This sermon was preached at Trinity Lutheran Church, Tailem Bend (9 am) and St. Johns Lutheran Church, Karoonda (11 am).
Want to
know what's so great about this parable? Everything. Also, that
it's about families, which all of us have in one way or another. But
this parable is about a family that isn't quite like any earthly
family. And those differences are where all the enjoyment comes
from.
So Jesus
told a parable: There once was a son with a bad conscience. He made
poor life decisions, yeah? Careless and wild living. But it's easy
to skip over that he asked his father for his share of the
inheritance. That's a big insult, because what has to happen
normally to receive an inheritance? The person has to die. So what
is the son saying to his father? I wish you were dead, I'm treating
you like you were dead, all these and worse. Big insult.
So two
things happen when he receives the inheritance, and they're related.
He leaves, and he has a bad conscience. He leaves because his
community would have noticed what he did to his father, and it would
seem that he leaves because he doesn't want to have to deal with any
of that: either the reaction of the community or dealing with life in
his father's house. In this situation, what could he do right? All
that's right for him is what he wants; that's a bad conscience. But
look what the bad conscience gets him? “He squandered his property
in reckless living.” The bad conscience leads to more bad
decisions. The son is now lost, lost in a pig sty, and in need.
But the
other side of this parable is: There once was a father who was also
kinda reckless. What's more surprising than his son asking for his
inheritance now? That the father gives it to him! That's the
surprise. He just does it. Doesn't he know that what his son is
doing isn't okay? Yes, he does. How do we know? Because when the
son comes back, the father sees him from far away. How would he do
that unless he was looking, and constantly grieving and looking for
the return of his lost son?
And
there's the biggest surprise of the parable: it's not that the son
comes to himself. That's obvious: “I'm in the wrong here. And I'm
starving. My father's servants aren't starving, they're doing pretty
well for themselves. I'll just go back, confess that I'm in the
wrong, and ask to be a servant, and that will be my life from now
on.” That makes a lot of sense. But the surprise is what the
father does. He humiliates himself by running to his son. An
important man wouldn't run like this, especially because it means
picking up your robes a bit and exposing your legs and that was a
huge humiliation in the ancient world. And at any rate, it's the son
who should have been running to him. And he throws himself on his
son in love. So what does the son say? “I did wrong. Make me a
servant”? Do we realize how silly that sounds? He doesn't say
that. He only says, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and
before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” That's
it. As if the father would even let him say more. He calls for the
son to be dressed, not like a servant, but like a son from head to
foot. Here's a reckless father. He gives his son his spot back in
the family, which he in no way earned, and this is the most important
part, in no way COULD he earn it. Not that overwhelming love.
Now you,
you have a Savior who is just as reckless, generous, loving, and
compassionate as this father in the parable. He threw himself on the
cross, humiliating himself, for you. In baptism he gives you his own
spot, to give you everything he has as the only Son of the Father.
You have a Savior who loves lost things, and so he died for you.
But
don't think that you can use this parable to show that the father
thought whatever his son did was okay. Never use this parable to
bless sin. When the father rejoices at having his son back, that's
only possible if he was silently mourning what his son did. Jesus
didn't bless sin, but he didn't write angry newspaper editorials and
just leave it at that. He didn't go to war, he surrendered. He
surrendered his life because of sin, to forgive sin and to give
eternal life through him. Sometimes the biggest hammer of the Law is
the grief of a family member who loves you anyway. And, on the other
hand, if we do so many things in life to make our family happy, how
much more important is it when it comes to something God has
commanded. Luther talks this way in the Large Catechism on the
Lord's Supper. He says, 'Don't do this on my account, but that the
Lord said “This, do”. Don't do this for my sake, but for your
own!”
But I
digress.
And you
know, there was another son, and he was also lost (in a different
way), but he had the same father who rejoiced to have mercy. There
was a son who heard the sounds of a feast, of rejoicing, but refused
to come in. Now, as the eldest, he was off working, but as the
eldest it was his job to be the host of the feast. He refuses, and
so the father has to come out of the feast to the son. That's
another example of the father humiliating himself for the sake of his
son. And he does it!
There
was a father who was grieved by his “good” son's lies. He says
he's never disobeyed his father (when what did he just do?), and
worse yet he thinks that he's a servant and not a son. He says,
“Look, these many years I have served you.” He thinks he's
earned everything he's gotten. And so he despises the compassion of
his father. But the father shows that the real gift is being a son:
“Son, you are always with me, and all that's mine is yours.”
What does the father do? He points his son to the joy of forgiveness
(“It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother
was dead, and is alive, he was lost, and is found.”), and he never
pointed his son to anything he could earn.
There is
a Savior who gives a good conscience, went to the cross because
unbelief isn't okay, and because you can't earn grace. Luther says
that the promises and gifts of Holy Communion are an even more
important reason to go than the fact that God commands it and takes
it seriously. If God really and truly gives forgiveness of sins,
life, and salvation, if Christ humiliates himself enough to put his
true body and blood in your mouth and on your tongue, who wouldn't
run to receive this great gift and take the Lord at his word?
There is
a Savior who has Christians that are like him because they're
forgiven: they don't go to war, and scream and shout. In sadness
they shake the dust off their feet. They know that without the work
of the Holy Spirit there would be no saving bonds between God and us
at all. The rejoice over the things he rejoices over: the
forgiveness of sins.
Conclusion:
Our Lord Jesus lives to forgive; we aren't made alive by earning
this.
(Because
who could?).
Amen.
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