Luke 15:11-32 – How to Love a Wandering Child
Apparently, some kids had talked Mom into getting a hamster. They promised to take care of their pet, whom they named “Danny.”
Within two months, though, Mom was taking care of Danny. One day Mom decided enough was enough; Danny would be given to a new owner. She called the kids together to tell them. One child said, “I’ll miss him. He’s been around here a long time.” The other child remarked, “Maybe he could stay if he ate less and wasn’t so messy.” Mom was firm: “It is time to take Danny to a new home.”
“Danny?” the kids wailed, “We thought you said Daddy.”
Today we are celebrating Father’s Day, and the role that fathers play in the household. Over the next few minutes we will be looking at a father in the Bible, in a story Jesus told. This father, the father of what we call the prodigal son, is a reflection of our Heavenly Father. Hopefully, by the end of today, we will see better what it means to be loved by God. Turn with me to Luke 15.
An 8-year-old wrote about love and true love: “Love is when Daddy reads me a bedtime story. True love is when he doesn’t skip any of the pages.” I don’t know if it’s that simple, but we will see how God’s love shows itself in several ways, from this story. Let’s read: v11-12.
We can see that the father loved his child enough to give him free will. I suppose the dad could have prevented his son from leaving. He certainly could have withheld his share of the inheritance. After all, the son sinned greatly against his father, in 3 ways: 1) in Palestinian culture, asking for your inheritance early is in effect the same as wishing your parents were dead – that’s the deepest offense a child can dish out to a parent (2) part of what the father gave to his son was land – land was and is a valuable family heritage, and the son wanted it for himself (3) the son squandered his inheritance on wild living. You see, the land and the flocks were the family’s social security system. Aged parents made it through the end of their lives by living off the estate. So, not only does the son see part of the estate, but he also spends his family’s social security system in a far-off land. This was highly offensive to the father and the family.
But the father loved him enough to let him go. Folks, God lets us do our own things, because He loves us. There is evil in the world because God did not want to create robots but freely-thinking individuals. God lets us do what we want in an effort to show us the foolishness of sin and of going our own way. It’s because He wants us to return to him and serve Him out of love, not duty.
And that’s what happened – v13-20a. Even though it was fun for a while, self-indulgence eventually led to self-expense – he spent it all; he lost it all. And self-expense turned into self-degradation – imagine the shame he felt for a Jewish boy to want the food the pigs were eating. When he “came to his senses” (v17), he saw that he was not where he wanted to be. He developed a self-awareness, the feeling that you have to do something about your situation.
So he rehearsed a little speech, apologizing for his behavior. And he headed back home. And his father saw him. How in the world could his father have seen him at such a great distance? Because the father was watching and waiting. That is the love of our God – keeping His eyes on the lost, searching for the wanderers. We face the temptation to give up on the lost causes; meanwhile, God is still looking for them. That’s love.
So, what did the father do when he saw his son returning home? V20b. He ran to him. He pulled up his cloak, very undignified for a wealthy Palestinian, and ran to his son. The father was willing to look like a fool to show his love. And you know, some would say the same thing about our God. To leave the comforts of heaven, to come to earth as a human being, with all our frailties and weaknesses – some have said this was foolish. But it was the best way to show how much He loves us.
This scene says so much about the father’s love. It says that our Father comes to our defense – after all, if some men in the town had seen the boy first, they may have wanted to put an OT law in action and stone the punk. The story also says that the father kissed the son. A kiss was a sign of full acceptance and friendship. By kissing his son publicly, the father received him and restored him. Our Heavenly Father does the same – when we come to Him in humility and honesty, He fully accepts us and never brings the past up again.
Then the son tries to go through his speech – v21. But it looks as if the father interrupted him – v22. He cut him off. He wasn’t going to let his son wallow in self-pity any more than he had to. And he called his servants to bring 3 things: 1) a robe, which was a sign of familyship (2) a ring, which was a sign of family authority, and (3) shoes, which meant the boy was a free man – slaves didn’t wear anything on their feet.
In essence, the father restored his son to where he used to be. The father put the past behind him. Out of his love and compassion, the past was done away with, and the son was back where he belonged. And God does the same for us. Sometimes our sins carry consequences that God chooses not to erase, but they don’t have to affect our relationship with Him either. The Bible says there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. So, as long as you maintain a relationship with Him, walking in the light as He is in the light, God restores you.
