The crypto crash came like waves pounding on the rocks. -- Image by WorldSpectrum from Pixabay
A Modern retelling of the "Prodigal Son"
In the beautiful, but very small, town of Choteau, MT, lived Daniel, a successful owner of a coffee roastery. His two sons, Max and Ethan, helped in the business. Max, the younger, was… let's say "entrepreneurially ambitious" in the same way that a cat is "interested" in knocking things off your counter.
One Tuesday morning, after scrolling through a "10X Your Wealth With AI-Crypto-NFTs" TikTok thread, Max walked into the office, leaned on his father's desk, and said, "Dad, I've been thinking. Instead of waiting for my share of the business someday, could I get it now? You know… for investment opportunities?"
Daniel blinked slowly, the way only a father with 25 years of parenting fatigue can. Then, with surprising calm, he divided the value of the family business between his two sons. His only comment was, "Be wise and don't spend foolishly."
Ethan stayed and kept roasting beans.
Max cashed out, moved to Austin, TX, and rented a sleek, top-floor micro-apartment the size of a large walk-in closet.
Life was great. Max had it all — at least on Instagram. He quickly crowned himself a "Crypto Thought Leader" on LinkedIn. He invested heavily in NFTs — overpriced internet "collectibles" — including one series featuring pigeons… wearing Gucci belts. His online followers grew. Max, enjoying his success, spent lavishly on rooftop parties with gorgeous women, $18 oat milk lattes, and a virtual wardrobe for his metaverse avatar. But, along with all that, his credit card balance grew rapidly, too.
Then... the crash came. That marvelous "next-gen AI coin" he had happily bought into tanked big time. His NFTs were worth less than a coupon for free fries from a burger joint that no longer exists. His followers moved on to a new influencer named "BitCoinnie." And the rent was due.
Max ended up working gig jobs — delivering groceries in the rain, streaming late-night video game sessions for three viewers (two of whom were bots). At his lowest point, while eating cold instant noodles in a paper cup, he thought of home. Of the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. Of his father's lopsided smile.
"I'll go back," Max said to himself. "I'll tell Dad I messed up. I'll ask if I can just work in the warehouse. No perks, no coffee art on my cappuccino — just a job." He packed a suitcase and scraped up what little money he could find. Bought a bus ticket and started the long, about 48-hour bus ride home.
When Max arrived back in town, suitcase in hand, his father saw him from across the street and ran — yes, ran to meet him. No lecture. No "I told you so." Just a bear hug that smelled faintly of Colombian roast.
"Dad, I don't even feel like I should be called your son. I squandered everything, and I'm dead broke. Would it be OK if I just worked in the warehouse?"
"We will talk about that later, right now, welcome home, kid!" Daniel said.
"Go upstairs, shower up, and grab of my clean clothes, for tonight we are throwing a party in celebration of your return. Oddly enough, Ethan is already smoking a brisket."
From the kitchen window, Ethan watched the celebration start. He wasn't thrilled. He'd been here the whole time, holding things together, and now Mr. NFT Disaster was getting a welcome-home bash.
Ethan became quite angry. He called his father aside and complained, "Haven't I been here working hard all the time? Working like a slave to keep the business going! Why is Max, who deserted you, getting a party?"
Daniel put an arm around him and said, "Son, everything I have is yours. You've been here, steady and faithful, and you'll inherit it all. But your brother was gone, and now he's back — and that's worth celebrating."
That night, the lights from the roastery's windows spilled out onto the quiet street, warm against the cold Montana air. Friends and family joined in with music and dancing. The feast was pleasing to everyone, especially the smoked brisket.
Ethan walked up to Max and they hugged, "Welcome home, Max."
Daniel looked at his two sons, then tapped the knife handle on the glass, "Everyone, tonight we are celebrating the return of my son, Max. He went on an adventure that did not go as planned. We are so happy to have him back. Something for all to remember, when a loved one returns home and did not do as you instructed, love throws a party, not a lecture."
And somewhere in Austin, a lonely Gucci-belt pigeon NFT sat in a forgotten crypto wallet, wondering where it all went wrong.
Based on Luke 15:11-32 (The Prodigal Son)
Synopsis:
This story reminds us that no matter how far someone wanders, they can always come home. The heart of grace isn't about keeping score, but about forgiveness, restoration, and celebration when the lost return. Love doesn't lecture — it throws a party.
Tap to read the actual bible passage:
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