Scripture: Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Remember Saving Private Ryan—the Spielberg movie from the ’90s about the Normandy invasion and its aftermath? If you’ve seen it, you’ll recall that nearly everyone in Captain Miller’s unit dies trying to save Private Ryan’s life. And as Miller himself lies dying, he grabs Ryan by the collar and says, “Earn this… Earn it!”
Decades later, an elderly Ryan stands at Miller’s grave in Normandy and wonders: Did I earn it? He asks his family.
Did I live a life worthy of what these men sacrificed for me?
What an impossible burden! How could Ryan ever earn that kind of sacrifice?
And yet, that’s where today’s scripture gives us something infinitely better. The life Christ gives us—which includes forgiveness of sins, adoption into God’s family, the Holy Spirit, and future resurrection—cannot be earned. It can only be received.
It is a completely free gift.
It is amazing grace.
That’s what today’s sermon is about, and we’re going to look at this parable, naturally enough, from three different perspectives, first, from the father’s perspective; second, from the younger son’s perspective. And third, from the older son’s perspective.
But first, the parable from father’s perspective…
Look at verses 11 and 12: “There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them.”
Jesus’ original audience for this parable would be surprised—shocked even—by these words.
In this ancient Jewish culture, the younger son’s audacious request is disrespectful in the extreme. For one thing, you don’t ask for your share of the inheritance before your father is even dead; it’s as if the younger son were saying, “Dad, you’re worth more to me dead than alive. So go ahead and give me what I have coming to me. Because I wish you were dead. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
Think of the emotional pain that would cause the father!
That’s costly… emotionally…
Also: it’s very costly, financially, for this father to give the younger son his share of the estate early.
Why?
This father was likely late-middle-aged, like me. He potentially had many years of life ahead of him. But now, because he was dividing his estate before his death, the father would have a lot less wealth to live off of for the rest of his life. One-third less, to be exact. Because according to the law of ancient Israel, the older son was entitled to two-thirds of the estate, and the younger son to one-third. The younger son was taking one-third of his father’s wealth away from him.
So think about it: Instead of having a hundred percent of his money, his livestock, his servants, and his land to live off of for the rest of his life, the father would now only have about 67 percent of his wealth to live off of.
And no one knows what the future holds! What if the father and older son become victims of famine or recession or bad investments or theft? It’s easy to imagine that that missing 33 percent of wealth could mean the difference between life and death, between health and sickness, between prosperity and destitution!
That’s costly!
So don’t miss this: the father’s gift of forgiveness is free to the younger son, but it is costly to the father.
And that’s how grace always works!
When we say that salvation is a “free gift,” we don’t mean that it didn’t cost anything. We mean it didn’t cost us anything! Remember: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son…”?
Our heavenly Father paid for our forgiveness of sins, our adoption into God’s family, our eternal life, our future resurrection, with the infinitely costly blood of his Son Jesus on the cross! And of course Jesus, who is God, also paid that cost.
But in the parable, the cost to this father isn’t merely emotional and financial. It also costs him his reputation because forgiving the younger son in this way would be deeply shameful. This son deserved punishment, not forgiveness. He had humiliated his father, squandered his father’s wealth, and disgraced his family. Yet the father welcomes him home?
It went against all cultural norms and expectations. It would seem crazy to everyone who heard about it!
Speaking of crazy, the most popular praise and worship song of the past ten years is “Reckless Love”—the refrain of which includes these familiar words: “Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God.” And this very popular song is also among the most controversial praise and worship songs.
Why is it controversial? Because many pastors and theologians worry that it’s a mistake to call anything about God, especially the way he loves us, “reckless.”
And strictly speaking, they have a point. God isn’t reckless. He isn’t careless. He doesn’t make mistakes. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
But grace sure can look reckless to those people who think grace ought to be earned!
People like you and me… at least some of the time!
