GREAT STORIES OF THE BIBLE
The Prodigal Son (Luke 15)
Mark Twain; Anne Tyler; William Shakespeare, Mary Shelley,
Harriet Beecher Stowe, Ken Follett; these are but a few of the countless
experts on story-telling and human nature. In each one’s works, we find human flaws:
both arrogance and self-pity; we find examples of human learning from humility
or from desertion of family or friends; we have examples of community and how
others regard their children, their parents, or their friends after little
secrets have been exposed. But one of
the master story tellers of all times could lift a mirror up to the lives of
his listeners: the Lord Jesus himself.
The parables of Jesus are masterpieces of storytelling and the human
condition. And today we learn at the feet of the master with one of the master
stories of the Bible. Before we begin, the situation in your own life aligns you with one of the characters
in this great drama. Are you the parent,
scorned or hurt by your children? Are you the child who once got tired of house rules and decided to run off to “join a
circus,” a band, a boyfriend or girlfriend, to leave school, or to move into a
world of drugs, drink, or desperation? Or conversely, are you the child who did
the right thing, dutifully, perhaps anxiously, never wanting to disappoint a
parent or boss, and secretly resenting those who rashly misplayed the hand that
life had dealt them? Finally, there is a
fourth group to which you may belong: it is the townspeople, those who saw what
went on and approved or disapproved of it; those who may have been invited to the
“fatted calf celebration” and came, or those who, to show disapproval of the
son’s behavior, stayed away. This is one
of Jesus’ greatest stories about, well, what IS it about? Grace? Forgiveness? Doing the right thing? Learning from mistakes? Let’s listen to the storyteller.
Once upon a time a man had two sons. The younger one, apparently tired of the
house rules and chores, or not wanting to wait until his brother got the larger
share from his father’s will as was the custom in those days, decided life was
too short and he was too broke, and there was a whole big world to
embrace. “Father” he said, because he
did not feel close enough to call him ‘Dad,’ I know you are still alive, but
could you give me what I am bound to get once you die?” Do you ever feel like
the children around you act like they are entitled to bling
and things, not when they earn the money for it, but because other children
have it: like a cell phone, an
I-pod, an I-phone, a car, or you name
it? “When you earn it you can buy it if
you still want it” my parents used to say to me. Why have parents forgotten how
to say those words? Why is the use of
the internet for long hours on end an entitlement? If you are incensed, you are thinking like
the brother and the townsfolk in our story. To the younger child, the request
seemed quite reasonable. If you were the
parent in this story; would you have said no to the inheritance request? Or as
this parent did, holding his tongue, would you have drawn your property lines
in the dirt and told your son which part was his? The father had given his son
a rope, not to hang himself, but to tangle himself,
and what a tangle he created! Few in town would buy his part of the property
because they were so disgusted when they heard what he had done. With what
money he did put together, he headed
out of town fueled by excitement and a little sense of freedom, but no plan.
Since he had never known the true cost of living, especially in a hostile
environment, he was hit with expenses and with the cost of fun. The money
poured from his pockets. You see, children living at home don’t get it when you
say “turn off the light when you leave a room!” or don’t get the implications
when they whine “Can’t we make it a little cooler in here, I’m burning up?” or
think their parents are unreasonable when they hear the voice through the
bathroom door, “Turn off that shower!”
Chris’s own auto insurance, Matt’s own utility bill, and Jenny’s own
gasoline costs have been sobering experiences for them. These life lessons must
be started early! WHAT A DISSERVICE WE
GIVE OUR CHILDREN IF WE DO NOT START TO GIVE THEM SOME RESPONSIBILITY BEFORE
FULL RESPONSIBILITY VIRTUALLY DROWNS THEM. So the younger son was learning a
lesson; the older son had yet to learn one. The younger son actually ate the
most unspeakable and distasteful things to get by, like a human being eating
dog food to exist. Finally, the young man reminisced about the good old days of
“rules, three hots, and a cot.” He remembered that
even his father’s farm workers ate better than he was now. He knew the
community and his brother would not just let him slip back onto the property
without disdain, so he decided on a plan.
(Most would say this boy was not yet sorry,
he was just hungry, but some believe
as he formulated his speech he gained remorse.) Again, all he was thinking of
was himself; and let’s be frank; children, even
teenagers, do not have the mental maturity to predict the outcome of many of
their actions. That’s why they make careless choices behind the wheel, try to
push the limits of society, and look for ways to say they are grown up when
they aren’t. But back home, this boy had been written off; written off by the
brother who always found him maddening; written off by the community,
literally, who called him irresponsible and disrespectful toward his father.
