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You may have heard the story of the Prodigal Son.
A father has two sons. The younger one takes his inheritance early, blows it all, ends up broke and desperate, and eventually comes crawling home. The father sees him from a distance and runs to meet him. He then throws him a party, kills a fatted calf, and the whole neighborhood celebrates.
And the older brother? He’s been out in the field working, doing what was expected, and when he comes home to the sound of music and laughter, he won’t even go inside.
“I’ve served you faithfully all these years. I never once disobeyed you. And you never threw a party for me.” (Luke 15:29)
Even though this is a biblical story, I’ve often heard it referenced. When people tell it, they’re always talking about that one in the family who disappears, reappears, and somehow still gets the warmth, the excitement, and the wide-open arms when they walk through the door.
But underneath their story, if you listen closely, there’s something else. Envy masked as frustration. And the unspoken question:
Why do I carry all of this worry, responsibility, the weight of being the one who stayed, and they still get the party?
Personally, I haven’t had to face this the way some of you have. I don’t have a brother or sibling to blame. But I deeply recognize the other brother’s role.
Because there’s something the story doesn’t fully say out loud: both sons made a choice.
The younger one chose to demand, to leave, to spend, and to return. We see his arc clearly. But the older son chose too. He chose to put his head down, do what was expected, avoid creating conflict, and to say nothing about what it cost him.
I’ve played that role—the one who swallows it, who doesn’t argue, who shuts their mouth, and keeps moving. If you’ve ever struggled to speak up, use your voice, or say what’s actually true for you, even when it would be easier not to, you know it too.
But here’s what I think the Prodigal Son parable is really pointing at:
The role you play in your family is not fixed. It only feels that way because you’ve been playing it for so long that it starts to feel like your identity.
So how do you shift out of that role?
Anger.
Anger is one of our greatest emotional allies when it comes to addressing injustice, defending ourselves, and setting boundaries.
When the older brother gets angry at the father, it’s a signal. It’s the moment the role cracks open and something true tries to get out.
The question isn’t why the younger brother gets the party.
The question is: what do I actually want, and have I ever let myself say it out loud?
For me, the work hasn’t been about confronting a prodigal sibling. It’s been about confronting the part of myself that learned, somewhere along the way, that keeping the peace was safer than telling the truth. That staying, being the dependable one, the quiet one, and the one who holds it together, is its own kind of leaving.
So I’ll ask you what I’ve had to ask myself:
What role have you been playing?
And did you choose it, or did it choose you?
~
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