then her older sister made her slithering entrance. Dressed in funeral black and hanging on the arm of the dashing junior vice-president of the town’s biggest bank. The sister avoided her and hung in the crowd casting scornful, even hateful looks her way. Finally her sister came over to the father.
“Daddy, you really, really disgust me. This…this tramp of yours…just look at her. God, she looks sick. I bet its gonnorhea. Clothes and shoes and make-up can’t hide the fact that she is a gutter whore. And Corvette?! You never bought me a Corvette. I’ve been a faithful daughter. I went to college. I’ve got a good job. Me and Richard are engaged…and he’s Methodist just like you and Mother. What has gotten into you? This all sickens me…and Richard here. Right, Richard?” Shrieking a little louder, “Right, Richard?!” Richard, embarrassed and silent, looked down at his shoes, avoiding the father’s happy eyes.
The father said, “Aw, c’mon, Honey, you can have a Corvette. I didn’t know you wanted one. You kept talking about that Rambler you wanted. I got that blue one for you. Remember? But, your sister, I…, we thought she was dead. And she’s not! And she came home. She’s here. We had to celebrate…big time. Come on, Honey, join the fun. Your sister’s home. Dance with me.” Silence.
“Dance with me.”
* * * * * * *
* I am grateful to Jesus for prompting this story because it is based on his original in Luke 15.
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Very nice contemporary retelling of the old tale. No matter how many times you tell it or in what context it is a powerful story full of things we can learn.
Brilliant!
I love your creativity and imagination.
Carl,
Even as I was writing it, I felt the same thing…this is an ageless story. Some think it is the heart of Luke’s Gospel.
Grace,
)
Thanks, friend, for your kind words. As I mentioned to Carl (above), this is a story for all time…it fits everywhere (I mean of course Jesus’ original. I’m a copy-cat
“DAD! You KNOW that dancing in public is unacceptable behavior! What are people going to think of you with all of this partying? What about your reputation?”
(They asked His disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and ’sinners’?”)
Beautiful - and a dream of mine that I hope is one day fulfilled in my own daughter’s life.
Ken,
Funny. I made him Methodist not Baptist so the dancing thing wouldn’t be a factor.
Former leader,
I glad to be an encouragement to your dream. God bless you!
Beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes.
How can we ever complain when our Father shows the same grace to others thet he has shown to us?
Fred,
You’re the second friend who commented that the “parable” brought tears to your eyes. Can you imagine the tears when Jesus told the original story in a shame-based culture much harsher than ours? I bet it was amazing.
I found myself in the middle of this story, and I found myself in the eyes of the older sister. I wonder why I was so averse to the idea of buying the girl a new corvette? I have been so taught in my Christians circles that cars are often the epitome of evil, and that expensive cars are the most evil of evil. I am glad that you used that particular item as the robes in this modern parable. It reminds how utterly extravagant the father was for the sake of his daughter.
Danny,
Aren’t we all somewhere in this story? It’s interesting to hear how you were “taught” about the evil of (expensive) cars. I think we feel only a little of the scandal that Jesus’ original story provoked.
John,
You are excellent at retelling this wonderful story.
I love you blog brother.
It always encourages and gives me strength every time I read.
Keep up the great work brother.
May you have a blessed week!
preacherman,
Thanks so much. I am glad that I can be an encouraging fellow-pastor. God bless you, too.
Wow, the prodigal daughter really was a tormented soul! I mean, who in their right mind would pine for a silly ol’ Corvette when Daddy would be just as willing to buy her a Porsche!! Sheesh!
Seriously, nice job of updating this wonderful lesson, John…AND in putting the gender twist into it too.
Now, I wonder what would’ve possessed you to see the story that way. Hmmmm….
Zman,
Ferrari?…did you say Ferrari? Can you believe the older daughter wanted a Rambler? Yikes. Thanks for the encouraging words.
John, thank you for being “a copy-cat” in such an original, up-to-date way. Thank you for putting that “shameless move of self-promotion” over at Scot’s blog. Thank you most of all for adding “Dance with me” at the end. Isn’t that what our father wants most, to dance with each of his children, returned prodigal or uptight never-strayed, until the only thing either of them can remember is dancing with their love-filled father?
You have retold this ageless tale in a truly remarkable and eye-opening way.
Bob Brague (rhymes with plague
)
I am glad you picked up on the ending “dance” image. I wholeheartedly agree with you. There will be a whole lot of exurberant dancing in glory! Why not begin now?
I love the story and know it very well. Great to have daughters in it showing the same need for the Father.
Thanks.
Richard,
Yep. In my *update* I wanted to make it gender-inclusive. Galilean fathers did have daughters, too, even though the cultural dynamics were different. Thanks for stopping by and commenting. God bless!
All of us, prodigals… And what a picture of God. Thank you Jesus. Thank you, John.
Hey, Ken.
Thanks for the”high five.” I am glad you liked the post. Yep, we are all prodigals.