If you don’t believe me, think about some shocking act of violence that makes the news… Often, instead of seeking vengeance against the perpetrator, a family member or a friend of the victim extends forgiveness to the perpetrator instead a desire for revenge. And the people doing the forgiving are usually Christians.
And when this kind of forgiveness goes public—notice how the public often responds: either it melts their hearts or makes them angry. We see both those reactions in the media… every time!
Or think of how often, on TV and in movies, a hero forgives the “bad guy.” And what do friends and family of that hero say? “But he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness!”
As if deserving has anything to do with grace!
And I hope you never see me on a city street when a panhandler approaches. I am often not feeling unconditional love. I’m feeling resentment: like, “how badly has your life gotten off course that you’re asking me for help?” Oh, I might give them money, but my heart is not in it. Because often I’m thinking, “They don’t deserve it!”
We have a “love-hate” relationship with grace.
We love grace when we’re the ones who need it.
Not so much when some other people need it!
Because deep down in our hearts, we still think grace ought to be earned.
Of course, if it’s earned, brothers and sisters, it’s no longer grace!
And that’s Point Number One… the parable from the father’s perspective.
Number Two… let’s look at the parable from the younger son’s perspective…
Let’s begin by looking at this son’s well-rehearsed speech that he’s prepared for his father in verses 18 and 19: “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.” That’s what he plans to tell his father.
Do you see what’s happening here? Like many of us, the younger son accepts the premise that forgiveness and grace must somehow be earned. So he comes home with a plan: If I can’t come home as a son, maybe I can come home as an employee. Maybe I can work for what I no longer deserve to receive as a gift.
Except his plan fails… Because notice in verses 21 and 22, after his father ran to him and embraced him and kissed him, the younger son doesn’t even get to say that last part of his speech, about being a servant—he doesn’t even get the words out of his mouth—before his father cuts him off and says, “Bring my best robe and put it on him. Bring me my ring and put it on him. Put sandals on his feet.”
I mean… the father doesn’t even make his dirty, filthy, stinky son take a shower first!
Speaking of dirty, filthy, and stinky, I want to talk about my beloved springer spaniel Ringo last week when we were on vacation. And I want to say a word of thanks to Amanda Charles and her dear daughters, who are the best dog-sitters!
Amanda and her fam took care of dear Ringo last week. And one morning when we were gone… Ringo had some… how do I put this…? Digestive disturbances… in the crate that he sleeps in at night. All of you dog owners know what I’m talking about.
Except Amanda didn’t even own this particular dog, and she had to deal with it. And I wouldn’t blame her if, when she came by to let Ringo out that particular morning, her first thought was, “Oh, no… What a mess I’ve got to clean it up! And I’ve gotta clean him up… and he’s a mess!”
But if that was her first thought, let me tell you her second thought: “Oh… Poor Ringo!” See, Amanda felt that deep down, almost painful kind of gut-level love for this poor dog that is described by the biblical word we see in verse 20: compassion. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion…”
And this, please notice, was before the younger son had said a word to his father… He was still, at this point, “a long way off.”
I emphasize this because I know how you and I often feel: We feel a “a long way off” from our heavenly Father. We feel as if we’ve really messed up because of our sin. And we’re afraid of what our heavenly Father thinks of us. “He must be fed up with me now! He doesn’t want to hear from me! He doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t want to show me his love. Not anymore!”
Like Ringo in his crate that morning, we’re a mess… because of our sin. And our messiness makes us doubt our Father’s love for us.
Are you kidding me? In those moments when you—at your sinful, messy worst—turn back toward your Father, he couldn’t love you more if he tried… He has compassion.
Now let’s talk about the younger son’s motives for coming home. What ultimately makes him decide to return home? Is it just that he feels so guilty and broken up about the great harm that he’s caused to his father and his brother and he wants to make amends?
