The Day Jesus Told a Story

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During this season of Lent, as we prepare our hearts and minds for the remembrance of Good Friday and the celebration of Easter, we will explore a day in the life of Jesus. We'll focus on brief but powerful vignettes in the Gospels in order to seek a realistic, behind-the-scenes take on what a typical day for Jesus looked like. Today, on Ash Wednesday, as we begin this season of Lent, I'd like to begin this series with the day that Jesus told a story. But it wasn’t just any story; this may be one of the world's best known and most loved stories

Though this story is very familiar, I would suggest that it may not always be properly understood. In fact, one of the signs that you may not yet grasp the radical nature of the gospel is that you're certain that you already do. Jesus did not tell stories simply to warm people's hearts, but rather to challenge their preexisting ideas and to rouse them from their spiritual slumber and awaken them to the full reality of who God is. It is particularly appropriate on this first day of Lent that we focus on a story that shows us, perhaps better than any other story that Jesus told, how we should live our lives in response to his grace. Here we will see that Jesus tells a story in order to illustrate that: 1) there are two different kinds of people, and 2) there are two different ways of getting lost, but 3) there is only one way home.

¹Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. ²The Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”

¹¹He said, “There was a man who had two sons. ¹²The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. ¹³Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. ¹⁴When he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. ¹⁵He went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. ¹⁶He was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

¹⁷“When he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! ¹⁸I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ ²⁰He arose and came to his father. While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. ²¹The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ ²²The father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. ²³Bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. ²⁴My son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ They began to celebrate.

²⁵His older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. ²⁶He called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. ²⁷He said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ ²⁸He was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, ²⁹He answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. ³⁰When this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ ³¹He said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. ³²It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive, he was lost, and is found.’”

Luke 15:1-2, 11-32

Two Different Kinds of People

This story is often referred to as the Parable of the Prodigal Son. That's how it's titled in our ESV pew Bibles. But Jesus tips us off from the very beginning that this parable is not about one son, but about two. Context is everything. The historical setting of this story is crucial to understanding it. At the beginning of the chapter, Luke tells us that tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to hear Jesus, while the religious leaders, the Pharisees and the scribes, began grumbling about him, saying that he receives sinners and eats with them. The tax collectors, of course, were universally despised because they were essentially the corrupt government agents of their day who abused their power and their position in order to take advantage of their own people. And the sinners were so publicly notorious for their moral failures that they were simply and permanently labeled “sinners.”

The Pharisees and the scribes, by contrast, were considered the good guys. They were moral, they were devout, they were upright. They took the Bible seriously, and they tried to do what it said, which is why they were agitated with Jesus for eating with all the wrong kinds of people. This wasn't a merely neutral activity. It wasn't like simply grabbing something to eat with someone today. Rather, sharing a meal in this first century context was a sign of acceptance. So if Jesus is eating with people who are notorious for being shady, then it suggests that God is lowering his standards, that Jesus is compromising God's standards. In response to this, Jesus proceeds to tell not one, not two, but three parables: the lost sheep, the lost coin, and what should be better known as the parable of the two lost sons.

In verse 11, Jesus begins the parable by saying, "A man who had two sons…." These two sons represent two different kinds of people: The younger son represents the tax collectors and the sinners — the irreligious types, the people who outwardly reject God — whereas the older son represents the Pharisees and the scribes — the religious types, the people who at least outwardly obey God. Both sets of people represent two different approaches to try to find meaning and happiness in life.

The one way is the way of moral autonomy, or the way of moral independence — flaunting traditional expectations. This type of person sets out to march to the beat of his own drum. They write their own rules. They transgress moral boundaries. This person might say, “Well, no one can tell you what to do. In order to be my authentic self, I've got to be free to live my life the way that I see fit. I have to decide what is right and wrong for myself. I have to pursue a path of self-discovery.” I would suggest that's why some of you have made it here to New York City. You could describe yourself as the younger brother–type.

