Intro
Today, Jesus tells us a parable, a story. You probably know the Parable of the Prodigal Son. And the point of the parable is simple: When the lost are found, you rejoice. Instead of being a spoilsport, looking down on someone else, you rejoice when a sinner repents, and you join the celebration. But of course the ticket into the party is repentance, something few in our day think they need, whether inside the Church or out.
Main Body
So what’s the parable? A prodigal son, a son without shame, insensitive and selfish, demands his share of the inheritance before its time. He says, “It’s my money, and I want it now!”
What is he is really saying? He’s saying, “Dad, I can’t wait around for you get old, decrepit, and die. It’s too bad you’re still alive. But I won’t wait around until you’re dead: I want my inheritance now. So give it to me.”
And for some reason, the father is gracious and gives his son the share of the inheritance. Then, with his wallet bulging, the younger son is off and running. He scampers off to the Las Vegas of his day; and what happens there, stays there. Or does it?
He connects himself with some fair-weather friends, drinks wine like it’s water, and women, “Well, hey, you only live once!” And like many young men on their own with too much money and no responsibility, he wastes it all. He lives it up, until the cash runs dry. When everything money can buy is gone, he winds up without friends, hungry and homeless in a pagan land. “Prodigal” is too good of a word for him: to speak bluntly, the boy is a no-good, thoughtless scoundrel.
But life even gets worse for this despicable son: a famine strikes the land! And no one gives the prodigal the time of day. But he finds a job--feeding pigs. What a picture: He feeds pigs that his religion forbids him to eat! He feeds them food that he can’t even eat for himself! Begging would be more honorable than tending swine in such a way.
And when the pig feed begins to look good, this young man suddenly comes to his senses. Like most rogues and con-artists, he has a shrewd and cunning mind. He is hungry and in shame, caring for a pagan’s unclean animals, while his dad’s servants are eating three meals a day at home!
So he hatches a plan. The son knows what buttons he will push. “My dad’s a softie. I’ll go to dad and sound religious! Yeah, I’ll say something like, ‘I’ve sinned against heaven and against you . . . blah, blah, blah . . . and then ‘pass the potatoes, buddy!’”
He has his speech all set and he sets out for home. It seems like the perfect plan. His father can save face; he will sound religious and look like a good boy, and even better, he’ll have some bread in his belly.
The younger son is simply acting in self-interest. Pig stench and pig droppings are now the center of his world. If he shows a little act of contrition, it’ll be a good bargaining chip, a chance to live in town, go home to his friends, and feed his stomach.
So the young son gets out of the mud and heads back to his father’s house, rehearsing his little speech as he walks along the road. But this is what the young son doesn’t know. The father’s been waiting for him all along. The father’s been looking for the son’s return--since the brat left home!
So as the son makes his way toward the village, he sees a figure running toward him. It’s his father! Setting aside all his dignity, the father runs down the road to embrace his corrupt and conniving son.
And when the son begins his well-rehearsed speech, the father interrupts it by hugging and kissing him. The son begins to break free of his father’s embrace long enough to continue his little speech. “Father, I’ve sinned against heaven and before you. I’m no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the son doesn’t even get a chance to finish his canned speech! Instead, the true moment of repentance comes for this wayward son!
The father, the dad, tells his servants to dress his son--still in his filth and poverty--with the best family robe he has. The son’s dirty finger is to be fitted with the family ring, the credit card of the day. His filthy feet are to be cushioned from the ground with sandals, which normally only the householders and managers of the estate can wear. Kill the fatted calf, start the barbecue, pour the wine, let the party begin!
And the son didn’t even get to finish his speech about working as a common servant, a day-laborer for hire.
This was pure grace, undeserved kindness, every drop of it. The father receives his rebellious son and restores him to sonship. The father doesn’t stop to lay down the law; he doesn’t lecture the newly returning son. We don’t hear any “I told you so’s.” Nothing but joy is abounding for the return of the son, the bum of a son who earlier wanted to con his dad.
So what do we learn from the parable? We learn who the father is, and what his nature is. The father watches for the boy, even when the son is still wasting his inheritance in wild living. The father’s the one who reaches out to his beaten-down and humiliated son, even before the boy gets home. The father interrupts the boy’s well-practiced speech, and makes him a son of the estate, even before the son can conjure up a good deal for himself.
