Today is my son's 17th birthday. As I sit here, I think about him and all the experiences of life that have brought him to where he is today. Thank you Lord God for my son. Then I find myself praying for Jihadi John...... and Jihadi Bill and Jihadi Erik..... all those young men who've dedicated themselves to a cause. Some of them might be of a similar age to my son. Not evil, just swept along - some of them passionate, some of them plain scared, some hardened by life's experiences, all of them so young.
My mind is taken back to last year and the play my son studied for his GCSE Engish - 'All My Sons' by Arthur Miller. I went with him to see the play and was really challenged by its message. In a nutshell, a man's business has produced faulty aircraft parts which has resulted in the death of some young airmen, including his own son. The play is a comment on the ease with which we are prepared to compromise our integrity for our own benefit. Wow, Lord, help me to make the right choices when the crunch comes.
And these young men fighting in some far corner of the planet................ I'm not even sure exactly where it is.............
they are all my sons.
Painting: The Return of the Prodigal Son - Rembrandt.
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