“The Cost of Coming Home”
Luke 15:11–32
The Prodigal Son
There are few stories Jesus tells that feel more familiar than today’s. There’s family dynamics. There’s parenting issues, kid issues. Life issues. There’s greed. Anger. Disappointment.
For most of us, we’ll see some aspect of us and our family’s in this parable told by Jesus.
This is one of the most popular of Jesus’ parables. And I wonder if it’s because we wonder how many of us can identify with the parable of the prodigal son?
Maybe we’ve been the mom or dad in this story. Maybe we’ve been the younger son, or the older son? Maybe we’ve been on all ends of the spectrum.
So many of us know what it’s like to experience rejection, disappointment and heartbreak from people who say they love us.
The parable is found in Luke 15:11-32, the 3rd book of the NT. Instead of simply reading this to you, I found a video depiction of this parable. I’ve cut it and tried to edit it . . . to shorten it. It takes a little liberty with the dialogue. But I believe the point Jesus was making is evident.
Let’s watch the video - - - -
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We’ve heard it so many times that we almost miss the weight of it. That’s why I thought a video may help.
This is a powerful message from Jesus, but it’s too easy to rush to the embrace too quickly. We want to skip to the robe and the ring. Instead, we need to sit with the story long enough to let it search our hearts and spirits.
Jesus said - - - - “There was a man who had two sons.”
And immediately we know this is about more than family. Somehow, we’re involved. There’s more to this than it being called a story, it’s a metaphor or hyperbole for us. It’s about you and I.
The younger son doesn’t storm out in a rage. He doesn’t suddenly disappear. He wanted his independence. He wanted control over his life.
And nobody was going to tell him what to do or how to live. Have you been there? I’ve been there. It’s empowering and it’s fun . . . . . . for a minute.
So, he asked for his inheritance. Which, in that culture, was essentially saying: “I want what’s yours … but I don’t want any part of you.”
It’s relational severing disguised as financial independence. Could this be a clue into who you and I are?
Oh, but, I’m not talking about our family relationships, or about our desire for financial independence, I’m talking about you, me and God.
We don’t wake up one morning and decide to run from God. We’ve talked about . . . we drift . . .
We ask for blessing without surrender.
We ask for freedom without spiritual formation.
We want the fruit of the tree, without doing the work.
We want the harvest, without planting a seed.
It’s the illusion of freedom. It’s a blast, for a time. And at the very same time we’re drifting.
We end up in a famine . . . and that famine, those dark days expose what we trusted. You see, we don’t sprint from God. It’s drifting, kinda falling asleep, dozing. And it’s so easy for this to happen.
The son wants independence. He wants financial freedom. He wants it all on his terms. Are we really all that different?
In that culture this was an outrageous request. Notice the language the son used. Give me what’s coming to me. I don’t want to wait for you to die. I want my inheritance NOW. And in Jewish culture, the younger son would have received 1/3 of the estate.
The son would rather live as if his father were already dead. He doesn’t want the relationship. He wants to do his own thing, than respect the honor of his family.
And this is intentional. This isn’t a momentary lapse in judgment, it’s premeditated. He rebels against his father, the family name, and disrespects him.
The father lets him go, he doesn’t chase after him. Rebellion isn’t conquered by physical restraint or control, but by teaching the truth which often comes through suffering the consequences of life.
The son goes to a far country. Sometimes the far country is geographical. Sometimes it’s internal. We can sit in church, we can worship . . . and still be in a far country. I’ve been that person. So many of us have done it.
The son thinks he's escaped a rigid, demanding and structured life. He’s off to a land where nobody knows him and he can be free.
Think about small town living. Ever want to run away so nobody would know who you are? You drive too fast, say something wrong . . . and word gets back to your home.
The son doesn't understand he’s replacing a loving father with a cruel master. Nor does he understand that by spending all of his money on reckless living, he’s buying fake friends and fake, temporary love. It’s a poor substitute for life.
But he would rather be a slave to sin because it feels freer than being a child of a loving father. It’s what Paul told us in Romans 6:16 - - - -
16 Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey,
either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness?
Do you see Paul’s point? We are going to follow someone or something. Following sin leads us to be slaves to sin, but following God leads us to righteousness.
In fact, the Greek term describing his lifestyle as reckless in Luke 15:13 is a-sotos. It’s important to grasp this word because some people want to say we really don’t know what he did was that bad. Some believe he gave his money to help others and was really extravagant. But that’s totally wrong!
