The Other Sinner
Why did Jesus have to ruin a good story? Doesn’t he like happy endings?! Just when we were enjoying a good party, the father’s elder son returned from his field work wanting to know why there was music and dancing. When he found out that the party was for his wayward brother, he became angry and refused to go into [the party].
The older brother’s anger is understandable. While his brother was sowing his wild oats, this brother was sowing real oats for his father. He probably thought: “What are you doing, Dad?! Throwing a party for a son who squandered everything and came home because it was his last choice?! He’ll just do it again. Maybe you’re taken in by him but I’m not!” I have a friend whose parents have bailed out his brother again and again and again. The result? He has never become a responsible adult.
But this isn’t a bailout, it is a homecoming. Dad didn’t replenish the Prodigal’s bank account, he simply threw a party for his returned-from-the-dead son. Isn’t that what a dad should do?! Jesus included a second brother in this story to show that there are different types of sinners. The father had two sons who were lost. The first was lost in the far country of debauchery; the second in the far country of pride. Listen to Mr. Responsibility’s claim to his father: All these years I have been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Could any child never disobey?!
The elder brother’s prideful sin led him to reject his brother even before he talked with him. Speaking to his father he called his brother: This son of yours. He could only see what his brother was, not what his brother could become. Arrogant people give no second chances. The person you were as a teen is the same person you are as an adult.
The apostle Paul observed that the sins of some men are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them. (I Tim.5:24) Newspapers are full of Prodigals’ sins. But few divulge the cold, unforgiving hearts of elder brothers. These Elder Brothers often boast of sins they have not committed but are blind to the sins that are destroying them.
Are you having trouble forgiving someone? Are you willing to confess that your unwillingness is also a sin? Repent before your heart becomes a stone.
2011/09/09
2011/07/19
The Prodigal Son: Part 5
The Way Home
When the Prodigal confessed—I have sinned—was he sincere? It appears so. Trudging back home after having made such a fool of himself could not have been easy, but he didn’t dilute his confession with excuses. “I have sinned but ...
• you should not have given me the money.”
• I had to get away from my self-righteous brother.”
• I had temporary insanity.”
• that far country is full of crooks.”
He accepted blame completely, now realizing that “having his own way was the worst thing that could have happened to him.”
The second part of the Prodigal’s homecoming speech also points to his sincerity: I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants. In these words, the Prodigal evidenced a complete surrender, one “without reservation, qualification or equivocation.” He believed he had forfeited the rights of a son and would humbly accept becoming one of his father’s servants. His change of attitude was remarkable. Though he once viewed his home as a prison, he was now willing to imprison himself as a slave in that same household.
Not all prodigals make it home. Some are overwhelmed by their shame: “The pangs which follow a loss of self-respect are tortuous. Not many have sufficient courage to face them. In every possible way they seek to escape. Although God forgives, they cannot forgive themselves. There are thousands of solitary drunkards who drink themselves into oblivion every night in an effort to buy a few hours’ escape from their agonizing loss of self-respect.”
There is only one road home for a prodigal. Returning humbly, brokenly, without excuse to the Father is their “one lone star of hope.”
When the Prodigal confessed—I have sinned—was he sincere? It appears so. Trudging back home after having made such a fool of himself could not have been easy, but he didn’t dilute his confession with excuses. “I have sinned but ...
• you should not have given me the money.”
• I had to get away from my self-righteous brother.”
• I had temporary insanity.”
• that far country is full of crooks.”
He accepted blame completely, now realizing that “having his own way was the worst thing that could have happened to him.”
The second part of the Prodigal’s homecoming speech also points to his sincerity: I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants. In these words, the Prodigal evidenced a complete surrender, one “without reservation, qualification or equivocation.” He believed he had forfeited the rights of a son and would humbly accept becoming one of his father’s servants. His change of attitude was remarkable. Though he once viewed his home as a prison, he was now willing to imprison himself as a slave in that same household.
