BREAD IN MY FATHER’S HOUSE
Lk 15:11-24
A preacher was once invited to an old aged home to conduct a service for the residents. He spent some time agonizing over what he was to speak about. He finally settled upon a topic. The talk was focused upon bringing comfort to the hearts of these dear old folk. Looking into their faces, he started his presentation with “You belong…”
Before he could continue any further, a ninety-year-old woman sitting near to the preacher in a wheelchair startled everyone by shouting in her high wheezy voice with both distress and longing, “To whom?” This reminds me of a song released in 1968 by Simon & Garfunkel, “Old Friends,” which is introduced by a series of interviews with individuals at a frail care facility. The last interviewee is asked, “Are you happy here?” and she responds with “It's just having a room, my own room, and my own home.” A place where we belong. A place where we feel safe. A place where we feel welcome. A place we can call home. This is a basic need of each individual, from Angola to Australia, Barbados to Burundi, China to Chile, Denmark to Diepkloof, from Goodwood to Glasgow – from the 1st world to the 3rd world. From students to lecturers, learners to educators, employees to management, street children to business tycoons; it is a need we all experience. Those of you who are familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs will remember that he lists these factor - home, feeling safe, security - as some of the basic needs common to all societies. Yet, despite these being said to be among the basic needs of humanity, thousands, if not millions, roam the streets without permanent shelter. Vast numbers go to sleep each night without a crumb of bread having crossed their lips that day; not a drop of water to quench their thirst. Images flicker across the TV screen of the starving masses of Somalia; images of children with distended bellies; endless streams of refugees headed on a long and winding road to who knows where; emaciated mothers who strive to provide some nourishment for their wide-eyed, starving babies, but their attempts frequently prove to be futile. Hunger, eyes staring into the distance, emptiness, expressionless faces on the brink of despair.
From Riches to Rags This brings to mind a familiar story. The classic saga of a gentleman who went from riches to rags. A story of a rich man reduced to the lowest level of society due to some ill-advised decisions, unwise investments and shady deals. A story of a man who fell prey to unscrupulous friends and greedy associates. A story of a man who had been surrounded by the most beautiful women money could buy, but who found himself deserted by them, one by one. Is this a product of the fertile imagination of a Hollywood scriptwriter? A sample of the best or the worst of the tabloids? No, friends, a story found in the dusty scrolls of the prophets, scratched out with a quill on a parchment scroll by a doctor of years gone by. A story found in the Bible; a story told by Jesus Christ; a story that might well have been written about my life—your life. The story of the lost boy.
“Jesus also told them another story: Once a man had two sons. The younger son said to his father, "Give me my share of the property." So the father divided his property between his two sons. Not long after that, the younger son packed up everything he owned and left for a foreign country, where he wasted all his money in wild living. He had spent everything, when a bad famine spread through that whole land. Soon he had nothing to eat. He went to work for a man in that country, and the man sent him out to take care of his pigs. He would have been glad to eat what the pigs were eating, but no one gave him a thing.”
(Luk 15:11-16)
Countless sermons have been preached about this parable. Many preachers have graphically and eloquently related the saga of the disgruntled youth that was dissatisfied with his lot at home. The impulsive lad, young and restless, who demanded from his parents his share of the estate while they were still alive. The impetuous youth that chose to go to a far country—as far from his parents as he could get. Far from the “restraints” of home. Far from the "restrictions" imposed upon him by “unreasonable” parents. Far from the demands made upon him by the “unreasonable,” “outdated” and “old-fashioned” thinking of narrow-minded “geriatrics old fogeys” who needed to “get with the programme.” How often have we listened as the story was unfolded to us? The youngster squanders his money “with riotous living.” vs 13 (KJV) “reckless living” (NEB) “wild living” (NIV). He eventually finds himself with his friends decreasing in direct proportion to his diminishing wealth. And then famine strikes. He ends up with no friends, no home, no shelter, no money, no food, no-where to go but to a pigsty. What a tragic tale! He had had the world at his feet, and now he finds himself with his feet buried in the mire of a pigpen. At the snap of his fingers, people would come running, ready to obey his every command, and now he finds himself in a position where no one would even lift a finger to offer him of the pigswill. From the life of royalty to that of riffraff. From the life of a prince to one where even the plight of pigs was preferable to the pitiful, parlous, pathetic predicament he found himself in! From riches to rags! How could he? we may ask. What makes a person reject the comfort of home – to move from freedom into bondage; from sight into blindness; from light into darkness; from forgiveness into guilt. How could he?
