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Printer Friendly VersionIn preaching a familiar story like this one, I’m reminded
of how easy it is to breeze past the key points of this story in fast forward.
So, my hope is that we can instead hit the pause button and even zoom in a
bit more than we normally would. To do this, I want to break this story up
into scenes, as if they were episodes of your favorite drama (although these
episodes will not, thankfully, be an hour each).
The title of this scene is from a song by a Texas songwriter
named Jon Randall. His song, Long Way Down, tells of a man who is learning
that it is better to stay on the straight and narrow and appreciate what we
have been given. “It’s a long way down” when we make the
kind of decisions that lead us away from what is right. Very few people in
all of Scripture illustrate just what a long way down it is like the young
man in this story.
What the young man sees at first as a wild Star Trek-like journey
into the “unknown” becomes a Hanzel and Gretel story of falling
into the trap of something evil that looks good on the surface!His adventure
gets him lost. It is not like getting lost in the Hundred Acre Wood, where
Winnie the Pooh and his friends seek an “expotition” (expedition)
that often involves getting lost in the wonders of childhood: “We’re
not lost, we are here. We just don’t know where here is,” Pooh
quips joyously. But that kind of joyous lostness is not to be found here.
The kind of lostness this young man experiences is the kind
found in the stereotypical horror film, where the quaint little abandoned
country house off the beaten past becomes the evil haunted mansion The so-called
good that the young man originally experiences turns out to be a facade built
upon lies and false motives that in the end – after his money has all
been spent – is the bottom of a very deep pit of despair. A long way
to fall for one who once enjoyed such a high place of honor in his father’s
household. We can all relate . . . .
One of the New Testament’s most direct common sense observations comes in this section of the story and is found in verse 17, “When he came to his senses. . .” . The young man in the story wakes us gets his head on straight and is able to sense that his life was meant for something greater than his plans could enfold. John Wesley would have referred to this moment as the only proper response to God’s prevenient grace: we come to our senses and begin stumbling toward the loving Father. Prevenient grace, the grace that God gives so that all people may have the opportunity to know His love, is not just about God doing nice things to draw us to Himself--although we are thankful that is part of it. Prevenient grace is also about God’s ability to make use of various means--good and bad--to draw us to himself. There’s nothing like working in a pig pen to get our attention. This is especially true (as it would be assumed by the hearers of this story) given that this is likely a young Jewish man, who would consider working with pigs the ultimate unclean job. He not only has to work with them, but he also has to share food with them. At this stage, the young man would not even need one of those late night commercials from some technical or business college asking, “Are you stuck in a dead end job? Do you feel that you could be doing more with your life and career?” He is at the end of his road, and now the longings he tried to fill with quick cash and fast friends is calling him to a higher love. Now what?
Much attention is given to this story as the prodigal son.
However, given the overwhelming grace of the dad who not only offers his son
a place, but runs out to meet this disobedient child with an embrace instead
of a scolding, it is rightly called the story of the forgiving father. This
father shows himself not only long-suffering but also compassionate. He is
filled with genuine redemptive love for his undeserving son, whom most fathers
would have been well-justified in disowning for his impetuousness and worldly
living. Instead, the young man is embraced “while he was a long way
off” the text tells us. Like all sons (and daughters) who get in trouble,
this young man has rehearsed his lines, gotten his excuses down pat and is
ready to present the most needy face and most reasonable arguments for some
sort of bare minimum mercy. However, the father is the type who does not do
anything--especially mercy--to the bare minimum. Thanks be to God!
Christian writer Walter Wangerin tells a story about his father
from his childhood. Wangerin’s father was a serious man, a professor
and pastor who was rarely referred to by his first name. He was a man of great
dignity and poise who carried himself in a way that could seem cold at times
but always commanded respect from those around him, especially his children.
One day when Wangerin was ten, he led his three brothers on a fishing expedition
to a dangerous stretch of water that was usually considered off limits without
parental supervision. The three boys got caught in some rough waters and nearly
swept over a waterfall and crashing into rocks below.
However, this dignified father took of his shoes and crawled
his way onto a small ledge, reaching out to this boys who were surrounded
by water one by one, pulling them all to safety. Like the prodigal’s
son, Wangerin relates that “it was foolishness that put us there,”
but it was love that brought our father to us! Even as their father was moving
toward them, feet first so that they may grab his heal, and the waters were
swirling around them, something about his coming to rescue them filled their
hearts with love and his presence calmed their fears. Wangerin concludes by
saying: “So I did not die in the day of my great stupidity. I lived.
Thus, the kingdom of heaven is likened unto a certain man whose eldest son
was a nincompoop!” In Jesus’ parable, it is the younger son. In
both instances, the analogy remains true: this God of nincompoops genuinely
loves his straying troubled children enough to come and rescue them. He is
the hero of our stories!
It seems we have a choice when we read this well known text.
We must figure out which character we are. There are some of you who will
hear these words who know that they are the lost son or daughter. You left
not only the comforts of your family but also of your “spiritual home,”
the home with the God who loves you more than you can ever imagine. You have
drifted and you are lost with the kind of lost-ness that breeds emptiness,
shame and fear. It’s a long way down. This story encapsulates the message
of the whole Gospel--the whole Bible--God is awaiting your return and He will
run out to meet you and restore you into His good graces. Even though our
falling seems a long way down, Jesus has chosen to come even further “down,”
emptying himself of His glory, as Paul reminds us later, in order that Jesus
may come to where we are and lead us to the Father’s love.
We all are called to be like the father in the story (a picture
of our Heavenly Father), although this is tough. Only by knowing Him and trusting
Him can we exhibit His love and compassion and forgiveness. His grace and
love can flow through us as we run out to meet those who “come to their
senses” and recognize that where they are is not where they need to
be.
Sometimes we are the older brother. I am speaking especially
to those who have been around church life for awhile, regardless of your age.
We human beings, even in church, tend to mark our territories, and get very
comfortable with our surroundings as well as with the status quo. We are not
meaning to be bad people, but our comfort level can cause us to forget that
we are living in the Father’s house, not our own. In other words, this
is God’s church, not ours, regardless of our tenure or status.
We get to be the crowd. Which crowd you ask? We get to be the
ones who carry out the instructions of the father: we celebrate, we make preparations,
we “kill the fatted calf” and we welcome the wandering child back
into the family. That is our highest calling as the Church and that is part
of this great adventure called the Christian life.