Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
There once was a man with two sons. The younger son was kind of a jerk. He didn't have the patience to wait for his father to die to get his inheritance. He wants his inheritance NOW and so one day he goes to his dad and demands his share of the inheritance up front. It's unprecedented, it's not very kind... but it's what the younger son does. And his father gives in.
And so the younger son, this irresponsible son, takes his windfall of cash and does what most young, irresponsible young men do when they come into a bunch of money. He travels. He lives large. He parties. And in the process, of course... blows all the money on reckless living.
It's then that famine strikes. Hunger, unemployment, economic depression, maybe a stock market crash. In despair, the young man hires himself out to a local pig farmer, which is about as low as it gets for a good Jewish boy! It's the lowest of the low.
Finally, when the second son realizes he's actually jealous of what the pigs are eating, that he comes to his senses. "I will ... go to my father," He decides, "and ... say to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants" (vv.18-19). Anyway, that's the plan. The boy sets out for home. And he makes the long journey home, still reeking of pigs, rehearsing his little speech.
It's at the very end of this journey, as he's cresting the final hill on the road home to his father, that his father sees him. His dad has been standing in front of the house and looking down the road, as he had every day, wondering, hoping, praying. He sees the lonely figure straggling down the road. He sees the shuffling gait. It may lack the self-confident swagger of the young man who set out from home with a fat wad of cash in his pocket, but it is unmistakably his son.
Joy. The father takes off running down the road, his heart pounding with joy. Nearly knocks the boy over as he throws his arms around his neck and kisses him. The young man can barely breathe in his father's bear hug. He tries to say his little speech. "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I'm no longer worthy to be called your son." But he doesn't get far. Before he even gets to the part about being a hired hand, the father is ordering up the son's best robe, a signet ring. Bring some shoes for this boy's feet. Kill the prize calf and prepare a feast. "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found" (v.24).
Do you see the Father's grace? Do you see the extravagant mercy of a Father, a Father who's so lavish with his grace that he runs down the road to embrace a rebellious son— a rebellious son who wished him dead, who wasted his inheritance, who smells like a pig. The stunning thing is that, even in the pig pen, the boy never ceases to be his father's son. And there's no room in his father's embrace for cutting a deal. At most, it's simply a confession.
Notice, by the way, that the father doesn't check to make sure the boy is really good and sorry and promises never to do it again! He's too busy putting on the robe and the ring and the sandals and the food. He is rejoicing. He wants to celebrate with his family and friends.
How many times, my dear friends in Christ, have you been the younger son? Sinful by nature, constantly taking God's eternal inheritance for granted? Wasting your inheritance, wallowing in the pig pen of sin and calling it a life, trying to live independently of God, wishing Him dead? Even though it may seem at times like you can't go home again, not with what you've done... Even though it seems like you can't go home again, not with the way you've treated God, not with the way your life smells.... well... Jesus' parable reminds you that you can always come home to the open embrace of a Father who's ready to forgive.
The parable reminds us that God never disowns his children— not even for a second. God the Father is always ready to rejoice with us, to forgive us. God the Father has, in fact, forgiven you already, even before you confess your sin! His forgiveness is already embracing you! He's already putting the robe of righteousness on your shoulders. He's already slipping the ring of sonship on your finger (see Gal 3:26-27).
We have all been the younger son. The good news is that you don't need to make a deal with Him... not with the loving Father who loved so much that He gave His own Son Jesus to die for your sins on the cross! All there is? is the father's embrace... the robe and the ring and the sandals and the feast... and the rejoicing— a party to end all parties for no other reason except God's joy that you are home. Home in the arms of a merciful God the Father who loves you.
This is the outrageous, the "filled-with-joy," the "hard-to-imagine" grace of God. It's also an outrageous, prodigal grace that knows no bounds and which —sadly— is so offensive to the religious. "The Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, 'This man receives sinners and eats with them' " (v.2). I mean, "people should have to earn their way back into favor." "If you want forgiveness," they say, "after all you've done, it shouldn't be that easy, and you certainly shouldn't throw a party for these kinds of deadbeats. They need to be taught a lesson, instead." Remember, in Jesus' parable, the man had TWO sons. The older son, the respectable son, was in the field, doing his work, as he always did. When he hears the revelry, he called a servant who tells him about how his brother has come home and how his father is celebrating (v.27).
Does the older brother, too, rejoice? No— he's not joyful; he's furious. He stalks off in a rage and refuses to come in. So his father comes out to him. Just as the father had run out to meet his youngest on the road, so he comes out to meet his firstborn in the fields. "Won't you come to the party?" he asked. But the older son is angry, bitter, enraged. "Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!"
Did you catch exactly what the older brother said? He amplifies his brother's sin to make himself look good. As Jesus told the story, the younger son wasted his inheritance with reckless living. The older brother spices things up a bit and says it was with prostitutes. He emphasizes and exaggerates his brother's sins and over-emphasizes his own goodness and worth. How often we build the cathedrals of our religion out of the specks from our brother's eye! (Matt. 7:3–5).
God's grace, you see? In Jesus? It's so prodigal (it's so outrageous), it angers us. "I've gone to church my whole life," we think, "and this guy who's done nothing but party and live for himself, who never set foot one inside a church can confess Jesus on his deathbed and get the same inheritance!" The deadbeat son gets a robe, a ring, good shoes and a feast!?!!!
The father speaks tenderly to his older son: "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found' " (vv.31-32). Put aside your anger, your self-righteousness, your indignation.... and rejoice! Rejoice in the Father's grace! Rejoice in His mercy and forgiveness!
And there, of course, the parable ends. The scene fades and the credits roll. What do you think? Will the religious older son join the party? Will he recognize that he is just as lost in the field as his deadbeat little brother was in the pig pen? Will he put aside his thinking that he's somehow better than his brother and realize that no one gets what they deserve. That if you want to get what you deserve, you can skip the party and go straight to hell? That God gives His grace freely? That God rejoices over all sinners who repent and come to Christ for forgiveness?
Or will he exclude himself from the party because he can't stand the idea of a father who operates by grace? Will we? For we are that son, too. Will we come in? Or will we look down our religious noses on others who just can't seem to get it right? Will we rejoice at the prodigal goodness, the recklessly extravagant goodness of our Father? At the Father who wants all of his sons and daughters (the good, the bad, the religious and the unreligious) at his party? The funny thing about all this— all that indignation, that "holier-than-thou" attitude we like to adopt, that "I'm better because I do this... or don't do that" posture we pretend to— the funny thing is, it just hurts ourselves. Let's drop the anger and indignation and come in. Come into the party. Come in and rejoice with a Father who longs to have all His lost children be found and alive in Christ.
God "desires all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Tim. 2:4). God wants all to come to repentance, "not wishing that any should perish" (2 Pet. 3:9). The joyous good news, our reason for rejoicing is that God our Father is crazy about the lost— like a crazy shepherd who leaves the 99 for one lost sheep, like a crazy woman who wastes a whole day searching for one lost coin. Like the prodigal father who welcomes the lost son with open arms. God is passionate about sinners. He welcomes them; He eats with them. The Lamb is slain, the wine is flowing, the feast is ready. The lost are found in the death of Jesus. Now THAT'S a reason to rejoice! In the name of Jesus, Amen.
The peace of God which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
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