This morning, we continue our journey through the parables of Christ. As we’ve noted before, a parable is a short story which is intended to teach or illustrate some spiritual truth. Parables are small but powerful, and this is demonstrated by their familiarity. Few of us, I imagine, could explain the structure of the Epistle to the Romans, or identify the main themes of the book of Hebrews. But everyone recognizes the story of the prodigal son, even people who have never set foot in a church. It’s only twenty-two verses long, yet it’s one of the best-known tales ever told. And there’s a reason for that. Like all of Jesus’ parables, it contains pure, condensed wisdom – about God, about ourselves, about life. It’s simple, and yet profound at the same time. It can’t be reduced to a slogan or a motto; you can’t capture its essence on a bumper sticker. It’s intended to stimulate thought, and reflection, and meditation.
And so, this morning, my goal is not to give you "the meaning" of the parable. My goal, rather, is to open it up; to unpack it; to highlight the main themes and examine the significance of its details. My hope is that you’ll be motivated as a result to use the parable as a tool for self-examination and self-assessment. Because the parables, like all of Jesus’ teachings, have a purpose. They are intended, not merely to deepen our understanding, but more importantly, to change our lives. To transform our thoughts, and attitudes, and motives, and behavior. To enable us to know God, and direct us in living lives honoring and pleasing to him. And so as we proceed, I encourage you to open yourself up to whatever God may wish to say to you this morning through this story. Will you do that? Good. All right. As we read in the gospel of Luke, chapter fifteen:
Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ’Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. he longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
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! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ 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.
The son said to him, ’Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
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. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ’Your brother has come,’ he replied, ’and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ’Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
’My son,’ the father said, ’you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’"
The first two verses are full of meaning. "There was a man who had two sons," Jesus begins, and immediately we know that this story has something to do with relationships – between a father and his sons; between an older brother and a younger brother. The introduction also alerts us to watch for the contrasts between the two sons. We know instinctively that they are going to make different choices in life, and that the story is going to examine those choices.
Jesus goes on, "They younger one said to his father, ’Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them." I find it amazing that the father complied with this outrageous demand. He certainly was under no obligation to do so. It must have grieved him terribly, knowing that his son’s intention was to leave home, perhaps forever. It must have broken his heart, knowing the pain and sorrow his son would likely bring upon himself by his foolish choices. It had to dishonor him, and shame him. But in spite of all that, he granted the request. Why? Because he knew that although he might force his son to stay, he could never force him to return his father’s love. Love can’t be compelled. It has to be freely given. And so his father gave him what he wanted and watched him go. I can imagine the scene: the father, with tears streaming down his cheeks; the son, happy and excited at his newfound wealth and freedom; not even noticing. And it’s the same for you and I. If you turn your back on God, if you reject his love and go your own way, he probably won’t try to stop you. He won’t run after you, calling, "Come back! Come back!" No, as much as it grieves him to do it, he’ll allow you to leave, and allow you to suffer the consequences of your decision. He’ll watch and wait until that day when you finally "come to your senses", and repent of your sin, and go to him of your own free will.
Now, under Old Testament law, the portion of the estate which would pass to each of the sons was defined by statute. It wasn’t up to the father to determine how much they would receive; it was fixed by law. And so the younger son was legally correct in claiming that a percentage of his father’s wealth was coming to him eventually. However, he had no right to demand that his father distribute his wealth prior to his death. Imagine how your father would feel if you sat down with him and said something like this, "Dad, you’ve done pretty well for yourself over the years. You’ve worked hard, saved your money, invested wisely. And now, in addition to this house, you own land, you have stocks and bonds socked away in an IRA, you’ve accumulated a significant amount of cash value in whole life insurance – all in all, by my estimates, you’re worth over half a million dollars. And so, what I’d like you to do is liquidate enough of those assets to give me my inheritance now. After all, you seem pretty healthy; it could be twenty or thirty years before I get my share otherwise, and I just don’t want to wait that long. I want the money while I’m still young enough to enjoy it." Most parents would be shocked and offended by such a proposal, and rightly so. I expect that the father in the parable was too. Why? Because it showed that the son valued his father’s "stuff" more than he valued his father. He loved his dad’s money more than he loved his dad. His father was just a checkbook to him, a bank account, a list of assets, and his primary concern was how to get as much out of him as possible, as quickly as possible. He cared little for his father’s love, because it had no "cash value".