The word a-sotos is only used for this one phrase in the Bible. It means riotous banquets, drunken revelry. Which led to squandering his inheritance. This is important because this is give us a revealing look at the son’s rebellion and the depth of the father’s grace.
The son lived a reckless, loose, riotous and extravagant life away from home. He blew through his money . . . quickly.
So, the term prodigal literally means to spend money wastefully and extravagantly.
We assume he’s younger, he’s not married. He’s not fully mature, which we’d all agree with. Yet, he believes he’s ready to go into the world and make his mark.
The father did the unthinkable. He agreed to sever the relationship. His son will leave and maybe never return home. Maybe he’ll find his way, but the odds are against him. Not with the attitude he has going in.
Many of us have been on that end of the spectrum. The parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle who says good-bye, not knowing if we will see that child again. And if we’re to be honest, we walk away with a broken heart.
We’ve been involved in broken relationships, we’ve severed some and we’ve been on the receiving end. It hurts. We may hide it and mask it, and we try to shrug it off.
But there’s loss and in many respects there’s no way to account for it. It doesn’t compute in our hearts, spirits and minds. We’ve been wounded to the core of our being! That’s true for the father in the parable.
Notice that Jesus doesn’t dwell on his reckless living. We really don’t catch what this reckless living is. His older brother states it was prostitutes. But we don’t really know. Maybe there’s the local gossip of the village. But there’s no social media posts of him.
He freely spent his money and it flowed out quickly. And maybe we can identify with the younger brother because we’ve been there too. On occasion, we’ve spent more than we had and we paid the price for it. We’ve been reckless as well.
And just as quickly as we hear about the reckless living, it’s over. And the story shifts.
“There arose a severe famine.” Jesus doesn’t over dramatize it. He simply includes that as one of the backdrops to the story.
But we know what happens when there’s a famine. When there’s an economic downturn. When there’s a depression or recession. The famine exposes false security.
His money runs out. The friends, or should we say acquaintances disappear. The illusion of freedom collapses. And here is one of the most honest lines in Scripture in verse 17 - - - -
“He came to himself.”
As we move towards Easter, this is the season where we are supposed to learn more about ourselves. The season of Lent is about self-reflection. A bit more on the introspection side of life. It’s about the Spirit gently saying to us and to the younger brother as well — — “This isn’t life. You’re not really living . . . Come home.”
He’s in a place no honorable Jew would be. He’s feeding pigs. According to Leviticus they’re forbidden to eat. A good and respectful Jew would never be caught near a pig farm, let alone take care of them. Finally, he comes to himself. He realizes the gravity of what he’s done.
And notice in verse 16, he’s longing to eat those pods the pigs ate, but NOBODY GAVE HIM ANY. Do you see that? Nobody! Not a person took pity on him. He was used up! Good for nothing!
Ever get used by a supposed friend? You know what it feels like. That’s the younger brother. And He comes to his senses . . . . this isn’t life. I’m not living. I need to go home!!
And notice the father still isn’t chasing after him. The father’s waiting. He’s not indifferent. He’s ready for the son. He’s watchful.
Now the son’s trying to figure out how to return home. The hired workers have it better than he does. Maybe somehow the father could forgive him, and bring him back simply as a hired hand.
Don’t even call him son. He does NOT deserve to be called a son. Maybe some day, but definitely not now. He’ll work his way back to sonship.
So, he prepares his apology. “Father, I have sinned…” He plans to negotiate his return. He does not expect restoration. He expects probation.
And is that how we approach God? God I have sinned. I don’t expect you to take me back in, but just keep me on the outskirts of your kingdom. Give me a taste of your presence. Remind me that I’m still yours. Hire me back.
Just don’t turn away from me. I need you, but I don’t expect you to cleanse me and make me whiter than snow. Just a quick rinse will get me started. Get some of the stink and dirt off and I’ll be thrilled. I’ll come back … but I don’t deserve to belong. Hire me back as a servant.”
But then something shocking happens - - - -
20 While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.
Patriarchs didn’t run. Their robes were long and they didn’t lift them. They didn’t expose their legs in public. They didn’t embrace humiliation. But this father does.
And before the son can finish his rehearsed speech, the father interrupts with grace.
Grace is free for the son. But not costly for the father.