How quick we are to climb onto our high horses of moral superiority. We wag our sage heads of retroactive wisdom. We display our intelligent sense of judgement fueled by the infallible experience of hindsight! But hold on to your horses for a minute! How often do we
Fool ourselves into believing that a good job; a new Mercedes ML63 AMG, a new girlfriend, a different wife or partner, a triple-figured annual salary, that promotion we’ve been eyeing, being found among the bold and beautiful, having the days of our lives amongst the young and the restless – we fool ourselves into believing that these things are worth sacrificing our principles for
Fool ourselves into believing that fulfillment can be found operating beyond the parameters of God’s guidance and commandments
Fool ourselves into thinking that moving outside of the sphere of God’s instruction will bring self-actualization, a state of self-discovery, an establishing of one’s own identity, a creation of one’s own space
Fool ourselves into thinking that happiness can be found outside of the will of God?
In a Far Country
As we contemplate this story, how many of us are in a far country? How many of us have chosen to leave our Father’s home? How many of us are chasing that illusive butterfly of love, fame and fortune? How many of us have compromised our beliefs in search of some transient materialistic symbol of success? How many of us find ourselves with our feet firmly ensconced in muck, surrounded by the stench of swine—the only company we are fit to have as a result of the choices we have made? Is the story of our lives perhaps mirrored in the tragic tale of the lost boy of Luke 15? A tragic tale, indeed, if that is where it ends! But the bible tells us “When he came to his senses,” vs 17 (NIV) when he realized his foolishness, when he looked back and saw the folly of his ways, when it dawned upon him how much he had lost because of the stubbornness of his own heart, “when he came to himself” (KJV), he said, “How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father.” There is bread in my father’s house! Going Home
In my father’s house, there is shelter, food, protection, and safety! My basic needs will be met! The need for survival will be more than adequately provided for! The servants have more than they can eat! The hired men have food to spare! And so he scrapes the mud off his feet as best as he can. He pulls the soiled, threadbare garments a little tighter around his gaunt, emaciated frame. He runs his fingers through his tangled, matted hair, feels the stubble on his chin, ignores the stench that clings to him. He stumbles through the gate of that farm without so much as a backward glance—and he heads towards home! He’s going home, friends! Home—where he belongs! Home—where he will find acceptance! Home—where a forgiving father stands at the gate with tear-dimmed eyes, longingly searching for any sign of movement that might indicate that his boy is coming home! Home—to where a faithful servant has been diligently caring for the fatted calf, making sure it will be ready for when the master’s son would be coming home! Despite the fact that the son had broken his parents’ hearts, despite the fact that he had squandered their hard-earned savings, he was their son—the father had never given up on him! His boy was coming home! He was coming home because there was bread in his father’s house! But, friends, what was awaiting him? Not bread! No, bread was not good enough for a son! Luke 15:17-24 17 When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 "But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. (NIV) An overjoyed father; the robe of forgiveness; the shoes of acceptance; the ring of authority, of rulership—of sonship! The fattened calf and the laden tables! Dancing servants—a celebrating household and community! All he had wanted was some bread—and look what he got! More than bread!!
And had he done anything to deserve it? Had he paid back what he had recklessly squandered? Had he made restitution? No, friends! He had come home! Henri Nouwen, a Dutch theologian, defines home as “the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” The son had said, “I will arise and go to my father...” And that was enough for a loving father. Bread in Your Father's Home Have you found yourself on that slippery road to nowhere?
Remember, there is bread in your father’s house.
Have you rebelled against what you learned while sitting on your mother’s knee?
Remember, there is more than bread in your father’s house.
Have you set out for that far country in the mistaken belief that your happiness and self-fulfillment will be found at the end of that deceptive, elusive rainbow?
Remember, there is more than bread in your father’s house. Do you find yourself in the company of swine, gagging on the smell of your own sinful putrefaction?
Remember, there is more than bread in your father’s house. Remember, there is not only bread in your father’s house—you have an overjoyed father; the robe of forgiveness; the shoes of acceptance; the ring of authority, of rulership—of sonship, of daughter-ship! The fatted calf and the laden tables! Dancing servants—a celebrating household and community are awaiting you! Today, make that decision. Take that first step. Move from bondage into freedom; from darkness into light; from guilt to forgiveness; from blindness into sight; from the chains that hold you fast. Freedom from your prison – whatever that prison might be. Your heavenly Father stands waiting with open arms to welcome you home. No condemnation – only a Father who says – Welcome home.
Do you need to come home?
