More like the Father

In Luke 15:11-32, we find the well-worn "story" of the Prodigal Son. It's so well known that even people that know nothing of the Bible know this story. Earlier this year, I was reading Steve McVey’s Grace Walk, where he concluded that both brothers missed the goal, which was relationship with the Father. One brother felt like his misbehavior forfeited his status as son. The other son hoped his work would make Daddy happy. Truth is, they were both still his sons, no matter what they did. When I was a kid, My Dad told me, in a similar vein to an old song by Steve and Annie Chapman that if I were president, I'd be his son. If I were a prisoner, I'd still be his son. Wow!

Isn’t it amazing when God takes a passage you know so well and blows it wide open all over again? Check out the language the older brother used to talk to his father in verse 30. He calls his brother "this son of yours." He didn't even acknowledge him as his little brother; he had been reduced to his father's son, and no brother of mine. You can almost hear the contempt in his voice and the venom in his words. I can sense bitterness in him; betrayal that his father didn't view this brat the same way. Where the father is the very picture of mercy, grace and forgiveness, the older brother is the polar opposite. He holds up his obedience and discipline as a trophy for his father to see. But, the father doesn't even glance at them. Instead, He reminds him that he currently is and always will be his son, and that the other boy is still his brother. In verse 32, the father uses the older brother's phrase to throw back at him that they are still a family. He says, "This brother of yours was dead and is now alive. He was lost and is now found." He invited the son to drop his pride, bitterness and anger, sense of injustice and contempt and join the party because they are still family.

Reading this, I look at the symbolism Jesus uses. He never explains this one out like he does with the parable of the farmer sowing seeds. He's telling this parable in a series of parables to the Pharisees. The point wasn't lost on them. If the younger brother is a person who is running from God's love and the Father equals God, then I see the older brother as the long-time Christian/Churchgoer who has allowed piety and service to be their God, not Jesus. Someone like the Pharisees! The older brother had focused so much on the stuff he did for his father that he had missed the relationship with him. Because he was tied more to his work instead of his Father, he didn't become more like his father. The more time you s
pend with someone, the more alike you become ("He acts just like his dad!"). The problem is, too often, people get wrapped up in church stuff instead of being wrapped up in Jesus. Jesus, the very picture of grace, love, mercy and forgiveness looks different than his followers who have missed Him. Who are the most judgmental people you know? So many times it's the people who have followed Jesus the longest. Shouldn't they be the first in line to love and forgive when someone is drowning in sin? God would be, and if we who have been Christians are quick to be judge and jury to pronounce condemnation on those far from God, who have we been following? If we were close to God and not our rules, we would be more like Him. Our hearts would line up with his, and people would be flocking to Jesus because they feel God's love in the everyday Christ-followers they encounter.

When we feel like we're doing all the right things and following all the rules, we tend to love God's justice and wrath more than his grace and mercy because we feel like we deserve to be called His followers more than those filthy, godless, flesh-seekers. That's why people call us hypocrites, because we love God's grace and mercy when he forgives us, but refuse grace and mercy towards those we deem unworthy. None of us deserve it! God Loves! We're the ones who spoil it.

I know it sounds flowery and prosaic, but these are the lines that came to mind when I thought about all I try to hold up for him to see:
Oh, How differently my
trophies shine
when God’s light falls
on them.
Now, they look broken and
rusted instead of the
dazzling gold I thought
they were when seen
in the light of my own piety.