A little… but not mostly…
Mostly, the younger son returns home for one reason: he’s starving… and he’s run out of options… and he can’t think of anything else to do, he can’t think of anywhere else to go… and he can’t think of anyone else to turn to, who can save him… other than his father.
And yet… surprise, surprise… in spite of his badly mixed motives—his impure motives—somehow that’s enough for his father!
And brothers and sisters, sometimes we even do this with repentance! We think, “Before I come back to God, before I approach him in prayer, I need to make sure I’m sorry enough. I need to make sure my motives are pure enough. I need to get my heart into the right condition.”
But do you see what we’re doing? We’re trying to earn grace by the quality of our repentance! “I’ll show God that I’m really sorry this time.”
Our Father doesn’t need perfect repentance… Just turn to him again, in the dirty, filthy, stinky mess that you’ve made of your life, and you’ll find grace every time!
In his masterpiece of a book, The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis says that sometimes God sends trouble to people because God knows that trouble will have the same effect that it has on this younger son: it will cause them to come to their senses and return to their heavenly Father. And good news… Like the father in the parable, our heavenly Father is not too proud receive us back!
No, God is instead very humble, Lewis writes,
because it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us [to “strike one’s colours” is a naval term that means surrendering to an enemy ship… so “it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us”]; a poor thing to come to Him as a last resort, to offer up ‘our own’ when it is no longer worth keeping. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is ‘nothing better’ now to be had… It is hardly complimentary to God that we should choose Him as an alternative to Hell: yet even this He accepts.[1]
This younger son has proven through his actions that he would prefer “everything else” to his father. He’s proven that he’s only choosing his father as an alternative to death.
“Yet even this He accepts.”
What about you? Don’t wait. Just turn back to the Father and come home!
Because… “while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”[2]
That’s love! That’s grace!
And that’s Point Number Two…
And now Point Number Three… let’s look at the parable from the older son’s perspective.
What I need us to see is that, even though these two sons made very different choices in life… even though we admire the older son for staying home and working for his father and disparage the younger son for leaving and then coming home empty-handed… they actually have so much in common!
The younger son says, “I no longer deserve my father’s love, therefore I need to earn it.”
The older son says, “I have already earned my father’s love; therefore I deserve it.”
Either way, they share the exact same belief about their father’s love: it must be earned.
Both of them would love the ending of Saving Private Ryan: “Earn this! Earn it.”
But by the end of the parable, the younger son has learned something about grace that his older brother still doesn’t understand… Both sons have the same father. Both are members of their father’s household with all rights and privileges thereof. Both are loved by the father.
But… they’re not equal. Not anymore.
Because the younger son has discovered something precious: his deep hunger can only be satisfied by his father—by his father’s love and grace. The older son hasn’t discovered that yet!
That’s why, at the end of the parable, he’s still saying, in so many words, “Your love is not enough. Your inheritance is not enough. Your treasure is not enough. I want more.”
What about you?
Is our Father enough for you? Is his Son Jesus enough for you? Have you found in Christ your greatest treasure—or are you still looking for something “more”?
It’s a cliché, but it’s true: “You don’t that Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have.” Sometimes, as I know from personal experience, a good crisis is exactly what we need to bring us back to our Father…
Well… this prodigal faced a crisis: He squandered everything. He was on the brink of starvation. He nearly died…
That’s a crisis!
Now let me describe a far worse crisis…
This same young man takes his father’s fortune, moves away to the far country, except this time… instead of squandering the money, he invests it responsibly… and prospers!
He becomes successful beyond his wildest dreams. He marries a woman who loves him, raises a family, enjoys good health, retires young, enjoys grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and lives a long, happy, prosperous life.
By every worldly measure, his life is a tremendous success.
Yet he never comes home. He never reconciles with his father.
That’s a crisis! That is a far bigger crisis… than merely losing all of his money and all his dignity and going hungry until finally coming to his senses, repenting, and returning home to his father!
