Jesus continued, “There
was a man who had two sons”.
Most people probably know at least something about
this verse. It is from Luke 15:11. And the story that follows is most often
referred to as the parable of the “Prodigal Son”. The parable is part of three
separate stories that Luke 15 contains about being lost; a lost sheep, a lost
coin, and here in verses 11-32, a “lost” son.
I have preached and taught, written and studied, about
this lost-ness many times over the years. Most often we are told to see
ourselves as the prodigal son, the one who leaves home and does what he or she wants,
and then realizes what he left behind, and so the ‘prodigal’ comes back home. There
is a deep truth in that for each of us, we are this son. The story is a call to
come back home, and the welcome that our Father will give us with open armed
forgiveness, grace, and even a heavenly party.
Sometimes perhaps we see ourselves as the older
brother, the one who stayed home and worked for his father while his little brother
squandered his inheritance and then only came home when his good times friends
had left him and his money was gone. He wasn’t happy at his father’s reaction
when his partying little brother decided to come home. He felt like he deserved
more since he had followed the rules, he had worked hard, he had been there.
There is a deep truth in that for each of us, we are this brother at times as
well. It is a reminder of how much God loves all of His children, uniquely and
collectively.
And it is God who we see as the Father in this
story. The one who graciously gives to his son and lets him go, and then
graciously accepts him back into the family when he returns home. There is no
long lecture, there is no “I told you so”, there is simply acceptance in love. There
is a party thrown, a celebration because this son was “dead and is alive again;
he was lost and is found” (Luke 15:33).
Maybe you can identify with the father in this story
as well. I know some of you who have had a child leave and you waited day after
day until she returned. I know some of you who are still waiting.
December
19, 2019 gave me a new perspective on this story. It was the day that my
daughter left a note and left home.
Jesus doesn’t tell us what the father did while the
son was gone.
But
now I know.
He
prayed for his child every day. He sent letters and texts, and emails, and
snaps. He got angry, and sad, and frustrated. He grieved what felt like the
death of his child, even though his child was not physically dead, but day to
day he never even really knew that for sure.
He wondered how this could happen. Why did this
happen? Weren’t they a happy family? Didn’t his kids really love each other?
Didn’t his child really love him? Where did they go wrong? How could his child
feel that leaving a 3-page note was easier than talking to her parents?
And so he every day he checked his mailbox, checked
his inbox, checked to see if the text had been read, checked to see if the snap
had been opened, checked the obituaries.
He hugged his wife more often and cried for no
apparent reason other than for seeing a picture that his daughter had painted,
or hearing a song that she liked. He ate dried banana chips, even though he
never liked them, because it was one of her favorite snacks.
In the parable the son came home. Maybe yours will
too. Maybe mine will. I don’t know. What I do know is how much the father
loves, and the hole in the father’s heart when the child walks away. And the
father’s longing to have that child come home.
I have a new perspective on this story now. I didn’t
want it. But I have it. Gender identity and pronoun usage aren’t as big of a
deal when your child is gone, you just want them back.
I have four other amazingly wonderful children that I
thank God for every day. And yet every day I look for the one who is gone.
I only have a human glimpse into the pain that God
feels as we turn away from Him, for the sadness God feels when He reaches out
every single day to talk to us and we ignore Him and don’t respond. If you’re
waiting on someone today, keep waiting. Keep praying. Don’t give up, because
God never gave up on us.
One day we will be in the very presence of God
forever, and any pain here will be gone, and every tear will wiped away. One
day reconciliation will be complete and perfect. And until that day comes, I
will continue waiting, and looking, and longing for the day when I can say, “we
have to celebrate and be glad, because this sister of yours was dead and is
alive again, was gone and now she is home, she was lost and now is found”.
