Title: Finding Our Way Home
Intro: There is more than one lost son in this story.
Scriptures:
Joshua 5:9,
Joshua 5:10-12,
1 Corinthians 5:17-21,
Luke 15:1-3,
Luke 15:11-32.
Reflection
Dear Sisters and Brothers,
There is a scene I cannot shake from my mind. A father stands on the edge of his property, shielding his eyes from the setting sun, looking down the dusty road. He has been doing this every evening for years now. The servants know not to disturb him during this ritual. It is his sacred moment of hope, his daily act of faith that today might be the day his son returns home.
And then one evening, it happens. A figure appears on the horizon. The shape is different – thinner, hunched over, limping slightly – but a father knows his child from any distance. Before his mind can even process what he is seeing, his feet are already moving. The dignified estate owner, respected throughout the region, hitches up his robes and runs – runs – down the road toward his broken son.
This is where we find ourselves in Luke 15, in what might be the most beautiful story Jesus ever told. "While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him" (Luke 15:20).
Two brothers. One father. A family wounded, then healed – well, almost healed. That is the story we are exploring today.
Let us set the scene from Luke 15: "Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, 'This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them'" (Luke 15:1-2). Jesus responds by telling three parables – a lost sheep, a lost coin, and finally, this lost son.
But as we will discover, there is more than one lost son in this story.
The younger son's request was breathtaking in its audacity: "Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me" (Luke 15:12). In essence, he was saying, "I wish you were dead so I could have your money." No wonder he headed to a distant country. How could he look his father in the eye after such a request?
And yet, the father gives him what he asks for. No lecture. No guilt trip. Just the freedom to choose his own path, even when that path leads away from home.
We know what happens next. The money runs out. A famine hits. And suddenly the young Jewish man who once had everything finds himself feeding pigs – unclean animals to a Jewish person – and longing to fill his stomach with the pods they were eating.
Rock bottom has a way of clearing our vision.
"When he came to himself," Jesus tells us in Luke 15:17, the son realized what he had lost. Notice those words: "he came to himself." Until that moment, he had not been himself at all. Sin does not just separate us from God; it separates us from our true selves.
So he rehearses his speech: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands" (Luke 15:18-19). It is a good speech – honest, humble, and realistic. He does not expect to waltz back into sonship after what he has done.
But he never gets to finish that speech because his father interrupts him with embrace, with kisses, with tears, with a robe, a ring, sandals, and the command to prepare a feast. "For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!" (Luke 15:24).
This is what grace looks like. Not earned, not deserved, not even requested – just lavishly given.
In 2 Corinthians 5, Paul writes, "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" (2 Corinthians 5:17). The father does not just forgive his son; he restores him completely. The robe covers his filthy clothes. The ring symbolizes his place in the family. The sandals mark him as a son, not a servant. And the feast? That is pure joy.
But our story does not end there, because there is another son. The elder brother, coming in from the fields, hears music and dancing. When he learns the reason for the celebration, Luke tells us, "he became angry and refused to go in" (Luke 15:28).
His words cut deep: "Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!" (Luke 15:29-30).
Did you catch what he said? Not "my brother" but "this son of yours." He has disowned his own brother.
The elder son's problem was not that he stayed home. It was not even his obedience. His problem was that he saw his relationship with his father as transactional, not relational. "I work, you reward." He had turned sonship into slavery.
And this is where the story takes a turn we might not expect. The father goes out to the elder son just as he went out to the younger son. "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found" (Luke 15:31-32).
Notice what the father does here. First, he assures the elder son of his love and his inheritance. Then he gently corrects him: "this brother of yours." He is restoring the relationship not just between father and son, but between brother and brother.
This is what makes the parable so powerful. It is not just about individual repentance and forgiveness; it is about the restoration of community. The father wants both sons at his table.
In the book of Joshua, as the Israelites finally enter the Promised Land after forty years in the wilderness, God says to Joshua, "Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt" (Joshua 5:9). And immediately after this declaration, "The Israelites kept the Passover... On the day after the Passover, on that very day, they ate the produce of the land" (Joshua 5:10-12).
