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| Engraving of the Prodigal Son as a swineherd by Hans Sebald Beham, 1538 |
Pastor Tom Johnson, March 27, 2022
Jesus is sitting at the table with tax collectors and sinners. The Pharisees and scribes grumble. They criticize Jesus for welcoming sinners to the table and eating with them. Jesus breaks bread with the outcasts and the marginalized. Jesus’ antidote to their pride, self-righteousness, and judgmental attitudes is to tell these religious leaders a series of parables about lost things—a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost child. When that which was lost is found, they say, “Rejoice with me.” They gather others around to celebrate their homecoming.
And so it is with the son who disrespects his father and his inheritance he cashes out. The son is so impatient and unfeeling that he wishes his father was already dead so that he can enjoy the wealth he left him. He squanders his inheritance in dissolute living. He is like the 70% of those who win a million or 500 million dollars in the lottery. These lottery winners spend every last dime within 5 years and have nothing to show for their fortune. This prodigal son is in a self-imposed exile presumably so that he will not be held accountable for his poor choices and outrageous behavior. The economy takes a downturn during a famine. He is broke. He is hungry. He is desperate.
As a Jew, he compromises himself even further by working as a farmhand for the local pig farmer. He carries the pig fodder out to the swine which are considered unclean by the Law of Moses. His hunger is so intense that the pig slop starts to look appetizing. This is rock bottom for him and when he “comes to himself.” That is literally what our text says: “He came to himself.” The prodigal son realizes that he was out of his mind. He comes back. He does an audit of his life-choices. He reflects on his own history and where it has brought him. He starts to utilize his prefrontal cortex—the executive function of his mind. He comes to himself. He starts to thumb through the archives of his own soul. He realizes his spiritual bankruptcy started before he left his father’s house. His poverty of soul is how he could be so foolish as to leave his father’s loving care. He comes to himself. He parents himself based upon his benevolent father. He says to himself, “Self, you had it pretty good. But you squandered it. Your Father is good and generous—even to his hired hands. Go and offer yourself not as a son but as a hired hand.”
This is the bedrock of repentance. Experts in recovery say that we must often hit rock bottom before we come to ourselves. We need to exhaust our energy, time, and resources. We need to do some soul-searching and realize our spiritual bankruptcy before we are ready to see—and receive—the help we need. We finally realize all the good things in our lives are treasures and gifts from God. We realize we always live by the grace and mercy of a benevolent God. As Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God.” Outside the security of God’s love, we are all lost. Without his love we have no anchor in life. We are lost—like the sheep. “All of us like sheep have wandered away each has turned to their own way.” But God is on the pursuit of us! We come to ourselves by the power of the Holy Spirit so that we can come to God by faith. How have we sold ourselves out to worldly pursuit of riches and pleasure? How have you and I been lured away from the love of our Heavenly Father?
This is the true nature of sin—not just behaviors outside societal norms like the religious leaders held. No, sin wants to seduce us, cause us to wander into unbelief, self-absorption, and self-pleasure. Sin may grant us momentary pleasure but will always leave us empty and in a muddy pit of despair. That is why we are in a state of losing ourselves—self-imposed exile—when we will not acknowledge our brokenness and that we are “poor, miserable sinners” as we confessed at the beginning of the service. The word miserable does not mean “unhappy” or “wretched.” No, it means being in a pitiable state or needing mercy. When we come to ourselves, we realize that God’s mercy withholds the judgment and condemnation we deserve. When we come to ourselves, we realize that God’s grace gives us freely what we do not deserve like forgiveness and eternal life. We realize, like the prodigal, our sin is against heaven—not just against ourselves or our neighbor. We come to our miserable selves and re-prioritize our relationship with God. We love him because he first loved us.
At the end of Jesus’ story, it’s the older brother who is now in self-imposed exile. He will not enter the party his father is throwing for his younger brother. He feels slighted that his father has not thrown him a party like that. He feels entitled. He has yet to understand the same grace and mercy his younger brother discovered in the muddy pig pit. What will it take for him to come to himself? He also needs to come to himself before he joyfully enters the feast. What will it take for the Pharisees and scribes to answer Jesus’ invitation to the table: “Rejoice with me!” Come to yourselves, religious leaders, for you are also sinners needing mercy! Remember the love of the Father—how he lavishly takes care of everyone and treats even his hired hands as true daughters and sons.
What do we do about our children and grandchildren that seem to have lost their way in this world? How do we call them back to themselves and back to our Heavenly Father? We do it the way the father does in our story: we love the stranger, the server in the restaurant, the clerk at the grocery store. We love God and unconditionally love others. We welcome sinners knowing that we ourselves are sinners. We blaze a trail of love behind us so clearly that others can also find their way home. So we come to ourselves and receive the love of God the Father as his beloved children. We come to the table spread out before us. He does not just welcome us. He implores us to come just as we are. He puts a ring on our finger. He dresses us up in his righteousness. And he welcomes us back home for the feast.
And now at length discerning the evil that we do,
Behold us, Lord, returning with hope and trust to you.
In haste you come to meet us and home rejoicing bring,
In gladness there to greet us with calf and robe and ring.
(“Our Farther, We Have Wandered,” WOV 733, v. 2)
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