The inheritance had already been divided. The resources already diminished. The dignity already strained. Humiliation of the family name. Grace was definitely costly.
The father now does the unthinkable, he bestowed 4 gifts to the son - - - -
22 Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.
23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate.
What does it mean?
The Best Robe: Not just a robe, but the best robe! It symbolized covering the son’s filth with righteousness, honor, and dignity. The father covers the son's shame with a new status of honor.
The Ring: represents restoration of family authority and inheritance rights. Imagine that? It signifies the son is empowered to act on behalf of the father, again.
The Sandals: signifies the son is not a servant or slave. Servants often went barefoot. The son is fully restored and welcomed back into the household, as a son . . . not as a servant. AND
The Fatted Calf: represents the joy and communal celebration of redemption and life. It marks the transition from death back to life. In a sense, it was a sacrifice to show what was dead, is now alive. A life for a life.
The Father has taken on all of the costs. And if we’re willing, we discover, forgiveness is never casual. It’s costly.
Now the parable takes another turn. The older brother’s walking towards the house and hears there’s a party!! But there shouldn’t be a party. It’s not a holiday and the father’s still grieving his younger stupid son.
He hears the unthinkable. His brother’s returned home and the father’s having a party for him. The older brother is livid.
How does my father have a party for that stupid, wasteful, reckless, shame-filled brother? You know what, they’re both stupid. And you know the saying . . . ‘you can’t fix stupid.’
He meets his father and the father is excited, he’s dancing and celebrating. The father assumes the older brother should be just as excited.
The older brother stands outside. He did not run away. He’s always done the job. He never broke the rules. He’s always been obedient.
But he’s just as bad as the younger brother. He’s distant, arrogant, pride-filled. He’s envious, judgmental, abides by a works righteousness. I get esteemed by earning it.
He tells the father - - - -
29 Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command ...
Do you see what’s missing? It’s so easy to miss. He doesn’t say, I have loved you. Instead, he says, I served and obeyed.
He has proximity without intimacy. He’s near the father but doesn’t know the father.
And when grace disrupts what we believe is fair, we resent it. It’s not fair that he was restored. The older brother has that mind set and we often do as well.
Restoration is subjective. It’s who I want to let in. I’m going to forgive those whom I want to forgive.
But we’re learning that restoration is not only for those in the far country who live recklessly. It’s also for those who stay close by, but their heart is cold.
So, the father pleads with the son, come. Isn’t that the call of Jesus? Come to me! All who are weary and heavy burdened. It’s the same song from Jesus. We can play it over and over again. . . come!!
Celebrate that your brother who was lost, is now found. We thought he might be dead. He’s alive, he’s home! Come, celebrate!!
Do you see the pattern? The father moves toward the rebellious younger son.
And the Father moves toward the resentful older son.
He initiates both reconciliations. The Father is God.
He does not wait for perfect speeches. He doesn’t expect perfection. All we need to do is take that 1 step towards Him and He comes running to us.
We can easily fall into the trap of being one or the other without realizing it. We work and work and find ourselves becoming resentful. It’s not a conscious decision, it seems to creep up on us. Kinda like drifting
And we need to be shaken from that way of thinking. But more so, we need our heart awakened.
And some of us may be like the younger son, we want our freedom. We want it at all costs. We’ve hurt people along the way and we’re living with the pigs and we don’t know how to get back. We’ve rehearsed our apology, but pride is keeping us away.
It doesn’t matter where you are . . . it’s the call from God, again and again,
COME HOME! COME HOME, child! You are loved. I sent my Son for you. You’re mine. You’re my child, holy and dearly loved. I’m waiting for you to open your heart to me once again.
Come, I have the best robe, my ring, my sandals and a feast is waiting. All you need to do is come.
Before we close . . . . Before we move forward . . . .
Let’s sit for just a moment. Let’s take a bit of time to ask God who are we in this story.
Maybe it’s asking - - - Where have I drifted?
Where is God inviting me home?
How can I come back?
How can I forgive those who have hurt me?
I can go on, but this is your time with the Lord.
And then I’ll close us in prayer.
(silence)
Father, Some of us are tired of the far country.
Some of us are tired of serving without joy.
Some of us are just tired.
Thank You that all it takes is our turning towards You ...
And suddenly, there You are, running toward us.
Thank You that grace is stronger than shame.
May we come home and trust in your grace.
And begin in us a deeper surrender
as we journey toward you and the cross. Amen.
