(1) How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty! (2) My
soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for
the living God. (3) Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young - a place near your altar, O LORD Almighty, my King and my
God. (4) Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. Selah.
-- Psalm 84: 1-4
(1) Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear
him. (2) But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes
sinners and eats with them."
(11) Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. (12) The younger one said
to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property
between them.
(13) Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a
distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. (14) After he had spent
everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need.
(15) So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his
fields to feed pigs. (16) He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were
eating, but no one gave him anything. (17) When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many
of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! (18) I will
set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and
against you. (19) I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your
hired men.' (20) So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with
compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. (21) The
son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer
worthy to be called your son.'
(22) But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on
him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. (23) Bring the fattened calf and
kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. (24) For this son of mine was dead and is alive
again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
(25) Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard
music and dancing. (26) So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on.
(27) 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf
because he has him back safe and sound.' (28) The older brother became angry and refused
to go in.
So his father went out and pleaded with him. (29) But he answered his father, 'Look!
All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never
gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. (30) But when this son of
yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened
calf for him!'
(31 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.
(32) But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is
alive again; he was lost and is found.'"
-- Luke 15: 1-2, 11-32
It seems that most of us like to root for any underdog that turns his or her life
around and then does good. We love a good comeback story where the loser becomes a winner.
Whenever a nobody becomes a somebody, we cheer and hold a parade.
Born in a rural log cabin on the edge of nowhere, Abe Lincoln is elected President and
becomes our nation's most esteemed leader ever. Or, for example, the UCLA football team:
from parking in handicapped spaces to tromping number three Alabama, they are the comeback
kids. Or our own President: for all the deserved venom that has been hurled at him for his
reprobate ways, according to the polls he remains remarkably popular because the scalawag
is the comeback kid.
We love rogues and wretches because after we gooseneck and gawk at the freeway accident
of moral failure, we're attracted to a good turnaround story where the rogue ends up at
the party and we all have a good time.
So it is with the prodigal son. The story confirms our hope that somehow in God's
economy the wastrel gets another chance. The lost are found, the blind see and to top it
off there's a grand banquet for the sinners. Grill the fatted calf, uncork the Coors, and
sit back and watch the football game.
Even those among us with outstanding moral character may, if we care to admit it,
acknowledge we've known prodigal ways. Our tail maybe tucked between our legs for some
indiscretion, but soon there's a party and all is forgotten. The real phonies are the
purse-lipped, constipated super-religious types who, after all, wouldn't know what a
little fun is.
Who is this prodigal son? We know the type. The prodigal is on the soaps and in the
movies and, since this is silly season, he's on the campaign trail. Each one of you knows
a family member who could be this character. She's the niece with the great bod whose had
more boyfriends than fingers on the hands and questionable judgment. She can wrap anyone
around her finger but when you're with her she's just plain fun. He's the hunk with the
beach tan and the cute smile who asks for a personal loan just this one last time and you
give it to him because he's family and, you confess, it's the charm.
The prodigal son cozies up to Dad and says, "Pop. The market's good. Never been
better. How about my cut from the inheritance right now? I could use the change." Old
Dad's a soft touch and off the spoiled brat goes with a cash bulging in his pockets. Its
off to the country club with four curvaceous models hanging on his sleeve and extra
bottles of champagne for the whole bar. He sows his wild oats, several fields of it, until
the cash runs out and all the charge cards are denied. Suddenly friends disappear and the
doors slam shut. He's face down on skid row now. Stomach growling and plain tired, just
plain tired of rejection, empty wine bottles and pigeon dung, he relies on the one thing
he has left: his wits.
He's not stupid. He's got a keen mind. The same mind that conned Old Pops goes to work.
"Dad paid the farm hands well and there were perks on the side, fresh mutton and
vegetables and a warm bed to lay your head. In fact, those hired hands have it pretty darn
good."