Not all prodigals make it home. Some are overwhelmed by their shame: “The pangs which follow a loss of self-respect are tortuous. Not many have sufficient courage to face them. In every possible way they seek to escape. Although God forgives, they cannot forgive themselves. There are thousands of solitary drunkards who drink themselves into oblivion every night in an effort to buy a few hours’ escape from their agonizing loss of self-respect.”
There is only one road home for a prodigal. Returning humbly, brokenly, without excuse to the Father is their “one lone star of hope.”
2011/06/23
The Prodigal Son: Part 4
"I Have Sinned"
Many Prodigals want liberation, not transformation; the removal of pain, not the removal of guilt. The prophet Hosea describes them: They do not cry out to [God] from their hearts, but wail upon their beds. (14:7) These rebels would gladly stay in the far country if life still worked.
When Jesus’ Prodigal (Luke 15) ran out of money in the far country, he found a job: So he hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to feed pigs. He longed to feed himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. What an indignity for a conscientious Jew—he was hired to feed pigs! And then his employer added to his shame by not paying him. It was at this low point, hungry and humiliated, that he came to his senses. How many of my father’s hired hands have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! He knew what he had to do to live: I will set out and go back to my father.
So the run-away son limped home—all he had left was a broken heart and a prepared speech: Father, I have sinned.... These are exceptional words—even in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the words “I have sinned” occur only thirteen times. And only twice do they appear to be genuine (David and this Prodigal). Those two are the only confessions which include a declaration of guilt and a plea for pardon.
I must be honest--I don’t find confession easy. When I have flung unkind words at my wife and know that my confession can restore peace, I agonize over whether to admit my sin. Though my sin is obvious to both of us, I can’t voice it. Why is my voice box suddenly frozen? Is this a foreign language I don’t know? Would it help to hire a Professor Higgins (My Fair Lady) to teach me how to speak these words? “Repeat after me: `I have sinned. I have sinned. I have sinned.’”
Cathy and I occasionally do some marriage counseling. The first meeting with a couple is totally predictable--each will spew out a long list of the other's failings. They are simply reflecting fallen human nature--a bent toward magnifying others’ sins and minimizing our own. Are you overwhelmed by your mate’s sins? Would you like to confront your best friend with her flaws? Are you angered by the lack of love from a parent? Step back. Take a minute to raise the mirror in front of your own soul. Ask God to help you see your own culpability in whatever is broken between you and someone else: Search me, O God, and know my heart; ... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. God is the only one who can enable me to see and confess my own sin.
Many Prodigals want liberation, not transformation; the removal of pain, not the removal of guilt. The prophet Hosea describes them: They do not cry out to [God] from their hearts, but wail upon their beds. (14:7) These rebels would gladly stay in the far country if life still worked.
When Jesus’ Prodigal (Luke 15) ran out of money in the far country, he found a job: So he hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to feed pigs. He longed to feed himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. What an indignity for a conscientious Jew—he was hired to feed pigs! And then his employer added to his shame by not paying him. It was at this low point, hungry and humiliated, that he came to his senses. How many of my father’s hired hands have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! He knew what he had to do to live: I will set out and go back to my father.
So the run-away son limped home—all he had left was a broken heart and a prepared speech: Father, I have sinned.... These are exceptional words—even in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the words “I have sinned” occur only thirteen times. And only twice do they appear to be genuine (David and this Prodigal). Those two are the only confessions which include a declaration of guilt and a plea for pardon.
I must be honest--I don’t find confession easy. When I have flung unkind words at my wife and know that my confession can restore peace, I agonize over whether to admit my sin. Though my sin is obvious to both of us, I can’t voice it. Why is my voice box suddenly frozen? Is this a foreign language I don’t know? Would it help to hire a Professor Higgins (My Fair Lady) to teach me how to speak these words? “Repeat after me: `I have sinned. I have sinned. I have sinned.’”
