Today’s reading is Luke 15:1-16:31.

I am once again reminded of the compassion God has given me and of the compassion I need to have for others.

For a long time, I’ve been enamored with the concept of “tough love.” Basically, what I thought that meant was if someone made their own bed, they had to lie in it. Sure, if someone through no fault of their own had a hard time in some area, emotionally, mentally, physically, financially, spiritually, then I would be there to help them out of their tight spot. That is, of course, the loving thing to do. However, if their trouble was in their own doing, my job was to be like wisdom in Proverbs 1:26, and laugh at their calamity. 

But then here is this story about a father and two brothers. This prodigal made his bed. He demanded his inheritance before the time. He wasted it on profligate living. He destroyed his own life. He comes back to his father. Will the father show tough love? Will he tell the son to pull himself up by the bootstraps and get out of his own mess he so willingly made? Will he accepts the son’s idea of being a servant and working his way out of it? That’s kind of an intermediate idea. “You have to work your way out of it, but I’ll help you get a job.” No. The father does none of these things. The father just shows love. He accepts the son back as his son. He shows mercy and grace.

The older brother, on the other hand, is livid. He’s all for tough love. “This son of yours” he calls the brother. He doesn’t deserve this. But of course not. If he deserved it, it wouldn’t be mercy and grace, would it? “He made his own bed. If he had been more like me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

I get two things out of this. I’m reminded that I am the prodigal. I’m not the son who stayed with the father the whole time (though, I think the older brother was not being honest with himself when he tried to claim he had always done what the father wanted, but that is another post). I’m the son who went into the far country, looking for meaning and fulfillment elsewhere. However, I never found it. Instead, I found things that left me broken and empty. I was eating pods with the pigs. I too came back to the Father with the idea that I could somehow be His servant, earning my keep. Then perhaps someday I could work my way up and deserve His love again…maybe. But, instead of demanding I earn my keep, He brought out the fattened calf and celebrated with me. He put a robe on my back and a ring on my finger and, because of His love, declared me His son. Wow! I needed that.

The second thing is I need to recognize that same thing with others. I’m a returning prodigal who has been shown mercy, grace and love. How can I show anything less to the other returning prodigals? Of course, I should not enable anyone to live in sin or continue with prodigal living. I should not be a codependent rescuer. That would be participating in their sin (Ephesians 5:11). If we keep the phrase “tough love” to mean we stay lovingly detached from those who want to stay in their problems and establish boundaries for our continued aid, then okay. But withholding mercy, grace, and aid from those who penitently seek it is not tough love. It is not love at all. We’ve all made our beds. If our Father forced us to lie in them, where would we be? If we do the same to our fellow returning prodigals, where would they be? 

I am reminded of two things today. I have been shown great mercy. I need to also be merciful.

Keep the faith and keep reading,

ELC

James Joseph Jacques Tissot-"The Prodigal in Modern Life: The Return"

Today’s reading is Luke 15:1-16:31.

Luke 15:33 stood out most to me in today’s reading.

“What?!” you say, “There is no Luke 15:33.” Exactly, and that is what stands out the most to me. Don’t you feel the story of the prodigal’s brother just ends kind of abruptly? What happened next. Did the older son soften and enter the party? Did he argue more with his Father? Did he stalk off and hold it against his brother for the rest of their lives? Did he slowly come around to seeing things like the Father? What happened next?

John MacArthur raised this question in his book A Tale of Two Sons. His answer shocked me. He pointed out the reason this story stops abruptly is because when Jesus told it, the story hadn’t ended yet. However, the story did come to an end. The older brother grabbed a stick and beat his father to death with it.

Think about it. Who does the older brother represent? The Pharisees and scribes who grumbled against Jesus, the father figure, who was eating and celebrating with the tax collectors and sinners, the prodigals. Instead of rejoicing that these sinners were accepting the salvation offered by God through Jesus Christ, the Pharisees and scribes stood outside the celebration whining, moaning, complaining.

Jesus told three stories in succession to make his point. If a shepherd said he found his lost sheep, the Pharisees and scribes would rejoice with him. If a woman found her lost coin, the scribes and Pharisees would rejoice with her. However, a father is finding his lost children and the Pharisees and scribes are pitching a huge fit. As Jesus ends His telling of the story, He essentially says to the Pharisees and scribes, “The ball is in your court. What will you do with it?” 

Sadly, instead of rejoicing, they plotted to kill Jesus. They didn’t want this radical who was turning their religion on its head speaking of forgiveness for these irreligious people just because they turned and submitted to Him. If folks would be saved, they needed to turn to the Pharisees and scribes and jump through their hoops. They would prove it. They would put Jesus to death and then where would He be and where would all those sinners be?

Of course, you know that their action is what actually secured salvation for us. However, the point of these parables is not to see how our salvation was secured. In fact, if we check this context, the point of these parables is not actually to teach us the lessons about the prodigal and his return to the father. That was simply the means to get to the point of how the Pharisees and scribes would not rejoice when sinners came to Jesus.

How do I act when someone comes to Jesus? Especially, how do I act when someone comes to Jesus who has hurt me and those close to me? How do I act if someone dressed differently, with tattoos, piercings, spiked hair and chains comes to our assembly? How do I act when the person who cheated on my best friend seeks forgiveness? How do I act when someone who is “clearly” worse than me, wants to be part of Christ’s church? How do I act when the person who stabbed me in the back on the job shows up at a friend’s invitation to our assembly?

As with all illustrations, this parable breaks down. The fact is, these Pharisees and scribes were just as much prodigals as the tax collectors and sinners. The question for me is having been a prodigal myself, how do I act towards those who are still slopping with the hogs? How do I behave when they come to Jesus while still splattered with pig muck, wearing shabby clothes, stinking of pig filth? Do I bring them in and help dress them in fine clothes? Or do I stand outside and rebuke the Father for accepting them in? Worse yet, do I grab the nearest stick and start beating Jesus with it? That’s what the Pharisees and scribes did.

Their story didn’t end so well. How will mine end?

Keep the faith and keep reading,

ELC

P.S. What did you get out of today’s reading?