Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Explore 1.5M+ audiobooks & ebooks free for 30 days

    From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister
    The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister
    The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister
    Ebook80 pages2 hours

    The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister

    By A. J. Sieling

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    In this series of essays, exvangelical A. J. Sieling takes us on a deeply personal journey out of the darkness of a religion that could never see her. Drawing from the Parable of the Prodigal Son, she shares her story—not as the celebrated youngest son, nor as the begrudging elder brother, but as the sister: invisible, overlooked, and ultimately liberated.

     

    Weaving through the pain of being unseen and taken for granted in a community that preached unconditional love, these essays explore resentment, trauma, and the path to healing. With candid reflections, marked by raw honesty and bold choices, Sieling maps out the emotional landscape of leaving behind a world where she was always present but never acknowledged.

     

    This book isn't about proving points or winning arguments. It's about tracing feelings back to their roots and finding freedom in the realization that sometimes, invisibility can be a gift — the very thing that allows you to walk away, to heal, and to find happiness, with or without religion. 

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAriele Sieling
    Release dateMar 31, 2024
    ISBN9798224613151
    The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister
    Read preview

    Read more from A. J. Sieling

    Related to The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister

    Related ebooks

    Trending on #Booktok

    Related podcast episodes

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Prodigal Son's Less Famous Sister - A. J. Sieling

      Introduction: The Prodigal Sister

      There’s a parable we learned in Sunday school, called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. In it, a wealthy father has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, and upon receiving it, goes out and wastes it all until he is reduced to working for a pig farmer. When he finally eats his pride and comes home, his father welcomes him with open arms and a party.

      The older son, however, becomes jealous of the younger son, who received his inheritance, got to live life wildly, and wasted every cent, but was still welcomed by their father. The older son grows angry, and says, You never gave me shit, despite the fact that I stayed home, did everything you said, and was the child you wanted me to be. The father tells him to be grateful his brother has returned home.

      My Sunday school teachers taught me that this parable was primarily about god’s unconditional love. It was about how anyone who returned to him, despite their sins and misbehavior, would be welcomed with open arms.

      And of course, christians believe that everyone sins, so everyone needs to know about this unconditional love, right?

      But even as a kid, I felt bad for the older son.

      This father, who is representative of god, and who supposedly is showing unconditional love for his wayward son, is certainly not showing unconditional love toward the older son.

      Because here’s the thing: the older son’s complaints are absolutely valid!

      Many retellings of the story I heard, framed the interaction as though the older son was complaining about the party and food. But what he’s really saying is: Dad, it feels like you love him more than me.

      And his feelings are valid. Sure, everything the father has might also belong to the older son, but that’s not the same thing as being shown that you are loved, valued, and cared for.

      In every version of this story I read, I got the same impression: the father took his older son’s love and loyalty for granted, invalidated his feelings, and focused on the younger son.

      That is not unconditional love.

      But this parable still hits home for me, albeit in a different way.

      Because when I was a christian, that was the kind of love I felt from the church. The conditional kind.

      The church cared about everyone else, but not me. They cared about the sinners and the saints; they cared about the sick and the needy; they cared about those who had lots of money and those who didn’t.

      But not me.

      The one who was there every Sunday and multiple days during the week, working my ass off, volunteering, going on missions trips, and playing music in various bands (youth group, worship service, etc.). I set up chairs and took them down, carried equipment, set a good example for my peers, led bible study—hell, I even vacuumed the fricking rugs sometimes!

      But as long as I kept doing what they told me to do, no one seemed to notice me.

      It wasn’t just my church either. As I got older, moved out, and went to college, I went to dozens of churches, a few of which I worked hard to become involved with. But it was always the same story.

      No one cared about me. They wanted a body in the pew, sure. They wanted my tithe. They wanted my free labor.

      But ultimately, that’s all I was. Free labor and a few more dollars in the coffers.

      When I left, no one came after me.

      No one hunted me down.

      No one asked how I was doing.

      No one emailed me to say, Hey, I noticed you haven’t been in church lately.

      I was invisible. And I always had been. So when I disappeared, no one noticed. Not my peers, not my Sunday school teachers, not my friends’ parents or my Sunday school teachers, or my pastors.

      Once invisible, always invisible.

      The main argument I’ve heard in defense of this criticism is, Well, christians are only human. They can’t be perfect. Sometimes people fall through the cracks.

      Which means that out of the 2 billion christians in the world, and out of the thousand of them who went to my high school church, god didn’t call a single one of them to check in on me?

      So who fucked up? christians? Or their god?

      Or perhaps, it’s all just a big story someone made up, and more people added chapters to, and more people adopted as a belief system.

      All I know is that I took my inheritance—primarily trauma and my secret creative self—and walked away. And I haven’t looked back.

      The parable of the prodigal son talks about the older brother and the younger brother. But it never mentions the sister.

      Because she was invisible. To the brothers, to the father, and to god (if such a being exists).

      Being invisible hurt at first, but eventually I realized that perhaps my invisibility was really a gift. Because it made it much easier to turn my back and walk away.

      THE ESSAYS IN THIS book are explorations of feelings. That’s it.

      I’m not trying to prove a point and I’m

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 5