Cathy and I occasionally do some marriage counseling. The first meeting with a couple is totally predictable--each will spew out a long list of the other's failings. They are simply reflecting fallen human nature--a bent toward magnifying others’ sins and minimizing our own. Are you overwhelmed by your mate’s sins? Would you like to confront your best friend with her flaws? Are you angered by the lack of love from a parent? Step back. Take a minute to raise the mirror in front of your own soul. Ask God to help you see your own culpability in whatever is broken between you and someone else: Search me, O God, and know my heart; ... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. God is the only one who can enable me to see and confess my own sin.
2011/05/25
The Prodigal Son: Part 3
Should Prodigal's Be Rescued?
The Prodigal’s well-healed life was probably sunny for some time. With abundant resources, friends were easily purchased. Their flattery “intoxicated his vanity until he was sure of his superiority.” But when a famine in the land coincided with a famine in his pocketbook, all his “friends” were gone. His wild oats had “ripened into famine, his purchased friends into grunting swine”—He began to be in want.
Oh, the depths of the Prodigal’s humiliation—feeding pigs! “This was the most horrible spiritual hell that could ever befall a halfway decent Jew of that day. To work for a Gentile was bad enough, but to feed pigs was even worse.” Feeding animals which the Law said were unclean, would have been a pious Jew’s “ultimate degradation”—worse than being “forced into begging, thievery, or even prostitution.”
No parent would choose such devastation for his child. But it may be good news and a reason to not run to the far country to save your child. When the prodigal experienced want, when he came to the end of himself—his own strength, his own plans, his own devices, his own friends--only then was he ready to head for home.
David Sheff’s son became lost in the Far Country of Drugs. But from his journey through his lengthy nightmare, he learned how to help lost children: “I would not in any way help someone using drugs to do anything other than return to rehab. I would not pay their rent, would not bail them out of jail ..., would not pay their debts, and would never give them money.” If we "rescue" a Prodigal from living and eating with the pigs, he may never make the journey Home where a feast awaits him.
Sheff came to realize that he could not rescue his son: “I am confident that I have done everything I could do to help Nic. Now it’s up to him. I accept that I have to let him go and he will or will not figure things out.” Some people must learn the hard way that life’s kicks have kickbacks.
The Prodigal’s well-healed life was probably sunny for some time. With abundant resources, friends were easily purchased. Their flattery “intoxicated his vanity until he was sure of his superiority.” But when a famine in the land coincided with a famine in his pocketbook, all his “friends” were gone. His wild oats had “ripened into famine, his purchased friends into grunting swine”—He began to be in want.
Oh, the depths of the Prodigal’s humiliation—feeding pigs! “This was the most horrible spiritual hell that could ever befall a halfway decent Jew of that day. To work for a Gentile was bad enough, but to feed pigs was even worse.” Feeding animals which the Law said were unclean, would have been a pious Jew’s “ultimate degradation”—worse than being “forced into begging, thievery, or even prostitution.”
No parent would choose such devastation for his child. But it may be good news and a reason to not run to the far country to save your child. When the prodigal experienced want, when he came to the end of himself—his own strength, his own plans, his own devices, his own friends--only then was he ready to head for home.
David Sheff’s son became lost in the Far Country of Drugs. But from his journey through his lengthy nightmare, he learned how to help lost children: “I would not in any way help someone using drugs to do anything other than return to rehab. I would not pay their rent, would not bail them out of jail ..., would not pay their debts, and would never give them money.” If we "rescue" a Prodigal from living and eating with the pigs, he may never make the journey Home where a feast awaits him.
Sheff came to realize that he could not rescue his son: “I am confident that I have done everything I could do to help Nic. Now it’s up to him. I accept that I have to let him go and he will or will not figure things out.” Some people must learn the hard way that life’s kicks have kickbacks.
