The Parabe of the Father

Sermon: “The Parable of a Longing, Waiting, Declaring, Running, Loving, Doting, Feasting, and Forgiving Father”

Hillside Church of Marin – 14 April 2013

Intro – Read the passage: Luke 15: 11-32

In your Bible, the heading for this passage most likely reads either, “The Parable of the Lost Son,” or “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” Both mean the same thing.

All of my life, I have read this parable from that point of view: from the one of the lost son, as the heading suggests to the reader. But recently, however, I read the first line of verse 11, and I discovered a different way, and perhaps more faithful way, of reading this passage. It reads: “There was a man who had two sons.” This story does indeed describe both the plight of a lost son and the reaction of the elder son who remained home. But the main character of this story is the FATHER. This story of a lost son is a story about a FATHER.

This morning, I want to make three moves: First, I want to examine this parable with you through the lens of the Father. Who does the Father represent? Who does the son represent? Jesus only told parables when speaking about God, so what does Jesus want us to know about our relationship with God through telling this particular parable? Second, I want to offer two images in response to this story. And last, I want to pose a question to you. Let’s hop in…

Move 1 – Verse 12: “The younger son said to his Father, “Father, give me my share of the estate.” So he divided his property between them.

Typical of Jewish and middle-eastern custom of the day, the patriarch would divide his estate amongst his sons. The firstborn son would always receive a double portion. In the case of this family with two sons, the elder son would receive 2/3 of his father’s inheritance and the younger son would receive 1/3. The elder son received more because it was his duty to provide care and provision over the women of the family, namely his mother and unwed sisters.

The catch, however, was this only came about the father died! Essentially, the son says to the father, “I wish you were dead.” It would be the equivalent of paying the highest insult that a father could receive from his children. The son says, “I am not interested in you. I am only interested in your stuff. I’ve been waiting for you to die, and since it isn’t happening anytime soon, I want to cash out now from you and the rest of the family. Give me my stuff. I want nothing to do with you and the family anymore.”

Jesus does not provide any background information to the circumstances behind this decision, but we can infer that the son was convinced that his pleasure and dreams and joy might be found in a far off and distant land rather than in his father’s presence and house. He is convinced that he will receive more joy, more pleasure, more satisfaction, more delight than in his father’s presence.

So, he receives his inheritance, cashes out, leaves the family behind, and he heads off for a distant, far off land, where his supposed joy and satisfaction awaits.

Now let’s pause for a moment right here. Jesus shares this parable to real people in a real time and place. It is tempting for us sometimes to read the Bible as a book of legends or fairy tales, but these books were not written in a vacuum in some imaginary time or place. Luke does not intend for us to passively read his letter and discuss it within a cerebral context. You are not supposed to engage with this as a mere bystander. Rather, this parable, these stories, this book, is our story.

Each one of us has gone off to the far country. You and I, we have decided during certain times in our life – perhaps even now – that we would rather go about own our lives and our own business and stiff arm anything having to do with God. Instead of leaning into this and deciding to stake our lives on the substance of the word and promises of God, we decide to chase after the things of this world that we think bring us pleasure and joy and satisfaction and fulfillment. We say to God, we are not interested in you. We are only interested in your stuff. Give me my share, I am going my own direction, and I would rather you be dead to me than alive.

Think of it like this: every kid in some shape or form goes through a period of self-righteousness against his or her parents. As many of you know, this happens typically during the teenage years, although I have heard that three year olds know quite a bit about the world, too. Kids say to their parents: I know better than you! I am more clued into the world. Mom, why do you curl your hair that way and wear oversized sweaters? Dad, why do you jack your pants up so high? You listen to music artists older than me! It’s part of going up. It’s part of the human experience. There’s even a name for it: it’s called individualization. It’s the process by which teenagers separate from the identity of their parents and carve out their own.

And you and I, we do the same thing with our Heavenly Father, right? At some point in our lives – even ongoing through our faith – we stiff arm our Heavenly Father and point out the faults of the church. We want to live our own life, make out own decisions, and carve out our own identity. We argue against the church, claiming that it feels restrictive, cramps our style, and inhibits us from living life to the full!

Of course, we know of the ones who left the church or flipped God off by leaving the faith all together in order to pursue these things, but sometimes, we may participate in this kind of rebellion in more sneaky, passive sorts of ways. Does this sound familiar: God did not answer our prayer that way I needed, or God did not come through in the way that I needed, so I am going to take a breather from the church and experience some other things for a while. Or what about this one: religion is too confining for me, and I don’t like the institution of the church. I feel more comfortable on my own. Or what about this one – this is the one that I used to define my life – I am good enough on my own, and I do not need the interference of God or the community to guide me.

