Putting People in the Their Place

 

Luke 15:11b-32

 

            How do you react when someone acts as stupidly and as irresponsibly as the Prodigal Son of this famous parable? What do you do when it’s your own child who makes one wrong choice after another and ends up basically ruining his life?

 

            Let’s put that question to two parents    and see how they respond.

 

            First, to review the situation as it stands: A man has two sons. The younger one said, “I want my inheritance now.” He gets it and takes off on his own on a wild road trip. He spends so freely on every luxury and comfort and vice and entertainment imaginable without any thought for the future. Until one day it’s all gone. He doesn’t have a penny left to his name. He has no place to stay; no food to eat. In fact, there is a famine and there isn’t much food to be found in the land.

            In desperation, Mr. Party Animal finds a hog farmer who is only too happy to take advantage of him. He will let him stay on the property in exchange for some hard work in the fields, feeding the pigs. Since times are so rough, the farmer can’t really pay him, but as long as he does his job, he won’t report him to the police as a vagrant.

            The son is now starving and desperate. He has no friends, because the “friends” he had are just as self-centered as he is and they’ve got no use for him now that he’s broke. He’s made a complete mess of his life, he’s made a total fool of himself. And he’s afraid to go back to home because of how badly he treated his family. After what he has done, he doesn’t see how he could possibly show his face there ever again. He’s getting sicker and sicker, to the point where he is dying of malnourishment.

            Finally, he sees that he has no choice. His only hope of surviving is to get back home. He has to swallow his pride and come crawling back to the parents.

 

            Word of this situation comes back to the father. He knows exactly what the son has done with his money and what has happened to him. He knows that the kid is a complete and utter failure on his way home to beg for his family to take pity on him. Not to take him back in; he just hopes that, despite all he’s done, family ties will mean enough so that he can get just enough charity to stay alive. While waiting for the son to arrive, he tries to figure out what he’s going to say to this son when he arrives at the gate.

 

            Here is how two different fathers react to their prodigal son. Each sends a letter out to the son as he makes his long journey home.

 

Father #1

 

            Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Shot. You know, son, I hate to say I told you so, but anyone with half a brain could have seen this coming from a mile away. I tried to stop you. I tried to talk some sense into your thick skull. But would you listen? No. You never listen. You always think you know more than anyone else.

            I mean, what were you thinking? You come up to me and ask me to give your entire inheritance. Now.

            That’s how you treat your parents?

            I’m not even close to being dead, but you want it now. After all I’ve done raising you and looking after you and providing for you and teaching you and giving you gifts and spending time with you. None of that means anything to you. All you can think of is how much money you’re going from me.

            Did you ever stop to think of where this money came from? How hard I had to work to earn it? You think this money is your right, that it’s owed to you. You think the world owes you a living?

            Honestly, you act like a two-year old kid. You don’t have a clue how to handle money or responsibility. You don’t even have a plan for what you’re going to do. You never think of anyone but yourself. Whatever you see you gotta have. Now. Cars, sex, booze, drugs. Whatever feels good do it. Life is nothing but a big party in your honor. The point of life is for you to be constantly entertained and amused.

            You thought you were so much smarter than dumb old Dad. Dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about. All those lessons about being responsible, and planning and for the future, and investing your time and energy into education and good, honest work, what, I was just saying all that for my health?

            Well, I guess we know different now, don’t we. You found out that the rules and advice that I gave wasn’t for my benefit. It wasn’t just because I’m just some old has-been geezer who lovse to hear myself talk, that I’m some control freak who wants to run your life. It was all for you. It was all for your own good.

            So here you are now, sadder but wiser. You know, that’s why I agreed to your ridiculous demand for your inheritance. I should have just locked you in your room. But I guess you had to learn a lesson.You found out what this eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die philosophy leads to. It leads to misery, it leads to starvation, depression, it leads to death.

            What am supposed to do with you now? Just take you back? Act like nothing happened? What would you learn from that? If I did that, what kind of parent would I be? I’d just be an enabler, and you’ve got to grow up sometime.

            We’ve got some trust issues, here, buddy. I’d be the biggest sap of all if I just let you waltz in here and said, hey, let’s just forget that whole inheritance incident. Pretend it never happened. You hurt us bad, your mother and I. You treated us like dirt. How can we ever trust you again, knowing the kind of character, or lack of it, that you have?

            And now you want to come back? You want to be part of this family now, when you have never shown one ounce of respect for your family?

            Well here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to have to earn your way back into this family. You’re going to have to earn back every bit of trust.

            First of all, you’re going to write a letter of apology to every person in this family. And they’re going to be good letters, long letters full of contrition.

            Then we’re going to start you on the bottom level, with the lowest servants. The worst jobs, the most mindless drudgery—that’s what’s coming to you. You’re going to be on a short leash, buddy. We’re going to watch every move you make. If you so much as think a single irresponsible thought; you’ll be out of here so fast it’ll make your head spin. No more second chances.