The other is the way of moral conformity, or the way of obedience — following rather than flaunting traditional expectations. This type of person wants to do the right thing. They want to be careful to make sure that they're coloring in between the lines. You might say, "If you believe the right things and if you do the right things, then God is obligated to bless you and to make your life go well." The best way to ensure that your life goes well is by following all the rules and doing everything that is expected of you. I would suggest as well that many of you are here in New York City for that very reason. Some of you have made it to New York because you have transgressed the moral boundaries; some of you have made it here to New York because you followed all the moral boundaries.

Here Jesus demonstrates that he was a master storyteller. This parable is timeless, and Jesus reveals here the depths to which he understands the human heart, in all of its complexity, like no one else. Jesus sketches out these two extreme portraits of two different kinds of people. And while it’s true that we might fall into one category or the other, it is also possible that we see a little bit of both in ourselves. We may not have totally rejected God, but we haven't totally followed him either. We're not all that bad, but perhaps we don't think we're all that great either.

Two Different Ways of Getting Lost

But the reason why Jesus tells this story is to show that while there may be two different kinds of people, and there are two approaches to life, they're both wrong, because both of these ways can get you lost. One son gets lost by leaving his father's home; the other one gets lost by staying. One gets lost by breaking all the rules; the other gets lost by keeping all the rules. The younger brother is alienated from his father because of the bad things that he's done; the older brother is alienated from his father because of the good things that he's done.

Let's take a closer look at both the younger and the older brother, with the younger brother first. The younger son gets lost because, like many irreligious people, he just wants to be free. The parable here doesn't really surprise us, because Jesus tells a story that we see played out in real life over and over again. A young man grows dissatisfied with his life for one reason or another, and he breaks family ties and sets out on his own. In verse 12, we read that the younger son says to his father, "Give me my share of the property that is coming to me."

Now what you need to realize is that this is not the kind of thing that you say to your parents. As a son, he would have inherited a portion of his father's estate, but not until his father was dead, not while his father was still alive. And so when he says, "Give me my inheritance now," give me what's coming to me now while you're still alive, he's effectively saying to his dad, "I wish you were dead. I don't want you; I just want your stuff."

Now, in an ancient patriarchal culture, it's hard to imagine how disrespectful this would have come across, but that is precisely how it would have come across to this father, and everyone in the crowd listening to Jesus would have known that. Amazingly, the father doesn't respond by immediately boxing his son's ears. He doesn't disown him or disinherit him, but rather he gives him what he wants. He grants this awful request.

In verse 12, “He divided his property between them.” Now the culture of Jesus' day was based on the principle of primogeniture, which meant that the eldest child received twice as much of an inheritance as every other child. If there are only two sons in the family, then we can assume that the elder son received two-thirds of the estate and the younger son received one-third of the estate. But the word for property here, the word bios, means “life.” When the father divides his property between them, he's dividing his very life between them.

He couldn't just go to the bank and make a withdrawal. He couldn't just write a check to his youngest son. In order to give him a third of the estate, he had to sell land and livestock, which means that he's sacrificing his own means of making a living. He liquidates part of his estate, absorbs the shame and the sting of the younger son's rejection, and gives him his share of the inheritance. The younger son therefore decides to go his own way, to find happiness on his own terms — and it makes him miserable.

In verse 13, the son leaves for a far country where he lives it up and eventually loses it all. Famine strikes, and he finds himself in need. The only thing he can do is hire himself out to a farmer who's raising pigs. But you see, in a Jewish context, pigs were considered unclean and unfit to eat, so there could be no greater humiliation for a good Jewish boy in the first century than to be feeding pigs. Worse than that, he finds himself so destitute, living in a pig pen, that he longs to eat the pods that the pigs ate. He's not just feeding pigs; he envies the pigs. He envies their food. He couldn't possibly sink any lower. He gradually descends into a hell of his own making. Jesus wants to make it abundantly clear that this boy could not possibly be farther away from home.