Friends, this may not seem like self-righteousness. In fact, they may even seem like plausible excuses and rationalization when shared in the moment with other circumstances. But saying these things – making these decisions – separating yourself from God and the community communicates to others that you know better than God and just like the son would rather seek your own way apart from the presence of the Father.

All of us at some point in our lives do exactly this. We decide that we know better than God. Think about the trajectory of your life, your journey of faith, and how you have responded to God with your life. This is typical of every person.

In fact, this kind of thinking and response to God goes all the way back to the beginning our story – all the way back to the Garden – all the way back to the story of Adam and Eve.

The very name Eden itself means delight. Genesis 2 describes trees and vegetation that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. Eden contained everything that Adam and Eve desired for feasting and work and play – everything that Adam and Eve needed to live life to the fullest extent possible.

You know the story. Eventually, Adam and Eve arrived at the conclusion that life could be better – might be better – on the other side of Eden – outside of the control and presence of the Father. They think, “If we could just get out from underneath God, then we could really live it up – really experience life in the way that it was meant to be lived.” And the rest is history…

The same rings true for the younger son in our story. He leaves the presence of the father, and eats the forbidden fruit – so to speak – by going off to the distant land and indulging in wild – the Greek literally says, “reckless” – living and blowing his inheritance. It’s not hard for us to imagine what this looks like. He is chopping at the bit and chasing down anything that could bring him pleasure. I would imagine that the list included food, drink, sex – anything that he could get his hands on that stimulated the body – at that moment.

Last weekend, Stacy and I visited Las Vegas, the land flowing with milk and honey. Truly, in every since of the term, it is a far off and distant land. It’s an oasis, nothing around for miles. We were taken back by the beauty of the city lights against the desert mountains. It’s our nations playground. One can find anything there, and without consequence, for what happens in Vegans stays in Vegas, right?

But we don’t need to travel 10 hours to arrive at a far off and distant land. The history of our great city, San Francisco, was once just that during the height of the gold rush. During the mid part of the nineteenth century, flyers littered the East Coast cities with the promise of wealth and fortune at a little known place called San Francisco, California. Once here, make your millions and then live life in such a way that you never imagined.

You want drink, we have the best wine in the world. Food? We have the greatest culinary delights that one could imagine. What about sex? Anything goes, and no one would even blink an eye to your fantasies and desires. And wealth? We are literally meeting in one of the most expensive geographic locations in the entire world.

In the words of the great American poet, Katy Perry, you can travel the world, but nothing comes close to the golden coast.

But our community possesses a shadow side. In her highly acclaimed book, Madeline Levine writes in the second chapter, “America’s newly identified at-risk group is preteens and teens from affluent, well-educated families. In spite of their economic and social advantages, they experience among the highest rates of depression, substance abuse, anxiety disorders, somatic complaints, and unhappiness of any group of children in this country.” P. 17

In subsequent paragraphs, she tells the story of a teenage girl from Marin, who is so intent on getting accepted into an Ivy League school without forsaking her social life that she takes cocaine during the day to stay alert and numb and sleeping pills during the night to sleep. Her parents suspect it, but they do not confront it because they believe her academic success is a marker of emotional security.

Our pursuit of these desires within us – for real joy, real peace, and real pleasure – often leave our kids and our own lives in a wake of despair.

How does this happen? With all that our city and county promises, how does this happen? I believe that when we chase after those things in our world with the hope that we will find that real pleasure, real satisfaction, real joy, and real life… when we lock onto it, and sink our teeth into it and give ourself over to it – only to discover that we are still unfulfilled and without meaning, this kind of disillusionment only leaves us feeling in utter despair.

A Christian writer form the 4th century named Augustine observed this and wrote in a book titled, Confessions, that he was the definition of a hedonist. He sais that he could not consume enough beauty: beautiful tastes, bodies, sights, smells. But then he realized three things taking place in his life:

First, he realized that he always felt empty and unsatisfied.

Second, he realized that he was constantly doing things that he did not want to do, but he could not stop himself from doing it.

Third, all of his relationship continued to break up in a way that he described were outside of his own control.

All of this, he writes, led him to utter despair.

