Luke 15:1-3, 11-32 But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
He did a very, very offensive thing. . . The younger son in this familiar passage certainly offended all the customs and conventions of his day. He stepped outside of the norms, crossed over the lines, and acted in ways that were shocking and shameful – shocking and shameful to himself, his family, and his neighbors.
Perhaps he had considered his plans for a while. Maybe he practiced how he might ask the question, how he might make the demand. “How should I word this exactly. . .?” he may have asked. Or perhaps his plans were simply made on the spur of the moment. Perhaps the desire for immediate gratification overcame him, and he didn’t really consider how his words might hurt or wound those around him.
“Father, give me the share of the land that will belong to me.” That wasn’t really a question at all. It seemed to be a demand, an expectation, and entitlement. And did you catch that? That word ‘will?’ “Father, give me the share of the land that will belong to me.” He’s asking to translate ‘will’ into now.
He did a very, very offensive thing. . . Because under all conventional standards of the day, the younger son would not have gained this inheritance now. The ‘will’ of it all – “Father, give me the share of the land that will belong to me” – hinged on one thing: the death of his father. In other words, as we translate this demand into the cultural language of the day, the younger son is in effect saying, “Father, be dead to me. I can’t wait for your death. I want my share of the inheritance now.” That was a very, very offensive request to make.
And he receives that inheritance. But he doesn’t use it to care for himself and his father. He doesn’t use it for the good of others, or again, even for the good of himself. Instead, he runs off to a distant country and squanders the entire inheritance on dissolute living. He asked for his father to be dead to himself. And then, he became dead to himself – dead to the person he was called to be.
And yet, thank God, there is grace. Yes, thank God that grace can come even in the rock bottom moment. A famine comes, and though the younger son may have assumed that his inheritance was abundant enough to last forever, like all things that are perishable – money, food, and worldly sustenance – his monetary inheritance hit rock bottom. And so did he. He was so poor and so in need, that he did something else that would have seemed wildly offensive to anyone he grew up with back at home. He hired himself out to be a swineherd, to tend to pigs which were unclean under Jewish law. And his rock bottom moment comes when he is so hungry that he envies those pigs. They have sustenance even in that slop, and that’s more than he can say for himself. The scripture says that there was grace even in this filthy moment of needy destitution. The text says that, “He came to himself.”
Isn’t that an interesting phrase? He came to himself? His monetary inheritance had run out, but he was on the verge of discovering there's an inheritance that is not perishable, an inheritance that cannot be squandered under any circumstances, an inheritance that has to do with identity through love.
There was grace in a glimmer of understanding. And yet, he underestimated it for what it really was. He began to dream of return – return to his father, return to himself – but he underestimated it. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” He set off to return, to be less than the one he was called to be.
He did a very, very offensive thing. . . He stepped outside the norms, crossed over lines, and acted in ways that were culturally shocking and shameful. Yes, the father did a very offensive thing, culturally speaking. Though shamed by his son and treated as though he were dead, the father continually sought after he son. He did not avert his eyes, constantly looking in love, dreaming for the wellbeing of his treasured son. He broke every standard, every expectation, and looked like a fool to his neighbors. In love, perhaps beyond what we can imagine, he did an offensive thing. . . Like a fool, he ran with open arms to greet the one who had disowned him and wronged him. He kissed his son. He did not let his son finish this speech, this tainted version of who he was in his father’s eyes. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He had spoken the truth, yet there would be no talk of acting as a hired hand. This was his beloved child, and he had returned. He had come to live as the one he is. “Bring the robe – the best one! Oh, bring the best sandals and a ring to place on his finger. My child! My child! My child has come home! My child! Kill the fatted calf! We will eat and celebrate, for this child of mine was dead and is alive again! He was lost, and he was found!”
The younger son may have treated his father as though he were dead. But there is nothing he could do – no distance that he could travel – that could render his father’s love dead. This love was alive, and for that reason, he named his son as the one he had always been, who he would always be: This fully alive, beloved child. The father welcomed him in love and threw a lavish party to celebrate that deep, rich, love – love which was wildly offensive in the world’s eyes – deep, rich, unconditional love toward this child who had returned.