That this was the son’s attitude is confirmed by what he did after he got what he asked for. First of all, he sold off everything he received – land, livestock, buildings – converted it all into greenbacks. The parable tells us that he "got together all he had". Perhaps this was a farm that his father had worked to establish and develop his whole life – fields he had cleared of rocks, barns he had labored to build, animals he had fed, and watered, and tended. But none of that meant anything to the son. To him, the farm’s only value was its monetary value, and what it may have meant to his father was immaterial. I can imagine how the father might have felt, because my own father-in-law is a farmer. He served in World War II, and as soon as he got back, he bought a farm. He’s 87 now, and semi-retired, but since 1945 he’s farmed that land; cutting down brush, digging drainage ditches, building barns, shearing sheep, slopping hogs, and spending untold thousands of hours on the seat of a tractor. Now, let’s say that for tax purposes, he decided to sign the title to his farm over to his four children right now. How would he feel if we turned around and immediately sold off our portion of the farm, land that he’d worked and sweated over for almost six decades? And what would that say about our attitude toward him?
And what else did the son do? he left. "Not long after that," the parable tells us, he set off for a "distant country." He wanted to get as far away from his father as possible; he wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps there was conflict, or some tension between he and his father. Perhaps he was tired of living under someone else’s rules, and craved freedom and independence. Or maybe he just wanted to get off the farm and see the world. At any rate, as soon as he could get his things together, he left.
Why? Because the son wanted the material benefits of sonship, but without the obligations and responsibilities of relationship. And that’s the world’s attitude toward God. People want God’s blessings, but they don’t want a relationship with him. They want to enjoy all the good things that come from God, but without God Himself. Oh, they might show him some superficial respect – go to church occasionally, for instance. But fundamentally, they want nothing to do with God. They don’t want to submit to his authority; they don’t want to follow his rules; they don’t want him involved in their lives. They want to run their own lives their own way, without any interference. And so spiritually, they put as much distance between themselves and God as possible.
Let me ask you a question: What do you want? Do you want God, or just his "stuff"? Do you want a relationship with a heavenly Father who loves you, or do you just want whatever you can get out of him, while keeping him at arm’s length? The younger son in this story made several errors. He thought that he was missing out by remaining with his father; that in order to live life to the fullest he had to leave his father’s household. He thought that indulging his desires would bring freedom, when instead it only brought him into slavery. But the most foolish mistake he made was in valuing his father’s wealth and possessions more than his father’s love. And so he gave up something of very great worth and settled for something of relatively little worth. Are you making that same mistake?
Let me ask it a little differently: what is your greatest desire? Why are you a Christian? Why are you here this morning? Is it because you want to know God? Is it because you want to experience fellowship with him? Is it because, more than anything else in the world, you desire to have a love relationship with Christ and with the Father? Or are you a Christian mainly because you want the things that you expect to receive from God – a happy marriage, or material prosperity, or good health, or nice friends, or a pleasant life, free from tragedy and loss – and if you get those things, then you’ll be content, even if there’s little or no relationship? You see, a lot of people say they want God, and even think they want God, when what they really want isn’t God at all. They don’t want him, they just want what they can get out of him. But our attitude should be like that of Paul, who wrote,
"I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ"
– Philippians 3:8
Jesus himself said, in his high priestly prayer in John 17, that, "this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." (John 17:3)
The great reward of being a Christian, the great goal of the life of faith, isn’t merely to obtain good things from God. It’s to know God Himself; to experience His love; to live in relationship to him. Everything else, by comparison, is just "rubbish". So let me ask you again: Are you seeking to know God? Is that your primary occupation in life? Are you giving thought to how you can grow spiritually? Are you spending time in prayer? Are you reading God’s Word? Or are you in a "distant country," spiritually, content to enjoy His gifts without knowing him? If so, the good news is that he’s waiting for you. You may have abandoned him, but he hasn’t abandoned you. You may give very little thought to God, but he’s thinking of you. He’s watching, and waiting for you to return to him, ready to welcome you with open arms, ready to receive you, and rejoice over you, without a single word of reproach or condemnation.
That’s the good news. But first, we have to go through the bad news, as the prodigal son did. Because there can be no reconciliation without repentance. And very often, repentance comes only as a result of suffering.
For a while after the son left home, everything was great. Life was one big party. Wine, women, and song. Eat, drink, and be merry. But then reality hit. First, his money ran out, and along with it went his so-called friends. In a case of poetic justice, his party pals treated him the same way he had treated his father – as nothing more than a source of funds. When the gravy train ran out of gravy, they were gone. And just then, the economy tanked. Everyone was out of work. No one had anything to eat. The best job he could get was feeding pigs. For a Jew, this was the ultimate degradation, because swine were considered unclean animals. Jews were forbidden to eat pigs; even to be around them, or have contact with them, was something detestable. And not only had he become a waiter in a swine restaurant, but they were eating better than he was! He was starving! If he thought he could get away with it, he would have dropped down on his hands and knees and buried his face in the trough right next to the grunting pigs! What a pathetic, disgusting picture! How different this was than what he had imagined when he left his father’s house! Where was his great "freedom" and "independence" now? And this is when, the parable tells us, he finally "came to his senses". Standing there in the field, hungery and covered with mud, surrounded by smelly, dirty pigs, he woke up from his moral fog.