Because the biggest crisis any of us can face is living our lives apart from our Father… and then dying, without ever receiving his forgivingness… without ever being reconciled to him…
Do you believe me when I say that that’s what’s ultimately at stake in the work we do as members of Five Forks Methodist?
We have the opportunity—and the sobering and sacred responsibility—to proclaim the Good News of our Father’s love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness to a world filled prodigal sons and prodigal daughters.
Are we willing to do what’s necessary to reach our small corner of that world with the gospel?
Because welcoming prodigals home is costly.
I’ve already said it was costly to the father in the parable. But also to the older son: That remaining 67 percent is hismoney now—and he now has another mouth to feed in the unexpected and unwelcome return of his no-good younger brother! Even that fattened calf is now coming out of his budget! Fattened calves were expensive.
He didn’t want to pay the cost to save his younger brother!
What about us?
See, this season of stewardship gives each of us an opportunity to say, in a tangible way, “Yes, Lord, I’m willing to pay the cost… the cost of bringing prodigal sons and daughters home.”
Most of you who left Advent United Methodist a couple of years ago know all about costly decisions!
By all means, there were important theological and doctrinal questions that made leaving the United Methodist Church necessary, no matter the cost… but it also meant leaving a local church that you loved. I can say, by the authority of God’s Word, you made the right decision.
But it was costly. I get it!
And who am I to tell you about costs? A million dollars for prime real estate across from one of the area’s premier elementary schools; $1.8 million for only half of our first projected building. You’ve already paid that cost. Praise God!
But there is another cost that many of you—if you choose to stay here—will continue to pay, one that doesn’t fit neatly on a ledger or income statement: the cost of no longer “doing church” in all the same comfortable ways we did church before—with the same beloved people, and in the same familiar surroundings, and with the same amount of staff and volunteers and resources.
To say the least, as some of you are painfully aware, our church did not become Advent Global Methodist Church when we left Advent United Methodist Church.
And it never will.
Are you okay with that?
Am I?
I ask because—like it or not—hardly a week goes by that I’m not reminded that Five Forks Methodist Church is less thanmany other churches in our area… Try as we might, we can’t do as much—and what we do, we do with fewer people, less space, and smaller budgets.
In so many words, I hear this often: “Five Forks Methodist is less than…”
And if we’re not careful, that dangerous idea becomes contagious. We can start believing it ourselves. Especially in a couple of weeks as we won’t even have a place to call our own!
And yet… Are we less than?
We do not have less of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.”
We don’t have less of the Spirit of Jesus Christ living and working among us, empowering our witness, transforming lives, sanctifying us, enabling us to grow in love for one another, by which all people will know that we are disciples of Christ.
We don’t have less access to the throne room of Almighty God, who beckons his children to pray boldly… if only we will.
We don’t have less ability to worship, magnify, and glorify God and his Son Jesus.
We don’t have less than the full armor of God to wrestle and prevail against “the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
We don’t have less than what we need to fulfill the mission for which God set this church apart less than two years ago.
So maybe this stewardship season can be an opportunity for each of us to decide once again that Jesus is enough for us—and in him we have everything we need to be faithful to what he’s calling us to do… if only we’ll trust him and not give up! Good heavens! We’re a church plant. We’re just getting started. It’s supposed to be hard!
So maybe when we turn in our commitment cards, we’re not simply committing a portion of our financial resources to Five Forks Methodist. Maybe we’re also saying, “Lord, I’m still in. I still believe in what you’re doing here. And I’m willing to give myself to whatever you want this church to become.”
“I’m not looking back at what used to be. I’m looking forward to what you, by your grace, are going to make of us.”
After all, there are many prodigal sons and daughters who need to come home. And by God’s grace, the people who gather each week as Five Forks Methodist—wherever that is and whoever we become—will be there to welcome them home.
It’s costly… And that’s why we give…
[1] C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: HarperOne, 1996), 95-6.
[2] Luke 15:15 ESV