The younger son represents the irreligious types who reject God — perhaps those folks today (you might include yourself among them) who have deconstructed their faith or perhaps de-churched. People who have grown jaded or cynical or just disinterested and no longer want to have anything to do with God. They either actively rebel against God or perhaps respond with apathy. They just don't care.

But the older son gets just as lost, because like many religious people, he tries to play by the rules. He tries to do the right thing, but there's no love, no joy, no delight, no intimacy in his relationship with the father. It's drudgery all the way down. These types of people tend to develop a critical spirit. They can be harsh and judgmental. They view others with disdain who don't live up to the same standards as they do. They look down their noses at everyone else.

The younger-brother lostness is easy to detect; it's blatant. The elder brother's lostness is more elusive; therefore, it's more dangerous. It's a more dangerous form of lostness because it's so subtle. It's harder to detect because the older brother has never left home, and therefore everything on the surface looks just fine. But the older brothers are just as lost. The only difference with the older-brother types is that their struggle is less obvious.

So how do you know if you might be an older-brother type, or if you might have elder-brother tendencies? The first sign is indifference. Notice that the older brother doesn't say a word when his younger brother leaves. He doesn't seem to know or care. Does he try to stop his brother? Does he convince him to stay? The second sign is anger. At the end of the story, when the older brother comes in from the field tired, rather than brightening at the sound of music and dancing and rushing in to join the celebration, he suspiciously asks a servant, "Well, what is this fuss all about?" And in verse 28, he gets angry. He refuses to join the party.

But he’s not just angry. The third sign is that he's bitter and resentful. Beginning in verse 29, he says to his father, "Look, these many years..." Notice he doesn't call his father “dad.” He says, “Look.” In the Greek, it's even more emphatic. He basically says to his dad, "Look, you. These many years I have served you." Literally, that word in Greek is the word "slaved." "I've slaved away for you." He doesn't love his dad; it's just joyless service. He says, "You never even gave me a goat to celebrate with my friends." A goat would be worth far less than a calf, but he kills this fattened calf for his younger brother, and so he feels like his father has been neglecting him and rewarding his brother for bad behavior.

Notice that he doesn't even refer to him as his brother. He uses this hateful phrase: "this son of yours." "This son of yours," he means nothing to me. "I've always done what you wanted," but in effect what he's saying is, "What I want to know now is what's in it for me?" There's no intimacy in the relationship; it's completely transactional.

The older son is a good kid. You never would have met a more obedient boy. It’s true that he never disobeyed his father's commands, but he doesn't see himself as a beloved child of the father whom he loves and enjoys. Rather he thinks of himself as nothing more than a slave serving a hard master. The older son is not missing the father's love in spite of his goodness; he's missing the father's love because of his goodness. It's not his vices but his virtues that are keeping him on the outside looking in. When life doesn't go the way that he wants or expects, he doesn't get sorrowful, which would be a healthy response; no, he gets angry.

Only One Way Home

So there are two different kinds of people, and two different ways to get lost. The lostness of the younger brother is obvious. The lostness of the older brother is more elusive, but therefore perhaps more dangerous. Two different kinds of people, two ways to get lost, but there’s only one way home: You have to be found. God, in his loving grace, goes out to find both, because God is committed to seek and to save the lost no matter how they found themselves lost.

The younger brother finally hits rock bottom, and he “comes to himself.” That’s an evocative expression. Some people think that perhaps this is the turning point in this young man's life, but I’m not so sure. In this moment, it's not altogether clear whether he's really sorry or just really hungry. What we do know is that he's desperate. So he hatches this plan to go home with no expectation of being received back as a son. He knows that he's not worthy to be called a son because of his disgusting behavior toward his father. The best he can hope for is that his father will take him back as a hired servant. The best he can hope for is that his dad will give him a job.

So he practices his apology. And he's going to need one, because he didn't just run away; he publicly shamed his father. But nothing could have prepared him for the father's response, because all this time his father has just been scanning the horizon, waiting for him to return. When he spots him, he's filled with compassion, and he runs — he runs to him.

