When my friendly neighborhood pastor began
to unpack these stories, he challenged us to look at the stories to see what
was similar and what was different. Of course, we have three things that are
lost: a sheep, a coin, and then a son. Two are looked for and one is not. What
I did not see then is that two are lost while the third is dead.
It is a nice little thought. But is it accurate?
I have been gnawing on these ideassince Sunday, and I
have no answers. Just more questions, which is not unlike me.
Why would the coin and sheep be sought but the son would
not?
If the father is God the Father, why would He just wait for
repentance? Of course, this might not be a sinner per se, what if this is a
person who trusted God as their Father only to leave because it wasn’t very
much fun. I still want a parent that will come after me-not to shame me or
lecture me, but to remind me that I am loved and valued, and that the pigpen is
not meant for me.
I always thought that the eldest brother was the boring and “better
than” person in church. The one who changed all those bad behaviors and looks
like the perfect Christian, only to discover a lack of love and a hardened heart.
What if the youngest was just a picture of a rebellious child of God? We know
where our home is, but we want to experience things and to see the world
because home isn’t all we dreamt life was about?
Drifting away isn’t too hard. We spend less and less time at
home, miss family dinners, don’t bother talking with our father since he doesn’t
get it anyway. The world offers answers, easy relationships without
expectations, and luxuries. The more our heart is away from home and in the
world, the less we want to go back home.
Unfortunately, we often end up in a pigpen of some sort.
When the shiny excitement has worn off, when the relationships aren’t just easy
but empty, when the answers ring hollow and don’t sit well, then we are
reminded of home. Home with a father who loved us enough to give us most
anything we requested, with our needs all met and most of our wants, with
comfort and security. We begin to ask ourselves what are we doing out here,
cold, hungry, alone, and miserable?
Is it as easy as turning around, confessing how we hurt the
person, and resuming our life?
For some perhaps, but I am with the son in the parable. Grace
is hard. Grace is humbling. Grace is
difficult to accept when you feel so unworthy. I would be fine sleeping on the
floor in simple clothes as a servant. I would be fine never being called a son
again if I were safe and cared for. Knowing that my father is willing to care
for me is more than I deserve.
So it is with God the Father. I don’t know what to do with His
love and His grace. It is hard to accept because I know who I was, who I can
still be. It is humbling because it is a gift that doesn’t right to refuse,
even if I wanted to. It is difficult because I am unworthy, and I am ashamed since
I cannot imagine that I ever will be. What do we do with this? Grace is such a
small word for a concept that is so loaded.
When we finally crawl out of our pigpen, the father’s first
action is to greet with affection and joy. There is no judgement of how you
smell or shaming that you obviously did not find what you were looking for or
even judgement that you left. He brings out the best clothing to cover the
filth and wounds. He has rich food brought to nourish the broken-down body. He demonstrates
the value of the son in both word and action. The text never tells us how the
son takes all these gifts. Though I imagine he struggled. Perhaps when he woke
the next morning or in month, he remembered the time in the world as a bad dream.
Maybe in time his cheeks no longer become hot, and his eyes no longer seek the
floor when he remembers. I hope that he was able to hear his father call him
son and not flinch in his shame. I hope this for all of us.
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