Dads, today is our day, but Father’s Day has somehow never been held in as high regard as Mother’s Day. Mother’s just have that certain something. After all, whenever you see someone holding a sign or mouthing “hello,” they’re saying, “Hi, Mom,” and usually not, “Hi Dad.” Now, I’m not complaining, it’s not sour grapes, but that’s just the way it is. I shared Erma Bombeck’s description of God creating mothers on Mother’s Day, and I’d like to share her description of God creating fathers.
When the good Lord was creating fathers, he started with a tall frame. A female angel nearby said, “What kind of father is that? If you’re going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.” God smiled and said, “Yes, but if I make him child-size, who would children have to look up to?” And when God made a father’s hands, they were large and sinewy.
The angel shook her head sadly and said, “Do you know what you’re doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails, or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats.”
God smiled and said, “I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day, yet small enough to cup a child’s face.” And then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.
The angel nearly had a heart attack, “Boy, this is the end of the week, all right. Do you realize you just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?”
God smiled and said, “A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle, or hold a sleepy hand on the way home from the circus.”
God was in the process of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer, “That not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?”
God smiled and said, “They’ll work. You’ll see. They’ll support a small child who wants to ride a horse to Banbury Cross, or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill.”
God worked through out the night, giving the father few words, but a firm, authoritative voice, eyes that saw everything, but remained calm and tolerant. Finally, almost as an afterthought, he added tears. Then he turned to the angel and said, “Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?”
Some of us can identify with Bombeck’s characterization, either because of fond memories of growing up with our own father, or maybe because we see ourselves as the father whose feet are too big to crawl out of bed when the baby cries. Whatever the reason, we’re here today to honor fathers.
But we must recognize that days set aside to honor particular people or relationships can also be painful days. For some, your relationship with your father was or possibly is still strained and holds painful memories. For others, it’s a mixture of joy and sadness, for you have fond memories of your father, but that’s all you have now, because he is deceased. I also think of the fathers who mourn the death of a child and how Father’s Day holds a certain emptiness. I also think of a good friend of mine who desperately wants to be a father, but he and his wife are unable to conceive. Father’s Day is a yearly reminder of that void.
Recognizing that today brings together a multitude of emotions, instead of praising fathers for their invaluable roles, or admonishing fathers to pick up the slack a little bit, I’d rather turn our attention to our Heavenly Father, and focus on His characteristics as the perfect parent, celebrating who he is.
For some of us, our relationship and understanding of our Heavenly Father is about love and comfort, peace and security. But for some, that’s not the case, whether you’re struggling with who God is and how you relate to him as your Heavenly Father, or whether you’re somewhere in between, the image of the father in today’s scripture is one of the more pure, grace-filled descriptions of who our Heavenly Father is. Some have referred to this parable as the greatest short story in the world.
It focuses on several family dynamics of which we can identify. It deals with rebellion, sibling rivalry, alienation from family, the consequences of foolish living, the joy of reunion, and the power of forgiveness. Each one of these topics provides us with ample thought and discussion, but instead of considering this the parable of the prodigal son, I’d like for us to think of it as the parable of the loving father. On Father’s Day, may this serve as the model of our Heavenly Father, and as a model for us as fathers.
Our story opens with a son asking his father for his share of the inheritance. In the first century, you really didn’t have a say as to who got what. The older son got two-thirds, the second son got one-third, and if there were more siblings, they had to rely upon their older brothers. This second son knew his share was one-third. It was not uncommon for a father to divide his estate before his death, especially if he was ready to step back and turn things over to his sons, but it was uncommon for a son to ask his father for his inheritance. This request was a slap in his father’s face. His son was saying, “Thanks, Dad, but I’d rather have your estate than you.”
His father knew that some lessons could only be learned first-hand, so he granted his son’s request and gave him one-third of the estate. His son lives fast and loose, foolishly squanders all of the money, and finds himself feeding and living amongst pigs. Jesus then tells us “he came to himself.” Jesus believed that so long as a man was away from God, he was not truly himself; he was only truly himself when he was on the way home to God. Coming home on Father’s Day.