And. . . he too, did a very, very offensive thing. . . The older brother was hurt by this lavishness. Perhaps he felt as though this feast – this abundance – was being squandered too. His younger brother had not only shamed himself. He had shamed everyone! He had left more work, more labor for his older brother, because he was not here to do it himself. He had literally demanded his share of the land, and then he squandered the proceeds it provided him. And because his father was still alive – and thank God he was still alive! (He didn’t want his father dead like somebody else!) – the older brother had to take care of his father with a smaller pool of resources than they had before. His younger brother had tarnished his family’s name, and for what? For a lavish party! Since when had his father done anything like this for him? He had stayed here. He had toiled. He had been faithful. Where was his party? There was no fatted calf! There wasn’t even a goat. And he did an offensive thing. He refused to enter the party. He chose to be alone. Self-righteous, yes, but also alone. Somehow, self-righteousness can make hermits out of us. . . And he stood there, scowling, sulking, he himself distant from his father.
And again, unconditional love can look so downright foolish. It’s offensive really. The father’s deep, rich, unconditional love was offensive in the way that it was willing to enter even the most offensive of places. Again, the father stepped outside the norms, crossed the lines, and acted in ways that were culturally shocking and shameful. He did what no host would do it his culture: He left his guests, and he went out to meet his older son. The older son made his complaints. He expressed his frustrations. It’s easy to empathize with him, but it’s also easy to forget the same thing the older son had forgotten about himself. His father listens, but he also lavishes his son with abundant love, “Son, you are always with me. You cannot truly be distant from my love for you. All that is mine, is yours.” And then the challenge: “This brother of yours was dead and has come to life. He was lost and has been found.” Yes, the challenge. “He is mine. Will you let him be yours? Will you come in, where my love is big enough for the both of you?”
What a story. How offensive. How challenging. How profound.
Do you know who you are? Do you know it? Do you know Whose you are? Do you know who and Whose you were created to be?
The first epistle of John says it so well: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.” “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.” Beautiful words. True words. And then, these words which are true and rich with challenge, “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. . . if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.”
Hear the good news of God’s love for you. You are included in God’s love. Wake up to it! Live like it’s actually real and true! And hear the good news of God’s love for the world. The world is included in God’s love. God’s love for you is so big, that it can include the world – those you love, those known unto you, those unknown to you, those you can’t stand. . . – without ever diminishing God’s deep, rich, unconditional for you. God’s love for the world is so big that it can really and truly include you – yes, even you! - without diminishing any of that love for the world. This love is endless and boundless.
So what are you waiting for? Won’t you go into that party and celebrate?
You may feel as though you have wandered so far away from God, that God has stopped waiting for your return. You may feel as though God would never run after you with open arms. It may seem as though you’ve squandered it all, and you might as well indulge in pig slop. Well, the good news for you today is that you are not pig slop, and you were never made for pig slop! God is looking. God is watching. God is loving with open arms. There is nothing you can do to nullify that love. You can’t un-beloved child yourself. And because that’s true, here’s the challenge. If you don’t know that love, or you’re not living as if that love is real, you are missing something. Turn around. Come to yourself – your true self, you true beloved self. Leave that distant country – whatever it is; addiction, rage, pettiness, pride, self-loathing, isolation, greed, hoarding, competition, gossip; whatever it is – and come home. Come home. There is a Love so deep that it’s offensively running after you. It’s on the offensive! Run in the direction toward the One who runs after you.
Or you may feel as though you’re standing outside these days. Perhaps you’re resentful. Perhaps there are people you’d rather God not love. Perhaps you define them as outsiders, and yet, you are the one refusing to enter God’s deep love. Or perhaps you feel ostracized yourself. Remember that God’s love for them cannot nullify God’s love for you. And God’s love for you cannot nullify God’s love for them. If all that is God’s is lovingly yours, your neighbors and your enemies are yours to love. Embrace them. Run after them as God runs after them. Or allow yourself to be loved by them. Enter that lavish party. You are included. There is a Love so deep that it’s offensively coming into your isolation. Enter that celebration. You were born to be included and to include others.
Know that God’s love this day – and this moment! – is here, for you, and for the world. Won’t you come in?
Renee Roederer
PPC L.I.F.T.
Pasadena Presbyterian Church
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