In the Ancient Near East, a man would never run, because to do so would be considered humiliating. In that period of history, to run, he would have to hike up his cloak or robe and tuck it into his belt, exposing his legs, which would be publicly humiliating. But this dad doesn't care. He hikes up his robe, and he runs. He makes a spectacle of himself for all the eyes in the village to see, because he just doesn't care what they think. So the younger son's walk of shame is overshadowed by his father's public embarrassment.

When the father reaches his son, he embraces him. It literally says that he falls on his neck and kisses him before, not after, his son even has a chance to say, "I'm sorry." This is the moment that truly changes this young man's life forever, because up to this point the father hasn't spoken, not a single word. But when he does, he cuts off immediately all this talk about coming back as a servant or a hired hand. He says, "Bring the best robe and put it on him." The best robe would have been his robe. "Put a ring on his finger." This would have been the family signet ring that bears the family seal; he's restoring him to the position of son, authorizing him to act as a son. "Put shoes on his feet." He's not going to walk around like a common servant on the estate; he's going to walk around as a son. He's going to be welcomed back into the family.

As if that’s not enough, Jesus continues by saying that the father calls for the fattened calf to be killed so that they can celebrate, because his son, who was dead, is now alive, and who was lost, has now been found. The fattened calf was the rarest of delicacies. You would only eat this on the most special of occasions, and it would be such a huge feast that you would have to invite the whole village to participate in it.

But you see, the father doesn't just go after the younger son; he also goes after the older son, who's just as lost, even though he’s never left home. He searches for the older son, because the older son refused to go into the party. So now it's the elder son's turn to bring public shame to his dad by remaining on the outside of the feast. He's sulking at the injustice and the inappropriateness of it all, and his father has to leave the guests to go out and find his older son and to entreat him to change his heart, to change his mind, and to join in the party. The older brother never disobeyed his father's command, but the point is that he missed it all.

But notice how tender the father is: "Son, you are always with me, and everything that is mine is yours." At this point, that is literally true, because when the father divided his property between his two sons, he gave to the younger son everything that was supposed to go to him. All that the father has left literally belongs to his older son. "All that is mine is yours." And so he says, rather than being bitter or jealous or resentful, it would be fitting for you to celebrate and be glad, because this your brother was dead, but is alive again. He was lost, but now is found.

When Jesus finishes this story, I suggest that there were probably some in the crowd who were weeping because they understood the power of his words, but there may have been others who were fuming, because this is exactly what they were complaining about. Jesus is welcoming all the wrong kinds of people. How can Jesus tell people that God is just waiting to shower his love upon them before they’ve ever said they’re sorry? Before they’ve ever done anything to make amends? Before they’ve done anything to pay for their past?

Today I’d like you to consider which son you're most like. Or perhaps you might see a little bit of both in you. It’s possible you might have begun looking a little bit like a younger son but then developed elder brother tendencies. Or perhaps it was the opposite: You began the Christian life coming out of an older-brother past, but now you’ve developed some younger brother sensibilities. What’s interesting is that both of these sons basically treat their father the same way. Both of them say, "I don't really care about you; I just want your stuff. I just want what's coming to me." Sin is simply running away from God in order to try to gain control over our lives. You can run away from God by breaking all the rules, or you can run away from God by keeping all the rules.

The novelist Flannery O'Connor once put it like this in one of her stories: The best way to avoid Jesus is to avoid sin. If you're resistant to the idea that you need Jesus to save you, one thing you can do is try to run away from God, but the other is to try to run away from sin, because if you don't do anything wrong, then you can fool yourself into thinking that you don't need to be saved. But it's just another form of pride — you're trying to save yourself — and that approach only works when it comes to outward sins that are blatant and obvious. It doesn't work when you try to address inner sins like anger or bitterness or pride.

The real test about which kind of brother you are is how you respond to the younger-brother types. Are you thrilled by the love that God lavishes upon them, or are you resentful toward it? These two sons represent two different kinds of people who get lost in two different ways, but there's only one way home, and that is the way of grace. You have to allow God to embrace you. You don't get what you deserve; in both cases, you get the opposite of what you deserve.