2011/05/09
The Prodigal Son: Part 2
The Lure of "Far Countries"
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
2011/04/20
The Prodigal Son: Part 1, What Is Freedom?
The son of a wealthy rancher came to his father with a demand:
The father in my account asked a good question: "What is freedom?" Is it a “life without limits”? An unrestricted life would be like driving a car without any road rules—Demolition Derby here we come! Proper limits actually increase our freedom. I feel free to drive my car on the highway because I know most drivers will obey laws like: “Drive on the right side of the road.”
Peter Kreeft has written that God’s laws are the fence He puts up near life’s cliffs. I welcome a fence when I am standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon—it is for my protection. Though I still have the freedom to blast through it or leap over it, the predictable result will be a shattered body. The rules in the Prodigal's household were a blessing to that young man. He began to be in want after he fled to the far country.
God’s laws, then, are designed to shelter us. When a couple refuses to wander sexually, it gives them a more satisfying sex life (as surveys show repeatedly.) When a person refuses to manipulate others, he delights in healthy relationships. When a leader rejects enthroning himself, he will find joy in serving others. There is a moral current to this world. You have the freedom to paddle upstream. But is that freedom?
“Dad, give me my share of your estate.”This essentially is the opening of the Biblical story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). In the Biblical account: (a)the son wanted his inheritance—Father, give me the share of property that belongs to me. (b)The father gave him his share!—So he divided his living between [his two sons]. (c)The son split—Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took his journey into a far country.
“But son, I haven’t died yet.”
“So what? I still want you to cash in your IRA and your insurance policies, sell your stocks, and give me my share of the money.”
“But son, where are you going?
“Someplace a whole lot better than here.”
“But, son, what is your hurry?”
“Dad, you haven’t let me experience the world. How can I become my own man while I am living under all these binding rules? I need freedom!"
“But son, what is freedom?”
The father in my account asked a good question: "What is freedom?" Is it a “life without limits”? An unrestricted life would be like driving a car without any road rules—Demolition Derby here we come! Proper limits actually increase our freedom. I feel free to drive my car on the highway because I know most drivers will obey laws like: “Drive on the right side of the road.”
Peter Kreeft has written that God’s laws are the fence He puts up near life’s cliffs. I welcome a fence when I am standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon—it is for my protection. Though I still have the freedom to blast through it or leap over it, the predictable result will be a shattered body. The rules in the Prodigal's household were a blessing to that young man. He began to be in want after he fled to the far country.
God’s laws, then, are designed to shelter us. When a couple refuses to wander sexually, it gives them a more satisfying sex life (as surveys show repeatedly.) When a person refuses to manipulate others, he delights in healthy relationships. When a leader rejects enthroning himself, he will find joy in serving others. There is a moral current to this world. You have the freedom to paddle upstream. But is that freedom?
2011/03/07
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 8
Special Times and Seasons
Late summer is watermelon time in Texas. Young Allen Lacy asked his granddaddy why they couldn't eat it all year round. This elderly man's thoughtful reply was:
We have watermelons because the Good Lord saw fit to give us watermelons. It was one of the better things He did, and special things need special times and seasons. God gave Texas a little more heat than most places just so that our watermelons would be the best on earth. It's a blessing, but the last thing in the world we need here in Texas is a few more months of heat, just for the sake of more watermelon.
Unfortunately, most grocers are not bound by "times and seasons"—I can buy peaches any month of the year. But how does a January peach taste that was picked green in South America, trucked to a port, shipped to a U.S. port, trucked to a warehouse and, finally, delivered to my grocery store? What do you think?! It is either stone hard or mushy soft. After dozens of disappointments, this fool is learning to resist the false hope of non-seasonal fruit. I now spend my money on fall apples, winter citrus, spring asparagus, summer peaches.