Well, the story continues: v23-24. The father threw a party for the child’s return. That happened to us too. There was a celebration in heaven when we gave our hearts to Jesus and asked Him for forgiveness. God had been looking for us for so long, and we finally turned to him. Our coming home brought reason to celebrate. We brought joy to God’s heart when we came home. That’s the power of a prodigal returning home. It warms God’s heart.
But not all was bliss that day: v25-30. The older brother was a bit of a whiner. He was jealous of the attention his useless brother was getting. He had never wandered and had never had a party thrown for him either. He was resentful for the father’s grace to be lavished on someone so unworthy.
But the father came alongside and explained: v31-32. You see, the father wanted his other child to see that love. Sometimes, the “older brother” resents new converts. We want to keep God’s blessings to ourselves. We don’t think that others deserve God’s grace. It’s as if Jesus died for those who already have it together, instead of those who desperately need to come home. Folks, we are not to envy God’s grace to others. We are no worse off because God forgives others. Their forgiveness doesn’t negatively affect ours. We must not begrudge God of forgiving whom He chooses. There is enough of His love and compassion to go around.
This is an amazing story of how God responds to us. A compassion that looks beyond our image and sees our hurts. A forgiveness that looks beyond our mistakes and sees our value and worth. A mercy that throws His arms around us, even while we were still far away. A kindness that receives and restores us. A love that welcomes us home. And we are called to share that same love with others. That’s the love of a father, and that’s the love of our God.
I want to close today with a story that a lady named Jeannette Clift George told. “On a short flight from Tucson to Phoenix, as I got on, I noticed a young woman with her baby. They were both dressed in white pinafores. The mother was smiling, and the little baby was saying "Dada, Dada." And the little baby was darling. She wore a little pink bow where there would probably be hair pretty soon, and it was just darling. And they sat down opposite me. Every time anybody went by, the baby would say, "Dada, Dada."
The young mother said they were going home, and Daddy was waiting for them. I think they had been gone overnight--it was a long, long time like that!
Everybody was so happy, and we all enjoyed the little baby. The mother had a little Thermos with orange juice in it. She kept feeding the baby, a little fruit and then a little juice. It was a rough flight. Every time the baby cried the mother fed her a little bit more orange juice and a little more fruit.
I don’t know how to get out of this story without telling you the truth. The flight was very turbulent. (The flight was so rough that the attendants had to stay seated.) All of the fruit that had gone down came up. I think more came up than had gone down; I think there was more up than there was baby, and it was startling; the carpet was not in good condition. It was a mess.
Those of us on the opposite side of the aisle were not in good condition at all. We kept trying to tell the young mother it was just fine. We were handing her tissues and things. (Most of us have been babies.) It was a very loving time, but a mess. The baby was crying, and she looked awful. We couldn’t cry, but we looked awful. The mother was so sorry about it.
We landed. The minute we landed, baby was fine: "Dada, Dada." The rest of us were just awful. We began to get off the plane, and we all moved very carefully. I had on a suit, and I was trying to decide whether to burn it or just cut off the sleeve. Have you ever tried to get away from something really unpleasant and it was you? Well that’s the way we were. It was really bad.
I looked out of the plane, and there waiting was the young man who had to be Daddy: white slacks, white shirt, white flowers, and a little green paper. I thought, I know what’s going to happen. He’s going to run to that baby who now looks awful – I mean the hair and the pinafore were dreadful. He’s going to run to that baby, get one look, and keep on running, saying "Not my kid!"
As he ran to the young mother, I wouldn’t say she threw the baby at him, but she did kind of leave quickly to go get cleaned up. He picked up that baby, and I watched him as he hugged that baby and kissed that baby and stroked that baby’s hair. He said, "Daddy’s baby’s come home. Daddy’s baby’s come home."
I watched them all the way to the luggage claim area. He never stopped kissing that baby. He never stopped welcoming that baby back home. I thought, “Where did I ever get the idea that my Father God is less loving than a young daddy in white slacks and white shirt with white flowers and a green paper?”
