Jesus' Prodigal Love for You - Luke 15:11-32

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Luke 15:11-32.

Most of us know this morning’s Gospel lesson as the Parable of the Prodigal Son. We’ve heard it since we were kids in Sunday school. We know the characters; we know the story. 

We remember the prodigal’s foolish “I wish dad was dead” request for inheritance, his prideful flight from home, and then his shameful, tail-between-his-legs return, hoping to beg for a place in the servant’s quarters. We remember the older brother’s passive-aggressive frustration and anger, both in having to stay and work on the family farm and then have a jealous snit-fit because little brother gets a homecoming party. And we remember the father’s joy at seeing the son, whom he feared dead, to be alive, welcoming him home, calling the older brother to celebrate that the lost is found. And we know this parable as an illustration of God’s mercy and grace for repentant sinners. 

This is how we usually think of the parable. This is good.

But for others of us, this parable is only wishful thinking, a story as fictional as any episode of Last Man Standing where all conflicts are resolved in 23 minutes or less with hugs all ‘round.  Some of us know this parable not as a cute, heart-warming narrative of bad boy returning home, but as a commentary on our own broken home lives. 

Prodigal means to waste money on extravagant, outrageous - and presumably unsustainable - living. I don't necessarily mean your child wished you dead like the Prodigal did in Luke 15, or that they took off with a portion of your estate and blew it in Vegas on slots or in New Orleans on sluts, or that they wound up prostituting themselves in a dehumanizing job that no one would do.

I'm using prodigal in more a figurative sense, that they have squandered your parental love, that they reject your wisdom, that they refuse guidance while outrageously demanding your obeisance to their whim and fancy. They expect you to do for them while they refuse responsibility for their lives and actions - or inaction, as the case might be.

There’s the strong-willed prodigal who thinks they know it all, who says they can’t wait to leave, whose actions say they wish mom and dad were dead and whose words burn like the hell where they told the parents to go to. Just give me what’s mine and I’ll be out of your hair, they say, as they slam the door and tear down the road in a cloud of dust. 

There’s the passive aggressive prodigal who does his or her responsibility, but does it begrudgingly with sighs, eye rolls, and mumbling and grumbling, so everyone knows how much of an inconvenience all of this is and what a personal sacrifice they are making. But behind dad’s back, they laugh and poke fun at their Old Man for his old-fashioned ways.  

There are the parents who have bent over backwards to provide for the kids and rear them in the fear of the Lord; then, it becomes a struggle to try to placate and appease, just trying to hold it all together. Meanwhile, they feel as if they have been taken advantage of and used like an old pair of shoes: parental love rejected, wisdom spurned, and heart shattered. They feel empty, having been consumed, and there’s simply nothing left.  

And if that’s your family story, when you hear this narrative, this parable, there’s part of you that wishes it would be so great if your own prodigal son, your own prodigal daughter would return, humbled; that the passive-aggressive son or daughter would rejoice at the family being whole again; that all would be able to repent of their sins against each other and forgive each other and be restored as one family. 

But there’s also part of you that cannot make that leap when they return. We recall the ugly words that dripped with venom, the hands that once reached out in love instead balled into fists, the hot-blooded shouting matches and the ice-cold shoulders, the scene of your son, your daughter walking away and you want to rub their noses in their failure, you want to shame them into submission, you want to give them a swift kick in the kishkes that might hurt them almost as much as they hurt you. We know it’s wrong, but, we rationalize…but…there’s just no way I can be like that prodigal’s parent.

Let’s go back to the parable for a minute. Have you ever wondered how the father could be so kind, so generous, so gracious, so merciful to a son who, at one point, felt his father more valuable dead than alive? Remember – he wanted his share of the estate; you get an estate after the estate holder is dead. How could the father be so kind as to forgive and welcome this “I-wish-you-were-dead-Dad” prodigal back?

It’s because the Father has another Son. That’s right: there’s another Son. This third Son is actually at the center of the parable. Without this Son, the parable doesn’t work; it doesn’t make sense. But, you don’t hear this Son mentioned in the parable. He’s not a character. He’s the narrator. This Son is the one telling the story. Who is this mystery Son? The Son is Jesus.

Jesus is the other son, the prodigal’s brother, who intercedes for him to the Father. Jesus stands between the broken prodigal who’s dead with grief and shame, who knows full well he sinned against his father and his brother, who knows he has no right to dare be there, and Jesus stands between the prodigal and the Father and implores the Father on the brother’s behalf. It is as if Jesus is saying, “Father, don’t look at the prodigal’s sins; instead, remember your promise of a Father’s love. The prodigal’s debts against you, I will pay. Whatever anger you may have against His sinful behavior, lay it against me. I will take the servant’s place he desired and surrender my Sonship to him. He will take my place in Your house and whatever punishment he deserves, I will accept on his behalf. His sin, wishing you were dead, I will die that the prodigal might be forgiven; I will die that the prodigal might live with You in peaceful harmony again.”

And the Father, out of His compassion for the prodigal, accepts His perfect Son’s offer. The Father no longer remembers the prodigal’s curses; He no longer sees the prodigal’s hands held out in greed; He no longer remembers the prodigal’s back turned to Him. What the Father hears is Jesus’ prayer, “Father, forgive them.” What He sees are Jesus’ nail-pierced hands. What the Father sees is Jesus’ whip-scored back. In fact, the picture is so perfect that the Father no longer even calls this one “Prodigal.” He simply calls him “Beloved.” 

If you thought this parable was a picture of your own fractured and fissured family, you are right – although maybe not for the reasons you first thought. It’s a picture of the Heavenly Father’s grace and mercy, shown to each of us, his beloved and formerly-prodigal children, through the merits of His Son, Jesus. For the sins you committed against your parents and your children, against your brothers and your sisters, those you know and those you didn’t even recognize in the moment, any sin that drove a wedge between you and your Father, Jesus died for each and every one.  What I hope you see in this parable is a picture of God’s love for you in Christ.

A note for you who struggle with a broken family relationship: As hard as it is to remember, the prodigal is still your child, and a prodigal for whom Jesus died. And, as hard as it is to remember, you are also a prodigal for whom Jesus died as well. 

I don't have an easy answer for living with a prodigal. I don't know how to make the hard words soft, how to sheathe the sharply-whetted tongues, how to stop seeing each other as enemies to be conquered. I wish I did. Oh, that I knew how to bind up the hearts broken by those whom we love so much. If only I had an "easy button" to make the icy family feud be a hug-filled home I would mass produce it and give them away by the gross.

But I can't. I have neither the know-how nor the ability. Besides - I need these things myself, for my own prodigal and my own broken family. 

All I have is Jesus.
For you, for me.
For my prodigal.
For yours.

God, be merciful and grant us your peace.
Give us Jesus.
We need Him so much.