He was
a jerk. He didn’t want to wait until his
father died to receive his inheritance.
He squandered everything he was given.
He was hungry and tired and lonely, so he thought about going home under
the ruse that he would become a servant in his father’s house.
He was a jerk. He
rehearsed a speech to convince his father that he had changed, that he had
turned his life around and that he had seen the light. He listened to the voices in his head that
told him he deserved to go home, even though he had taken from it all that he
deserved.
He was a jerk. He
returned home, secretly knowing that his father would celebrate his return
instead of putting him into the fields with the servants, slaves and other
workers on the property. He knew he
didn’t have to ask for forgiveness, or even if he did, he could do it while
crossing his fingers.
He was a jerk. The
last thing he wanted was to see his brother return home. His brother who had taken his inheritance in
advance, leaving him with all the responsibilities of caring for their father
and their estate, now with half of its holdings. He assumed his brother had squandered all
that he had been given. Why else would
he return home, but to take more.
He was a jerk. He
had done everything he could to support his father, working hard, long
hours. He gave up his desire to
wander. He wanted to be the “good
son.” So, he grumbled about his lot in
life—the choice he had made—all that he was missing in the big world.
He was a jerk. He
didn’t want to be reminded of all that he had given up when he looked into the
smug face of his unrepentant, selfish brother.
What did he have to celebrate?
It was better for him to cross his arms, pout, and stew over it all—just
one more thing to add to the list of grievances he harbored for years about his
brother.
They were jerks. No
question about it. Both had their
faults.
But you know what?
Their dad loved them anyway.
None of us is perfect.
We all are capable of causing someone we love pain, frustration, anger. We make all kinds of mistakes throughout our
lives. And sometimes we say we will
change, that we want to change, that we won’t do it again, but… we cross our
fingers behind our backs, or we find some kind of excuse to fall back into old
habits or we just might not be willing to work so hard to change.
We can be jerks, too.
The thing is, God loves us anyway.
Yep. God loves
us. God desires to be in relationship
with us so very much that God might run—gleefully, joyfully run toward us when
he sees us returning home. God might not
like everything we’ve done, how we’ve acted or the choices we have made, but if
we return to God, repentant or not, God will always embrace us.
What’s interesting about this story is that both brothers
have turned their backs on their father.
The behavior of the younger is the most obvious because it is the most
physical response. He took his share and
he left. No one knew if he would return,
or if he did, what that return would look like.
The older son, even though he remained in his father’s
household, also turned his back. It
might be harder to see, but it’s there.
He held grudges. He didn’t
happily stay to help. He stayed out of a
sense of duty and responsibility. Maybe
also because there was a sense of security.
But the way this story plays out, it doesn’t seem like he stayed out of
love. I get the sense that his
relationship with his father was strained.
That maybe, they didn’t communicate well or tell one another of their
needs.
It’s hard to have a relationship with someone when you
don’t really want to be there. When
being present is an obligation or a duty.
Both brothers turned their backs on their father.
All their father wanted when he saw his younger son return,
was to celebrate, as a family, with both of his sons, the love and thanksgiving
he was feeling to have them all together again.
Nothing else mattered in those first hours after the
younger son returned. Details,
discussion, stories, true expressions of emotions, repentance and
forgiveness—all these could wait. This
was not a time for judgement, it was a time to celebrate.
This is God’s story of holy reunion. It is our invitation to come back to God at
any time, to re-enter the flock, to be embraced by God, no matter our circumstances.
It doesn’t matter if any of us ran away or will run
away. It doesn’t matter if we stayed or
will stay out of a sense of obligation or duty, resenting the unencumbered life
or lives others live. We are always
invited to be reunited with God. And
when any one of us returns to God, there will be celebrating!
This story of the two sons and their father reminds me of
my maternal grandparents. They had three
children-boom-boom-boom, when they were very young, and another when they were
in their 40’s. My uncle, the oldest
child, moved from Minnesota to California shortly after getting married.
That left my mom and their younger brother to help my
grandparents with their motel. At a time
when each of them was beginning their family, they devoted time to their
parents and the family business.
My memories of growing up are filled with weekends spent
there. As a matter of fact, I have
always felt that their town was more my “childhood home” than the community
where I was raised.
When I
was old enough, I helped clean the motel, too.
But what I most remember was the way everyone would gather when my uncle
and his family would come from California.
It was a raucous celebration where all of us cousins and my young aunt
would frolic in the woods, swim in the pool and create variety shows for our
parents and grandparents.
It wasn’t that all of us who lived in Minnesota didn’t get
together, but when the Californians came home, hoo whee! It was a big deal.
I know that my mom and her younger brother would be
frustrated when their older brother would come home. Or when their parents gushed about him. They would jostle, not necessarily for
attention, but for recognition. They
were the ones who regularly showed up and helped. Sometimes it didn’t feel like anyone noticed
or appreciated their efforts.
The reality was, my grandparents didn’t love any of their
kids more than the other. They missed
their oldest son and his family. And
they wanted to celebrate when they came home.
My mom and her younger brother were geographically closer, and while
there was some expectation that they would help out, I wonder if what really
mattered was their regular presence.
Relationships take effort.
Our relationship with God is no exception. Our faith journeys travel interesting roads,
sometimes taking us some distance from God; sometimes keeping us close, but
with a sense of obligation instead of a sense of wonder. And then there are the times when we meet God
along the way and are surprised when God comes running toward us, arms wide,
ready to embrace us and never let us go.
Let us pray. Loving God, thank you for always watching and
waiting for us when we stray or when we wander.
Help us to run into your open arms and rest in your embrace. Keep us mindful of the distractions that take
us away from you and help us to know how to turn to you, to pray to you, to
live in you all the days of our lives.
We pray this with thanksgiving.
Amen.