The Israelites' first act in the Promised Land was to celebrate a meal together. Their wilderness wandering was over; they were home.
In the same way, the father in Jesus' parable wants his family reunited around his table. But here is where the story leaves us hanging: we never learn if the elder brother goes in to join the celebration. Jesus leaves that part of the story unfinished because he is speaking to the Pharisees and scribes who are grumbling about his welcome of tax collectors and sinners.
The question Jesus poses to them – and to us – is this: Will you come to the table?
We all find ourselves somewhere in this story. Maybe you are the younger son, having wandered far from home, ashamed of choices you have made, afraid you have gone too far to ever come back. If that is you, hear the good news: the Father is still watching the road for your return. No matter what you have done, no matter how far you have wandered, the way home is always open.
Or maybe you are the elder brother, faithful on the outside but harboring resentment within. You have done everything right, or so you think, and it seems unfair when grace is extended to those who have not earned it. If that is you, remember the father's words: "You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." The father's love for the younger son does not diminish his love for you.
The truth is, at different times in our lives, we might be both brothers. We all need the father's grace. We all need to extend that grace to others.
Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5, "All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us" (2 Corinthians 5:18-19).
This is our calling: to be reconciled to God and to one another. To welcome others to the Father's table as we have been welcomed.
There is a little detail in Jesus' story that is easy to miss. When the father runs to meet his returning son, Luke tells us he "put his arms around him and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). The Greek word used here for "kissed" is actually an intensified form of the normal word for kiss. It means he kissed him again and again, fervently, without restraint.
That is how God welcomes us home – not with reluctance or reservation, but with abundant joy.
Remember the setting of Jesus' parable: "Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling" (Luke 15:1-2). Jesus is showing the Pharisees that their grumbling about who is included in God's kingdom reveals that they, like the elder brother, are actually standing outside the celebration.
The irony is striking. Those who considered themselves closest to God were furthest from understanding His heart.
This is the scandal of grace – it is extended to all, deserving or not. And sometimes those who think they deserve it most understand it least.
But grace does not mean there are no consequences for our actions. The younger son still lost his inheritance. His choices caused real pain to himself and others. Yet grace offers a new beginning despite those consequences.
As we journey toward Easter, we are reminded that reconciliation comes at a cost. In 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul writes, "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." The father in the parable absorbed the cost of his son's rebellion – the lost inheritance, the damaged family name. In a far greater way, God absorbed the cost of our rebellion through Christ on the cross.
This is why the father could run to his son without reservation. This is why he could restore him fully. The price had already been paid from his own resources.
And this is why we can come home to God without fear. The price has been paid through Christ.
After the Israelites entered the Promised Land, Joshua 5:12 tells us, "The manna ceased on the day they ate the produce of the land." They no longer needed the wilderness provision because they had come home to a land of abundance.
In the same way, when we come home to the Father, we find that what He offers is so much better than what we sought elsewhere. The younger son thought freedom meant distance from his father, but he found himself enslaved far from home. True freedom was waiting for him in his father's embrace.
The elder son thought relationship with his father meant earning his approval through service. He did not realize that his father's love was already his, freely given.
Both sons needed to discover what it truly meant to be children of their father.
And so do we.
So where do you find yourself in this story today? Are you the younger son, needing to come home? Are you the elder son, needing to join the celebration? Or are you somewhere in between?
Wherever you are, the Father is reaching out to you. The table is set. The celebration is ready.
This is the heart of the gospel – not that we make our way to God, but that God makes his way to us. Not that we clean ourselves up enough to be acceptable, but that God embraces us in our brokenness and makes us new.
As we prepare our hearts for Easter, may we hear again the Father's invitation to come home – whether that means returning from a distant country or simply crossing the threshold from the field into the feast.
The Father's table has room for all of us. Will you take your place?
Let us pray.
Heavenly Father, thank you for your relentless love that pursues us no matter how far we wander. Thank you for your grace that welcomes us home not as servants but as sons and daughters. Help us to receive that grace with humility and to extend it to others with generosity. Bring healing to our relationships with you and with one another. And may we all find our place at your table of celebration.
May the heart of Jesus live in the hearts of all...Amen.