But wait: there was at least one who
hadn’t written off that child, and there is still at least one who hasn’t
written you or me off either! It’s the one with a mother’s heart and a
father’s stature. Everyone in town still
greatly respected the father in the parable. So, why did he seem so downtrodden?
Why did he stir his food around his plate so long before eating it? Why did he
not fall straight to sleep late into evenings, but stayed sitting up, looking
out at the moon by night? And why, during
the day, did he regularly cast furtive glances toward the rise where he last
caught a glimpse of his son’s dusty trail? All was NOT right with one of his
children missing. The father’s heart was troubled.
One day, early in the afternoon, the father sat down to cast
his eyes longingly in that direction. This time he was rewarded and troubled at
the same time: a dust cloud was forming at the summit’s rise and the
unmistakable outline of his boy appeared, in disheveled clothing, but
nevertheless, coming home! A homecoming was about to happen! Oh dear! Without hearing the boy beg for forgiveness
and without the father having yet publicly welcomed him, the townspeople would
stone him or shun him!!! What could a dignified father, in robes sandals, and
necklaces, do to save the situation? Only
one thing could be done: for the sake of his child, he would feel foolish
and run toward his boy, with fabric tearing and flip flops
flying! If he greeted the boy as if he were expecting
him, the community would not shun or stone him. They would believe there had
been reconciliation! So his father did what he had to do and wanted to do: he
RAN to him, EMBRACED him, and KISSED him! AND MOST SCHOLARS AGREE THAT IT WAS
IN THAT ACT OF AMAZING GRACE, THE ACTIONS OF UNMERITED FAVOR, THAT SELFISHNESS
GOT REPLACED IN THE YOUNG MAN’S HEART WITH REMORSE. IN THAT MOMENT, HIS SPEECH
ABOUT SORROW BECAME GENUINE. From the school of hard knocks, the young man came
back a little wiser, a little more grateful, and much more humble. There was a
changed child in the story from that point on.
And there were a few changed townspeople who came to rejoice at the reunion
and share in the gigantic, out-of-proportion feast the father had ordered. There
were probably still some townspeople who resented the lad who had been so
sassy, spoiled, and selfish. To them,
any new trust or respect had to be earned. Perhaps they were still suspicious
and judgmental. But there was one other person in the story who needed to be
rescued. He was fuming in the field.
Again, this patient father, who never would have trudged
through the fields where his servants and sons worked, left his guests and went
outside, though the light was fading, to again meet
his son, his other son, the one who could not make his heart rejoice; the one
who deeply resented his father’s over-the-top welcome. “Come in, my son, join us!” “I’ll not do it!!”
he replied. “I’ve been good, I’ve been faithful, I’ve worked until I ached and
you’ve never thanked me like this!
What’s wrong with this picture? It’s wrong when wasteful and lazy people get rewarded!”
I can imagine a genuine smile crossing the Father’s face. “Son, is THAT what you think? NO! I have
always noted your hard work and I am especially proud of you! You’ve already
seen that the lion’s share of my estate is yours! But, you see, yesterday my
hope was fading that your brother was still alive; I thought I’d lost a son,
and I wondered where I had failed. Then when he appeared, why, it was like
having the dead return to life! Don’t you see? By seeing your brother, I not
only have my other son back, I have him back hungry and grateful instead of
feeling entitled to what I gave him. He is, in some ways, a new creation! Now come on; sit with us at the table.” What
happened next? Jesus doesn’t tell us; great storytellers usually don’t. But in
your mind, haven’t you finished the story? Did the son come in from the field?
Did he stay outside? Did the son stay resentful of his brother? Was there one son found that afternoon, and a different son
lost son that evening?
You’ve really messed up some haven’t you; really done
something you wished you hadn’t? Who hasn’t? So what kind of God do you want to
judge as you cross the river to the other side and stand at those pearly gates? Do you want the judgment of a mob that I
called the townspeople? Do you want the judgment of the son who believed he
never did anything wrong? Or would you settle for the Father, whose exceedingly
patient actions showed compassion and whose heart poured out grace? Our Lord is
always calling sinners to come home. Our
human condition and our response have been examined in stories again and again.
When the winds of mortal sin, choice or corruption blow down the house of cards
we call our life, amazing grace can enter and rebuild remorseful lives on the
solid rock of Christ. May judgment day will look entirely different than what
you may have pictured: perhaps it will look more like a father running to
embrace a lost and remorseful child in a homecoming, while, left behind, clouds
of disappointment began to form over another child, sulking in the cornfield.
“Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling: Calling: ‘O sinner,
come home!’”
Jeffrey A. Sumner