Augustine indulged in every bit of life that he could in the hope of attaining and finding true satisfaction and pleasure, but in doing so, he lost everything good in his life and reached a place of total depravity.

Is this not true when we chase after and give our lives over to the thrill and hope of vocational success? Substances? Consumption? Materialism?

Our lives may seem fulfilled until they become dashed on the rock of ultimate reality, for you and I were not created in these images. You and I share a common bond in Christ through whom God redeemed and rescued us.

And so in the words of Augustine, because you and I have been created in the image of God, then the chambers of our soul cannot be filled up with anything less.

So, the younger son goes off and parties with the world, and where does it leave him? Let’s read the text, beginning at 14: “After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.”

As often happens, reality overcomes. Famine strikes, and the hope that we placed in the futile of things of this world disappear. In desperation, he finds a job feeding pigs. But keep in mind, the younger son hails from a Jewish family and was forbidden to touch swine, let alone eat and sleep with them. He is in the lowest and most despised place possible, and from that low place, something happens.

Verse 17, “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants. So he got up and went to his father.”

In his low place, the son comes to his senses. He journeys home, and in the ears of the present day Jewish listener, they know what happens next, or at least they think they do.

Anytime a son left home under poor circumstances or circumstances that brought about shame to the family name and father, in particular, the parents, along with the entire village would meet him. The parents would bring out a pot and place it in the presence of the community and crush the pot. Then they would say to the son, “You have broken everything good, our trust, and your father’s heart. May the broken pieces of this pot symbolize the broken pieces of your life. You are not welcome in this family. They called this Kaseza, which means “Cutting Off” in Hebrew. The father would then say, I do not know you. I did have a son, but he is dead.

The son knows that he is cut off from the family. The son realizes that he is no longer worthy of the family seal, so according to his rehearsed statement, he simply wants to find a spot amongst the hired servants of the household. He knows it’s a long shot, but maybe it’s his last shot. What do you think he is feeling?

Verse 20, “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Look at the verbs that Luke uses: saw, filled with compassion, ran, threw his arms, and kissed.

The Father saw his son. He was waiting for him. He longed for him. He searched for him and made himself ready for when his son arrived home!

The Father was filled with compassion. The Jewish culture believed that the seat of compassion resided in the belly. It makes sense, for when you feel anguish for one you love, you feel it in your gut. The Greek word is called splanknon, and it literally means that your bowels turn over.

The Father ran to his son. This may be the most extraordinary action done by the father. During this day and age, Father did not run. That was an activity reserved for childish activities and young boys. Fathers, especially those in high regard and stature, considered it shameful to run. They had to hike up their skirt, show their legs, and move awkwardly. Yet, this father dashes to the boy, sprints to him, and meets him while he was still far off, perhaps even outside the village gates. And why? Of course love, but as soon as the village saw the son, what would happen? The kaseza ceremony would begin and the village would heep shame and more shame upon the son for what he did.

And so the father races to meet his boy, and subsequently, take on the shame himself for the sake of sparing his boy the consequences of his actions by the village community.

The Father threw his arms around him and kissed him. How does this happen? If the Father sat and waited for his son with contempt in his heart, then would it not make sense for the Father to clobber the son upon his arrival home? What was the Father doing while the son was away? The Father was hugging and kissing his son in his heart.

Verse 21: “The son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you, I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick!’ Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate! For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

Do you see what is happening here? Do you see the image that Jesus creates with this parable?

He is telling us of the incarnation God into our world through the person of Jesus and the atonement of our sins through his sacrifice on the cross. We abandoned God. We forsook his presence, choosing our own path for the sake of our own desires, and it resulted in our despair.

But God, in his grace and mercy, chose to wear our shame and spared no expense for our restoration, even an expense paid on a cross.

Let me offer now two images in response to this story. First, in a study done in 2005 called the National Study on Youth and Religion concluded that almost 90% of teenagers in the US believe in God, and nearly 70% of adults. But the image of God in which many of these students and adults believe differs quite dramatically from what we just read. In fact, the researchers of the study described this as “Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. It is a combination of 5 core beliefs that include:

1. A god exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God does not need to be particularly involved in one's life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.

5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

Now, let me offer a second picture from what we read of this parable. We observe a God who runs after us, throws his arms over us, kisses us, and is filled with compassion for us. We read about God who spares no expense for us. He goes all the way for us. He longs for us. He sacrifices his resources for us. He puts a ring on his finger and calls us his own, even when we did not deserve it. And he took our shame away from us and carried it himself.