[H]e said, ’How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ So he got up and went to his father.
This is a picture of repentance. First, he admitted that he was in bad shape. He didn’t gloss it over, or sugarcoat it, or try to make it sound better than it was. He was starving to death. Period. Second, he recognized the cause of his problem, which was his own sin. He didn’t blame his friends, or the economy, or bad luck. Third, he acknowledged that he had no claim on his father. He no longer had any right to be called his father’s son. And so fourth, he determined to seek grace. Not justice; justice would keep him in the pigpen. But grace; undeserved favor, unmerited goodness.
And that’s just what you and I have to do. When we find ourselves distant from God, we need to repent. We need to acknowledge our sin, we need to turn around and return to God. We need to confess our unworthiness, and seek his grace and forgiveness. The good news is that when we do this, when we turn to God in heartfelt repentance, he is absolutely certain to receive us. As the apostle John says,
"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." – 1 John 1:9
Likewise, Christ promises that "whoever comes to me I will never drive away." – John 6:37
Personally, I find this extremely encouraging. I think we often have this idea of God as remote and inaccessible; not just geographically, but emotionally. We see him as this dour, somber figure, like one of the faces on Mount Rushmore. Grand, majestic, unchanging. And I fear that sometimes we view forgiveness, likewise, as primarily a legal transaction. We incur a debt by sin which we are unable to pay; Christ pays the penalty for sin by his death; God accepts his death as payment for our sin. All of which is true, but if we focus solely on the legal aspects of justification, the whole process can seem sterile, and bloodless and emotionless. God becomes some kind of celestial bureaucrat stamping our debt as "paid in full". But the reality is far, far different, and it’s expressed by what we see here. God is not emotionless. He is not reserved. He is not made of stone. On the contrary, when we repent, he’s overjoyed! He’s filled with compassion and love. No matter what we’ve done, no matter how much we reek of sin, as soon as we turn to him, he runs to us and throws his arms around us and embraces us! He celebrates! He calls everyone over and throws a huge party! Why? Because he loves us with a boundless, limitless love; an extravagant, exuberant love. Even the love of a human father for his own children is at best a weak analogy to the deep, abiding love and affection which our heavenly father has for us. He’s not ashamed to admit it, he’s not reluctant to show it, and nothing we do or say can diminish it in the slightest. If we belong to Christ, then we are his, and he is ours, forever and ever. But we have to repent. Or else we’ll stay in the pigpen forever, and never experience his love.
Well, it would be great if the story ended there, but it doesn’t. Because now the elder brother enters the picture. He’s offended that his father is giving the prodigal son such a reception. He becomes angry.
’Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
What’s the problem? The problem is that the older son, at the end of the story, doesn’t love his father any more than the younger son did at the beginning. He has been toiling, and working, and following his father’s commands for years, but why? Out of love? No. Out of nothing more than duty and obligation. Just like his brother, he also valued his father mainly for what he stood to gain from him; the only difference is that he was willing to follow the rules, and work and wait for it. This attitude made him self-righteous, and bitter, and resentful, and it all spills out here, as he rebukes his father and accuses him of acting unjustly. That’s the way it is with people who are moral and religious, but whose religion isn’t motivated by love. They view all their devotion, and service, and sacrifice, and self-denial as works which ought to earn God’s favor, which ought to merit God’s approval and reward. They don’t repent, because they see no need of repentance. They don’t confess their unworthiness, because they see themselves as being worthy. They don’t seek grace or mercy, because they view themselves as deserving of blessing, rather than guilty of sin. And so when God blesses and welcomes others, whose sins are more notorious, they consider him to be unjust. They are blind to their own sin, to their lack of love to God, and to their lack of love for their neighbor.
Here’s the question I’d like to leave you with: Which brother are you? The truth is that we all exhibit characteristics of both the younger and older brother at times. But which are you most like? The prodigal, going your own way, giving God lip service but content to keep him at a distance? Seeking his benefits but neglecting to seek a relationship? If so, then I urge you to repent, even this morning. Confess your sin. Turn to God. And he will coming running to take you into his arms. Or are you the older brother, outwardly obedient, faithful, serving in the Lord’s vineyards but inwardly resenting his demands, and bitter at his unjust treatment? Keeping his commandments, but having no love for God and no love for his people? Looking down in contempt on those who haven’t maintained as high a standard of morality and piety that you have; angry when God accepts and blesses those who have fallen? If so, I urge you to repent also. Confess your sin; confess your self-righteousness, your pride, your anger, and resentment and bitterness. Confess your lack of love. I guarantee that God will receive you just as joyfully as he did your brother. And then come on in and join the celebration.
(For an .rtf file of this and other sermons, see www.journeychurchonline.org/messages.htm)
