Our Sermons

Bible Passage: Luke 15:11-32
Pastor: Pastor Berg
Sermon Date:  March 27, 2022

It’s been called many things. “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” The Parable of the Lost Son.” The Parable of the Two Lost Sons.” I understand why. The first son of the story seems to be the main character. Much of the parable follows his path. Prodigal refers to his wasteful use of his inheritance. The father calls him formerly, “lost.” And in that vein, both sons are truly lost at different points in the story. I’ve preached on this lesson multiple times in my 18 years of being a pastor. And every other time I’ve mainly focused on the sons. But as I was studying and preparing this time around, it occurred to me that maybe I’ve been missing the main character of the story all along. Perhaps the focus of the story shouldn’t be on the sons, but rather on the Father. 

The word Father is repeated 12 times throughout this story. And when you think about it, it’s really the Father who connects the whole story. And it’s in the actions of the father that we see Grace Personified. Grace, God’s undeserved love, is never defined in the story. It’s simply displayed. Let’s take a few moments to immerse ourselves in this story and see grace on display in this story and how we see it on display in our lives as well. 

So what prompted the telling of this story? Luke tells us at the beginning of chapter 15: “All the tax collectors and sinners were coming to Jesus to hear him. But the Pharisees and the experts in the law were complaining, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” The Pharisees were disgusted that Jesus is so willing to associate with sinners. They were quick to condemn the tax collectors and other sinners. In their own self-righteous view, they were far superior. They couldn’t see that they were actually lost. So Jesus tells three parables about lost things and this is the third and perhaps most famous of all of Jesus’ parables. “Jesus said, “A certain man had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered together all that he had and traveled to a distant country. There he wasted his wealth with reckless living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that country, and he began to be in need. He went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. He would have liked to fill his stomach with the carob pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.” 

What does grace look like? We see it in the actions of the Father who even when his children separate God’s good gifts from the one who gives them, doesn’t withhold blessings. He gives his younger son his share of the inheritance. His son didn’t want a relationship with him. He just wanted his stuff. He would just have assumed his father would be dead so the stuff would be his. That’s essentially his demand. And his father graciously gives him what he wants. And how does this son respond to this extravagant love, this extraordinary grace? He abuses it. He goes to where know one knows him and lives like no one is watching. Until the money runs out. And then he starts to be in need. He tries to find work, but all he can find is feeding pigs. This was about as low as you could sink for a young Jewish man. It’s so bad that he wishes he could eat the slop, but he didn’t even get that. Just think of how far he’s fallen! Before he was whining to his father, “Treat me like a man! Give me what’s mine! And now…on-going helplessness. No one was ever around to help. 

We’ve been there, haven’t we? We’ve taken God’s grace for granted. We’ve demanded blessings and then abused that grace by the way we’ve lived. It doesn’t just happen in Vegas and stay in Vegas, it happens right here. And perhaps it’s not as bold-faced as the “wild living” that Jesus describes, but we’ve all abused God’s grace more subtly. We ignore his will. We avoid his house. We despise the means of grace. And eventually, we find ourselves in the pig muck. There’s something about pig muck. I’ve had quite a bit of experience around manure in my past, but there’s nothing quite as foul smelling as pig muck. Picture it, smell it, this young man in the slop, covered in pig muck. We’ve been there, wallowing in our sins. 

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, and I am dying from hunger! I will get up, go to my father, and tell him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” ’ “He got up and went to his father.” Can you see him, smell him in the slop, in the muck. Shoeless, covered in manure; this is when he finally comes to himself. Isn’t it ironic that the world tells us that if we really want to know ourselves and come to ourselves that we need to be free of all restrictions, let it all hang out. And what does this youngest son realize? That when he’s actually the most lost is when he’s away from his father. And so he comes to himself. He comes to his senses. But only in part. You see, he underestimates the grace of his father. He thinks that the best he can do is be a servant. He knows he’s done wrong. He knows he deserves to be condemned. 

We’ve been there too, haven’t we? We’ve royally messed up. Sins with big consequences. Sins we’re embarrassed to be associated with. Sins we wish no one would ever find out about. And we long to be back with our Father, but it can’t be like it was before, can it? There can’t be full forgiveness for that sin, it’s just too big, right? But what we don’t understand, at least not yet, is that God never turns off his grace. It’s like gravity, it’s a constant force. And that goes so contrary to the way that we are quick to condemn and slow to forgive that we doubt it could be true. We even resist this grace because we just can’t believe it to be true. 