Coming home means different things to each of us. It takes me about four and one half hours to go home. As I exit off I-95 onto Hwy 58 and travel the back roads of eastern NC through Wilson and on in to Kinston, I always experience a warm, excited feeling as I approach town. As I make my way along roads lined with corn and tobacco fields, the first sight of home is my high school, which sits on the northern side of town. I see the baseball field and remember spring afternoons playing shortstop. I see the football field and think back to Homecomings and playing football. Riding past the high school means I’m less than ten minutes from home, and for me, coming home represents love and warmth, for I know my parents are waiting for me.
The loving father in today’s scripture is waiting for his son. We don’t know how long he’s been gone. It’s doubtful there’s been any correspondence between father and son, but the son shamefully and embarrassingly drags himself to his father, hoping to be welcomed as a slave. I imagine his stomach is in knots as he rounds a familiar bend, knowing that this home lies just over the next knoll. He’s muttering to himself, going over and over what he’s going to say, but there’s no need, for his father is on the lookout, anxiously awaiting the return of his son.
I remember a Saturday night during my senior year in high school when I was visiting friends in a near-by town about 40 minutes from y home. I had told my parents what time I’d be home, but I left a little late and was going to be cutting it close. I felt as though I could make up the time on the highway. I was driving a little faster than I should have been, when I was pulled over by a police officer. Now I was really going to be late.
I sat in the officer’s patrol car while he verified my license and registration. He asked what I was doing out this late and where I was going. I told him I’d been visiting friends in Greenville and was on my way home to Kinston. He told me to slow down, spared me the ticket, and sent me on my way. I got back in my truck, breathed a sigh of relief, and began replacing everything I had pulled out of my glove box while searching for my registration. Not paying attention, I ran off the road, hit a sign, and ended up in a ditch. This was in the days before cellular phones, so I thought, “This can’t get any worse. I’m dead meat now.”
I sat there, wondering what to do, as I was still about 20 miles from home. In what seemed like forever, a car pulled up behind me. I thought, “Great, here’s my friendly police officer,” but luckily it was a friend of mine on his way home. He had a chain in his car, and he pulled me out. My truck had sustained some damage, but it was drivable. By the time I collected myself and got home, it was close to 3:00am.
My parents were up, and my mom was crying. She just knew something terrible had happened, and I braced myself for the onslaught I was about to receive. The onslaught turned out to be hugs of thankfulness and the instructions to get to bed, because we had church in the morning.
My parents had been on the lookout, anxiously awaiting my return, just as the father anxiously awaited the return of his son. Our Heavenly Father also awaits our return. Coming home to the Heavenly Father means turning the corner and finding him waiting, ready to run out and greet you.
Coming home to the Heavenly Father also means forgiveness awaits. Too many homes are bound by strife and tension and an inability to forgive, but thankfully, coming home to the Heavenly Father means forgiveness. When the prodigal son returned home, not only did he find forgiveness, but he also found restoration. His hope was to be treated as a slave, but he was restored to the family.
He was given a robe, which signified honor. He would not be treated as a slave; he would be restored as a son. He was given a ring, which signified authority. Signet rings were used to seal letters and important papers, and the giving of one’s signet ring to another was granting someone the power of attorney. He was also given shoes. Shoes were not given to slaves, but to family members. Each item that was given to the son served as a symbol that he was being restored to full status as a member of the family.
Coming home on Father’s Day means forgiveness, but not forgiveness as a favor, but forgiveness that involves complete restoration. President Lincoln was asked how he was going to treat the rebellious southerners when they had finally been defeated and had returned to the Union of the United States. The questioner expected that Lincoln would take a dire vengeance, but he answered, “I will treat them as if they had never been away.” Our Heavenly Father treats us the same way when we come home. He anxiously awaits us and offers forgiveness that promises complete restoration, as if we’d never been away.
And finally in coming home to the Heavenly Father, we’re never forced or manipulated. The younger son “came to himself” and made the decision to come home. The same has to happen for the older brother. The father knew that his oldest son was angry and bitter, but the father went out to meet him as well. He told him, “All that is mine is yours. My welcoming home my son in no way diminishes my ability to love and care for you. I am no less your father, because I am his father as well.”
He invites his oldest son to join in the celebration, but the father doesn’t twist his arm; the father doesn’t manipulate him, and that’s the end of the story. We’re left hanging; it’s unresolved. No nice, comfortable ending.
It’s left that way, because you write the ending. Coming home is about a Heavenly Father who loves you so much that He is anxiously waiting for you, so he can shower you with forgiveness, and completely restore you to His family. Happy Father’s Day.