So some of you may feel that you're far from home. You may feel unworthy, that you have disappointed God in some way, that you have disqualified yourself from a place in his family. You need to hear that God is scanning the horizon, looking for you, and when he sees you, when he spots you, his heart is not filled with disappointment or disapproval. No, his heart is filled with compassion, and he's running toward you. He embraces you, he falls on your neck and kisses you before, not after, you even have a chance to say, "I'm sorry."

Because that's how grace works. God's love not only precedes but enables our repentance. Love comes first. It's not that repentance makes love possible, but rather it's God's love that makes repentance possible. If you know that God, right now, stands ready to shower his love upon you and receive you back, it makes it easier for you to swallow your pride, put down your defenses, and lower your resistance so that you might receive his love for yourself. And once you taste that love for yourself, you'll be willing to do anything for him in return. God doesn't have to love you because it's his job; God wants to love you because that is his heart.

This is what makes the older-brother types so angry. If God accepts people despite the wrongs that they've done, does that suggest that people will get the wrong idea and use it as license to live their life any way they want? But you see, if you think that God's grace gives you permission to live your life however you want, then you really don't understand it. You haven't really experienced it. Because God's grace always leads to a changed life.

So if this story makes you fume rather than weep, you have to search your heart, because this story ends with a cliffhanger. We don't know if the older brother will actually ever come to his senses and join the party. And that's the point. The question is left out there: What will you do? How will you respond?

Part of the reason why the older brother is so angry is because the younger brother has already received his share of the inheritance and wasted it. And so when the father gives the younger son a robe to wear and a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet and a calf to celebrate, the father is literally giving away what properly belonged to the older brother. He reinstates his younger brother at the expense of the older brother. It's his robe, it's his ring, it's his shoes, it's his calf, and he doesn't like it. It violates his sense of justice. He hates it. He resents it. Why should “this son of yours” be reinstated at my expense?

What we need, therefore, is an older brother who does not resent paying the cost for our return home. We need an older brother who is not ashamed to welcome us at his own expense, no matter who we are or what we've done. That is who we have in Jesus. Jesus is not self-righteous toward the self-righteous. He's not a Pharisee toward the Pharisees. He doesn't judge the judgmental. He seeks to save the lost, no matter how they found themselves that way. He extends his grace to all of us, no matter which type of person we might be. Because Jesus is the one who left his Father's house for a far country — not in order to waste his life in reckless living, but rather to sacrifice his life for those who would.

Jesus also walked a shameful road, the way of the cross, because he was filled with compassion for you and me. It wasn't just his legs that were exposed; it was his whole body. He was publicly shamed so that you and I might be publicly honored. Jesus was stripped of his robe and hung on his cross so that we might be clothed and welcomed back into the Father's house. And the best part is, Jesus did not resent it. He did not resent paying the price to bring us home. He's the one who's hosting the party. The only question that remains is whether or not we will choose to join in.

There are two different kinds of people, and two different ways of getting lost, but only one way home. It is the way of grace. The question is, no matter who you consider yourself to be, will you receive it and join in the celebration this Lent?

Let me pray for us.

Father God, as we come to this table tonight, on this first day of Lent, we pray that you would help us to consider our own hearts. Help us to consider where we are in relationship to you. What kind of a son are we? Help us to identify our own forms of lostness, and help us to receive the only way home that you have provided at your own expense. You didn't resent it; you did it joyfully, because your heart is filled with compassion for us. We thank you in Jesus' name. Amen.

Come worship with us on Easter Sunday! Our service times will be 8:30, 10, and 11:30 a.m. (no 5 p.m. service). We look forward to celebrating the resurrection with you!

Sermons

A Day in the Life of Jesus: The Day Jesus Told a Story

Two Different Kinds of People

Two Different Ways of Getting Lost

Only One Way Home