In the awesome video from Sunday, we see what might be an all too familiar scene: a husband and wife fighting. In this case, she walks out on him, rejecting her husband and choosing a “fun” life over the stability and safety of her husband’s love. They try counseling – but she’s not really into it, and stops making any effort at reconciliation after the first session.
In Luke 15, Jesus tells a maybe better known version of this story: “the Parable of the Prodigal Son.” In the parable, a younger son does the unthinkable and demands his inheritance before his father’s death. Even more shocking, the father obliges his son, sells off land and livestock, and hands his son the money. The whole town would have known about this, and the father’s shame would have been very public. The son, ignoring the effects on his Dad, takes his windfall and travels to “a far country,” where he lives it up. He has a good time with his new “friends.” But the money dries up and the “friends” disappear – and soon the formerly rich kid is in rags feeding hogs. Remember, this is a Jewish boy… feeding hogs.
Having hit rock bottom, he finally comes to his senses and realizes that not only is the grass not greener on this side of the fence, but that he had already had all he ever wanted back at home. “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger!” (vs. 17). He begins the long journey home, no doubt practicing his speech all the way, expecting the justifiable anger of the father he rejected.
But that’s not what happens, is it? His father sees him coming from a distance, hitches up his robes and – in an embarrassingly undignified display – runs to meet his dirty, smelly son. His son never gets the well-rehearsed speech out. His father has been waiting all that time, ready to reconcile, to welcome his son “back from the dead” (vs. 32).
The Other Prodigal Son
There’s another story in Luke 15 that we often overlook – the story of the older brother. He’s been the good kid, the obedient kid. As often happens in a family with a rebellious child, the older brother may have responded by finding his identity as the “good son.” He was a rule follower, and probably was well-respected in town – especially compared to his screw-up of a younger brother. When the younger son returns, the older brother is doing what good sons should do: he’s out working in his father’s fields.
His reaction is predictable: he’s angry. He feels like he’s missed out – after all, if the younger son can live it up, embarrass the family and then come home and apparently not suffer any consequences, then why should the older brother keep doing the right thing? Grace is rarely acceptable to older brothers, because grace is for those who don’t do the right thing. So the older brother stops obeying, stops doing the right thing, and rebels in every bit as public a manner. Instead of being the public face of the family at the “welcome home” party (as would have been expected of him), he stands outside, seething – knowing full well this would have raised eyebrows and brought shame on his father. And so once more, the father stoops to accommodate a prodigal son. He leaves his guests and goes out to his older son and patiently explains himself (v.31-32).
As we look at Hosea – and specifically his unfaithful, cheating wife – it’s important that we all understand that we are Gomer. None of us gets to be the good guy in this story. While they were very different, both of the sons in the story were rebellious, disobedient. Both wanted their father’s stuff instead of their father. And when they didn’t get what they thought they were entitled to, they didn’t have any problem acting in ways that would embarrass and shame their father in front of others.
We’re just like this, aren’t we? Our “love” for God is often very pragmatic, very transactional. We obey God because we want His stuff, His blessings. And – like Israel, if He doesn’t give it to us, then we go looking for it elsewhere (a job, title, or paycheck? Social esteem? A relationship?). It’s not until we see the emptiness and futility of life in “a far country,” over “on the other side of the fence” that we return to seek God on any terms He’ll offer. That’s also where we find Him waiting, with open arms. Like the rejected husband in the video, He’s been been watching, waiting to reconcile, because His love is bigger, deeper… and more stubborn than even our repeated rejection of Him.
So – regardless of which prodigal son you are – will you return to Him? Will you recognize your need for grace on any terms God will give you? In Luke 15, the story ends with the son still outside. It doesn’t say whether he went in to the celebration, to the joy, to the love or whether he stayed outside, bitter and angry. How will you respond to your Father’s love?
Add Your Comment