The father acts! The father forgives! The father embraces! And then the father says, “Let’s celebrate! Kill the fattened calf, which I’ve been feeding and fattening for some great event.”
Wow, what a parable! But the parable still isn’t over. The father now must deal with the older brother, who comes in from the fields and raises a stink. The older brother hears the celebration, but has no intent to join the party. He won’t even recognize the younger son as his brother.
So the father goes out to see the older son--just as he had come out to meet his younger son on the road. The older son’s simmering resentment boils over: “This son of yours does all this yet you take him back and hold a celebration for him? After all I’ve done you never gave me so much as a little party with my friends. Now the son who has disgraced you comes back and you invite the entire neighborhood to see the family shame!”
The dad takes the initiative. He always comes out to meet his children. He pleads with the older son. “Come and celebrate. Rejoice. Your brother has come home. He was lost, but now is found.” This too is the grace of God.
But the older son won’t rejoice. His legalism has robbed him of his joy. He is the obedient son, the good son, always doing what his father wanted--not out of love, but out of duty and responsibility. “Look, all these years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command.” Look God, I’ve done my part, now you do Your part by blessing me. You fill in the blank.
The older son tries to justify himself. He defines his relationship to his father by the law, by commandment-keeping, by obedience. Can you not see it? The older son was just as lost as the younger one. The one who went to Church every Sunday was as lost as the lost son, because he wanted to curry favor by all the good he did.
A man had two sons. Both were sinners. One was lawless without the law; the other was lawless within the law. One rebelled openly; the other rebelled secretly. Both break their father’s heart. Both wind up in a far-away country: one physically, the other in his heart.
And yet, both receive the same caring and kindness, acceptance and love. Their father forgives them both, and receives them as sons and members of the family. Both needed to repent, to have a change of heart and mind, to change course from destruction toward life, to confess their sin, to receive mercy and love.
One son, in the end, repented. He confessed his sin against God and his father, and received his father’s undeserved kindness. And the other? Well, Jesus leaves the parable open-ended. Will the older son repent? Will he join the party? Will he rejoice because his brother repents? Will we?
When we try to define our relationship with God by the Law, by good works, by our obedience, we become the older brother. We become bitter, resentful, legalistic, and judgmental. When we try to earn our way into God’s favor, as if God is somehow bound to us by our obedience, we wind up hating Him and resenting His mercy. We will despise our pastor, and we will despise our brothers and sisters in Christ. We will refuse to rejoice in their repentance. And we will miss out on true table fellowship with Jesus.
Only as we repent can we rejoice in another’s repentance. Only as we see ourselves as sinners, who cannot save ourselves, can we rejoice that Jesus welcomes repentant sinners to His table. Only as we experience the Father’s embrace in our own lives, can we rejoice in His mercy to those around us.
The Father sent His Son, Jesus, to die for all people, for the worst of sinners, even for you and for me. He gives and gives and gives and gives until He is reduced to the point of being naked and laughable. He is reduced to being hung from a cross, as He dies and pronounces forgiveness for those who don’t even want to be forgiven.
Don’t you get it? You don’t deserve anything God gives you--and neither do I! It’s all a gift--unearned, undeserved from the love of God shown to us in Jesus Christ--a love that seeks all and suffers all to save all. That’s God’s way.
He makes Himself naked and laughable to forgive the impenitent, the callous, and the cruel, to change our hearts and make us like Himself. As the Apostle Paul says, “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Conclusion
Three words summarize the parable of the man with two sons: repentance, restoration, and rejoicing.
Repentance is the way God brings us into His banquet hall; it’s the ticket into the party. Christ our Passover lamb has been slain--and so the feast is ready. Confess your sins, and humble yourself before God. It doesn’t matter how good you think you are, whether you are the prodigal son or the obedient son. You need to repent. Don’t try to cut a deal with God. Receive His mercy.
Restoration: As the father restored his prodigal son, so he restores you. Once you were a rebel, lost and dead. Now you are a son or daughter of the Father, alive in Jesus Christ, and a co-heir with Him of eternal life.
And there is rejoicing. The angels in heaven rejoice over one sinner who repents. Jesus rejoices to welcome repentant sinners to His table. The lost are found. The dead are raised. Christ our Passover lamb has been sacrified. Rejoice. Amen.