The challenge in life, too, is to enjoy seasonal fruit. Solomon claimed: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Eccl.3:1) Are you a parent of young children? Then enjoy the sweet taste of morning snuggling and bedtime reading, of candid conversations and corkscrewed reasoning, of trusting spirits and untrustworthy emotions. That delicate fruit will soon be gone. Don't crave a child who uses the toilet and sleeps through the night and carries on a rational discussion (which won't happen until they are 40!).
We South Dakotans joke that we have two seasons—winter and road repair! And both provide abundant ammunition for complainers. A number of years ago Cathy and I recognized that we were habitually crabbing about our bleak winters. "Why does it have to be so cold?" "I don't think spring will ever come." "These icy roads are horrible!" "I'm so tired of being cold; I can't wait to be hot." "Why would anyone choose to live here?!"
Stabbed by prisoner Paul's claim that he could be content in any and every situation, we sought to enjoy the season of winter. We bought cross-country skis. We put a wood-burning fireplace in our new home. We spend time with friends more frequently. We bundle up most winter days—if the snowdrifts aren't too high or the wind-chill too low—and hike with our dog. Our goal is to embrace the slower pace of winter. While the garden and other warm-weather activities lie dormant, we have more time to read, reflect, converse, write.
Do you find yourself in poverty? Are you going through a season of poor health? Have you recently become empty-nesters? When our boys were young it was a challenge to get them to taste new food. "Com'n. Try a little taste. You'll like it." Maybe our heavenly Father is coaxing his kids in the same way. "Com'n. This season's fruit is superb. Won't you try a bite?"
Late summer is watermelon time in Texas. Young Allen Lacy asked his granddaddy why they couldn't eat it all year round. This elderly man's thoughtful reply was:
We have watermelons because the Good Lord saw fit to give us watermelons. It was one of the better things He did, and special things need special times and seasons. God gave Texas a little more heat than most places just so that our watermelons would be the best on earth. It's a blessing, but the last thing in the world we need here in Texas is a few more months of heat, just for the sake of more watermelon.
Unfortunately, most grocers are not bound by "times and seasons"—I can buy peaches any month of the year. But how does a January peach taste that was picked green in South America, trucked to a port, shipped to a U.S. port, trucked to a warehouse and, finally, delivered to my grocery store? What do you think?! It is either stone hard or mushy soft. After dozens of disappointments, this fool is learning to resist the false hope of non-seasonal fruit. I now spend my money on fall apples, winter citrus, spring asparagus, summer peaches.
The challenge in life, too, is to enjoy seasonal fruit. Solomon claimed: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Eccl.3:1) Are you a parent of young children? Then enjoy the sweet taste of morning snuggling and bedtime reading, of candid conversations and corkscrewed reasoning, of trusting spirits and untrustworthy emotions. That delicate fruit will soon be gone. Don't crave a child who uses the toilet and sleeps through the night and carries on a rational discussion (which won't happen until they are 40!).
We South Dakotans joke that we have two seasons—winter and road repair! And both provide abundant ammunition for complainers. A number of years ago Cathy and I recognized that we were habitually crabbing about our bleak winters. "Why does it have to be so cold?" "I don't think spring will ever come." "These icy roads are horrible!" "I'm so tired of being cold; I can't wait to be hot." "Why would anyone choose to live here?!"
Stabbed by prisoner Paul's claim that he could be content in any and every situation, we sought to enjoy the season of winter. We bought cross-country skis. We put a wood-burning fireplace in our new home. We spend time with friends more frequently. We bundle up most winter days—if the snowdrifts aren't too high or the wind-chill too low—and hike with our dog. Our goal is to embrace the slower pace of winter. While the garden and other warm-weather activities lie dormant, we have more time to read, reflect, converse, write.
Do you find yourself in poverty? Are you going through a season of poor health? Have you recently become empty-nesters? When our boys were young it was a challenge to get them to taste new food. "Com'n. Try a little taste. You'll like it." Maybe our heavenly Father is coaxing his kids in the same way. "Com'n. This season's fruit is superb. Won't you try a bite?"
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