He picks himself out of the gutter and declares, "I'll get religion." Off he
strides back to the promised land rehearsing the carefully crafted speech. "Forgive
me Pops, I mean Father, I am a sinner. Forgive me." A tear leaks out of the corner of
his eye. "Any chance a spring lamb is ready for a roasting? I'll set the table for
Mom."
In the three urban churches I have served, it's pretty common for some guy to come to
the office window to say, "There something heavy weighing on my soul. Is there a
pastor here." Comfy in the confidence of the pastor's office he'll say, "Pastor,
I need to confess my sin. I've done something awful. Could I have a little extra cash to
pay the rent?"
We know what soup kitchen conversions are. The rap isn't complicated: "In the name
of Jesus, precious Jesus, hand over the cash." You see, the prodigal may be down and
out but he's no fool. He knows where the bread is buttered and the helpings are piled
high. So off he goes to the farm toward Old Pops with carefully sculpted words he recalls
memorizing in Sunday School.
It's a fair hike, but up around the corner the old homestead will soon appear with food
a plenty for a growling stomach. But wait! The old man is heading down the lane. The
geezer breaks into a run and throws his arms around his lost son in an embrace that breaks
the bones before the rascal can get half the words out of his stunned mouth. "Kill
the fatted calf. Light the charcoal. Go down to the wine cellar and pull out a case of the
finest Chardonnay." Dad has the servants put Gucci's on his feet and an Armani suit
around his shoulders instead of his homeless rags. It's time to party. It's going to be
one heck-of-a-fine party tonight. It was. There was a rock-n-roll band and Rock of Ages.
Hymns of praise and a lot of jamming. Nothing but joy in one great heavenly banquet here
on earth.
But wait! Did you notice there's no sermon. No fatherly lecture. No stern conditions.
No making amends. No confession. Nothing but joy and a banquet!
Of course, it couldn't be all that simple, so the plot thickens. There's that
hard-working older brother arriving from the "south 40" to deal with. He's
probably Presbyterian. You know the type: respectable, moral and a. little constipated.
"No way am I joining that party. No way, father. You throw a party for that son of
yours?" There's no brotherly love here. Only judgment. On cue, we hiss.
Then the father surprises us all again. "'Son, you are always with me, and all
that is mine is yours." Right then and there, the father gives away the rest of the
farm to the holier-then-thou older brother. What's going on here? Both sons make hay. A
party is thrown, the father gives away everything, and the sons gain the whole world. The
debauched con artist is restored to kingly status. The self-righteous moralist at whom we
jeered is given the rest of the farm, as well. Nobody has converted. Nobody has fallen on
their knees. No Calvinist worming where we cry out, "Forgive me, Father. I am a
miserable sinner." What is going on here?
How is it that the father can forgive sins with no preconditions? This is cheap grace.
Bonhoeffer wouldn't like this. This is Christian lite. There is no judgment, no "Go
and sin no more," only forgiveness. This is sheer foolishness. There are no limits to
the father's mercy and forgiveness. This is sheer foolishness - like a naked God who dies
on cross.
What extravagant love is this? Is it that we worship a God who has no limits to
compassion? Are we saying that there is nothing that we need to do to earn God's
acceptance? Are we saying that there are no preconditions, no repentance, no prenuptial
agreements before we are embraced by this loving God of such extravagant grace?
The Apostle Paul issues these confusing and liberating words from his first letter to
the Corinthians, "The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are
perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God" (I Corinthians
1:18).
It is foolishness this unconditional, extravagant love. It is the Good News of Jesus
Christ, our Lord and our Savior. God not only loves us, but is love. God is complete,
infinite, and all-embracing love.
We worship a God who gives up everything, even to the point of dying on a cross between
two thieves on a lonely hill to welcome us home. This God welcomes all of us, sinners and
saints, into this home, God's home. Like a mother who will not forsake her nursing child,
like a father who runs to welcome the prodigal home, this is our God in whose compassion
lies our salvation.
Thanks be to the God whose extravagant love welcomes us home whoever we are, whatever
we have done or left undone. Thanks be to God for party that we are about to enjoy a
heavenly feast here on earth. Amen.