“He got up and went to his father. While he was still far away, his father saw him and was filled with compassion. He ran, hugged his son, and kissed him. The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick, bring out the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let us eat and celebrate, because this son of mine was dead and is alive again. He was lost and is found.’ Then they began to celebrate.”  Can you picture the scene? The son is walking down the road, shoeless, covered in muck, smelling as bad as you can possibly imagine. And the father sees him coming. Even after all this time, he’s never stopped looking for his son to return. And when he finally sees him, Jesus says the father was filled with compassion. This is a special word in the Greek. It talks about the stomach being moved. It’s a deep emotional reaction. It’s the same word used to describe Jesus before he raised the widow’s son at Nain, the same word describing the Good Samaritan when he saw the man on the road, the same word used for Jesus when he looked at the helpless crowds before he fed the 5000 and the 4000, the same word before Jesus healed two blind men and a leper. So he sees his filthy, smelly, good-for-nothing son coming down the road and he runs, and he hugs him, and he kisses him–filthy and smelly. He gives up his right to be angry. He doesn’t let the son finish his apology. The gifts come pouring out, gifts only sons wear. And he makes plans to celebrate.

This is the same reception we receive each and every time we confess our sins. We come, nothing to offer God, covered in the muck and mire of our sins. And God’s arms are wide open, ready to embrace us with his love, kissing us with his grace. And he doesn’t let us take the status of a servant, but gives us gifts that only sons wear, the robe of Jesus’ righteousness. God’s grace is like a Father who embraces his foolish and rebellious children when they come to their senses and return. Physically, publicly, openly God communicates that we are his children. He welcomes us home, he feeds us with his Word and Sacrament. Each day is a celebration of God’s grace!

“His older son was in the field. As he approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant told him, ‘Your brother is here! Your father killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ The older brother was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. “He answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I’ve been serving you, and I never disobeyed your command, but you never gave me even a young goat so that I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours arrived after wasting your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ “The father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. But it was fitting to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again. He was lost and is found.’ ”” 

So far we’ve seen God’s grace personified as it was abused and as it was underestimated. Now we see God’s grace personified as it is resented. The older brother was seemingly the faithful one, the good one. We can understand his resentment because it’s not fair. But that’s the thing about grace. It isn’t fair. It’s undeserved. And truth be told, the older son didn’t deserve it either. Did he really have any right to be angry? He also had already received his share of the estate. He also really didn’t desire a relationship with the father, again just his stuff.  ‘Look, these many years I’ve been serving you, and I never disobeyed your command, but you never gave me even a young goat so that I could celebrate with my friends.” No, even though he had his share, even more, the father said all he had was the older son’s, he resented the fact that his brother received grace. Yet, again, what do we see?  His father came out and began to plead with him. The father went out to him, continuously pleading, continuously holding out his grace, urging him to join the celebration. We see the father reaching out to a son who was angered by his grace to others. And we can see ourselves here too, can’t we? Haven’t we resented those who seemingly make all the wrong choices but receive the same grace, the same forgiveness. Haven’t we refused to rejoice with the angels when those same sinners repent? Truth be told, we can see ourselves with either son. We can see ourselves abusing grace, underestimating grace, and resenting grace. But there’s one other Son in this story. The one telling it. Jesus is truly where grace is personified. It’s in the person of Jesus that we truly see God’s grace as he came to take our place under the law, as he kept the law perfectly, as he suffered and died to pay for all of our sins, and as he rose to assure us that we are God’s children, we are God’s sons, wearing the clothes reserved for sons. 

Paul wrote to the Romans in our second reading, “So then, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Jesus is Grace Personified. He has crushed the condemnation that we deserved for our sins. He has crushed the condemnation that we often put on others. His underserved love crushes condemnation and it’s this Grace that we are privileged to share. He wants all in his house: those who have wasted life and abused his grace, those who self-righteously have been offended by his grace. How can we make this a safe place where sinners will see God’s grace personified in Jesus? How can we make this a place where our lost brothers and sisters know they can come home to when they hit rock bottom, we will welcome them back and embrace them and celebrate? I think you know. We keep focusing on Jesus. We keep sharing the good news of what he’s done. God’s grace is never turned off. May we continue to hold it forth for all! Amen