            I’ll give you a very small allowance. I’ll expect you to come to me every week with an accounting of every penny.

            And if, over time, you prove that you can handle the work and the responsibility and the trust, we’ll gradually move you up to positions of greater responsibility. We’re good people, fair people, and we are your parents after all. We’re going to do our best to help you get through this. But we’re not going to be walked all over again. We’ll see if you have the guts and the character to make something of yourself. I wouldn’t bet on it, but maybe some day, with a lot of hard work, you can prove yourself worthy of being treated like family.

 

            But I have to tell you, all actions have consequences. Once a thing is done, there’s no undoing it. There’s nothing you can do that will erase the embarrassment that you caused your mother and I, the shame you brought on this household. That will be there forever. I just hope you think about that next time you think it’s cool to spit on everything your family values.

 

 

Here’s Father #2

 

            I’ve heard the most wonderful news. The first good news is that you are alive. And the second bits of news is heard that you are coming home. I can hardly believe it’s true, and I don’t dare believe until I see it. But I will be out at the top of the hill every morning looking for you, hoping that that it’s real.

 

            I think about you every night, wondering where you are and how you’re doing. I’ve been worried about you, about the choices you’ve made and the people you’ve been running with. I worry because I’ve been around long enough and seen enough of this world to know where that leads. It’s trap, living for the moment without thinking of the big picture. The trap that promises freedom from all those confining rules but ends up making you a slave of desire.

 

            It’s a trap as old as Genesis when Esau decides he is so hungry and Isaac’s soup smells so good that he’s willing to trade his birthright for a bowl of it. It’s a trap as modern as the lure of the quick methampedimine high at the nonnegotiable price of an addiction that will ruin your life.

 

            The shine and glitter of immediate pleasure always makes home look dull and worthless in comparison. It draws people out like hungry fish chasing after a lure. Like that lure, it’s an empty deceitful promise. To be honest, I was deathly afraid it had caught you, and that I would never see you again because of it.

 

            I think about all the years that we have been together, how I’ve watched you grow, how I’ve been there with you at all the important times in your life. It broke my heart that night when you asked for your inheritance. I had a pretty good idea of what you were going to do with it. You weren’t exactly subtle about what you wanted out of life.

 

            But I know why you asked for inheritance. Something in you was restless and searching. Something in you had to test the boundaries of life to see if they were real. Something in you said this is my life and I’m not going to let you live it for me.

 

            And I can understand that.

 

            I can understand it, but I can’t go along with it. You wanted me to change the rules of life for you. You wanted to set your own boundaries and call the shots. And no responsible parent lets a child do that. This is our home and as the person who created this home I have a responsibility to manage it in a way that benefits the entire family, the entire estate, the entire country in which we live.

 

            I have made a promise to do that, and I will not break that promise. I won’t even bend it. And so when you felt you could not live under those rules, I had no choice but to let you leave.

 

            It hurts that you didn’t trust me enough to know that I wasn’t trying to live your life. But I didn’t try to stop you even though I could have done so. Trust in me isn’t something I can demand; you either give it to me freely or you can’t give it at all.

 

            So you went off looking for someone or something else to trust in. You didn’t find it and now you’re coming back. You’re coming back home. You know that the rules haven’t changed at home and that if you come back here, you will have to live under them, and you’re coming back anyway. You are coming back to the place where you belong.

 

            I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to hear that news. I want you to know that when you get here, as far as I am concerned, it will be exactly as if you never left. Your room is just as you left it. There’s a spot at the table, just where it used to be. You will be part of this family just as you were before. You were my child before you left; you are my child now. I loved you the day you left; I love you as much now.

 

            Well, alright, it won’t be exactly as if you never left. We’re going to have a feast and a party in your honor. Yeah, you’re not the only one who can blow money; I can do it to when there’s a reason to celebrate

 

            You see, since the day you left, I have had one vision that keeps coming to mind, day and night. It is the vision of you returning home, to the place where you belong. Although I had my fears, I never gave up hope. I will never give up hope in you.

 

            And so I’m going to be out there on the hilltop tomorrow and the next day and the next day. I will be there every day until that day when I see you in the distance. And if that day never comes when I see you coming up the road, then I will finish my days on this earth sitting on that hilltop, staring into the distance and hoping. That’s how much it means to me to have you back with me, in the place where you belong, in your home.

 

            Hope to see you soon. Can’t wait to see you soon.

 

            With love,

 

            Dad

 

            The first letter is the one that most people throughout history have expected God to write, and still expect God to write. It’s the one most of us probably would write. It’s the one that puts sinful people in their place.

 

            In this parable Jesus makes the startling claim that the letter God writes is the second one. It’s the one that puts sinful people in the place where they belong—at home in the family of God.

 

            When we use the word Father in addressing God, this is the image Jesus wants us to have in mind: the parent who wrote the second letter. The parent who calls us to come home.