Bible Text:

“But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found’ And they began to celebrate.”           (Luke 15:22-24)                         

Fred Craddock tells the story of a Sunday School class he was asked to teach as a substitute at the 11^th hour. He explained to the class that the subject for the morning was going to be the story of the Prodigal Son. He said, “You all know how this story goes. It’s about a young man who demanded his inheritance from his father, went off into the far country and squandered it all, and then wanted to come home. The father, upon seeing his son returning, said to him, ‘I’m sorry, son, but you made your bed and now you must sleep in it. You can’t come home.’” 

Craddock said at that point somebody protested, “Dr. Craddock, that isn’t the way the story goes.” To which another woman piped up and said, “No, but it should be.” 

The Prodigal Son is a powerful story. I have a retired clergy friend who felt it so deeply throughout his ministry that he preached it once every year. He always wrote a new message, and it was always deeply personal. The people never tired of it. 

I realized recently that I have never preached on this story. I preached around it. I have preached from the other two parables from Luke 15—the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin. However, I have never specifically preached the story of the Prodigal Son. 

It’s the story of two sons and a father. No one else in the family is ever mentioned. Tradition says that in that kind of setting, the older son inherits two-thirds of the estate, and the younger son inherits one-third, upon the death of the father. The younger son says to his father, “I’ll take mine now, please.” The sad part of the story is that the father complied. Here is a young man who treated his father as though he had already died. Then he wasted the money on prostitutes. That is the clear implication of Jesus’ story. 

Eventually the money ran out. The son ends up taking care of a herd of pigs. Hearers of this story must have really winced at that, because of the issues between pork and Jewish law. Finally the boy decides to come crawling back to his father’s farm. 

As he nears home, his father sees him coming. He runs to meet the son. A preacher of the 20^th century said that this is not the parable of The Prodigal Son, but rather the parable of The Waiting Father. The father is so excited that he barks instructions to the servants. “Put the family ring back on his finger. Put shoes on his feet. Put a robe on his shoulders. And kill the fatted calf. We are going to party!” And they did. 

Meanwhile, the older son, who gets the two-thirds share of the inheritance, is out working in the fields. He doesn’t even know his younger brother has come back. He hears the sounds of music and revelry coming from the house. He walks back to the house and asks one of the servants, “Hey, what’s going on? Did I miss something?” 

The servant replies, “Your little brother has come back home. Your father has killed the fatted calf and they are having a great party inside.” 

There is instant jealousy. There is anger. The older son won’t even go inside the house. Finally the father comes out onto the porch to talk with him. “What are you doing?” the son asks. “I’ve stayed here with you these years and helped you and been faithful to you all along. You never killed a fatted calf for me.” The father simply replies, “This my son was dead, and is alive again. He was lost and now he is found.” 

A children’s Sunday School class was learning about this story, and the teacher asked, “Who was really unhappy when the younger boy finally came home?” One little girl raised her hand and answered, “I think it was the fatted calf.” 

Let me invite you to use your imagination for a few minutes this morning. Go with me beyond the parameters of the story. Go with me to a time after the party is over, after the revelry has stopped, after the house quiets down for the night. Go with me to a scene on the morning after. 

Jesus didn’t tell this part of the story, so you’ll need to use your reverent imagination with me. I’d like to tell you what I think happened. 

At 6:00 a.m., just as the sun is rising, the father knocks on the door of the younger son’s room. “Wake up, son, it’s time to get up.” 

“What do you mean, ‘wake up’? I’m not done sleeping yet. Come on, Dad.” 

“Oh yes you are. I want you up and dressed in 20 minutes.” 

“Why? What’s the big deal? Why do I have to get up at this hour?” 

“Because you’re home now, son. There’s work to be done. You must get back to work.” 

Can you hear that dialogue? Can you see that scene? I can. That scene demonstrates for me a fascinating point in our Wesleyan/Methodist theology. It demonstrates the critical link between grace and responsibility, between the father’s forgiveness and faithful discipleship, between the incredible good news and our response. 

The unspoken message in this story is this: when grace is showered upon you, you want to get up and get to work. Let’s look at this for a few moments.

 First of all, God’s initiative is grace. This is Jesus’ singular message. God loves you unconditionally. God loves you even if you have squandered some of God’s treasure, even if you have lived with the pigs for a while, even if you have treated God as though God doesn’t matter, even if you’ve treated God as though God were dead. God loves you unconditionally. Love never leaves God’s heart. And when you turn toward home, even if your motives are not always clear (at least there will be food on the table!), even if you came because you had no place else to turn, even if you have used up a chunk of life in selfish ways, God still comes running to meet you. This is the God to whom Jesus introduced us, 2000 years ago. This is the nature of God. This is amazing grace in action. 

But the grace is not cheap. Jesus demonstrates that as well. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote about this 70 years ago. This is what he said, “Cheap grace is forgiveness without repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession… cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cost, grace without Jesus Christ…”[i] 

Grace is not a pat on the back. Grace is not God saying, “There, there, son, everything will be okay. You look tired. Sleep as long as you like.” 

Rather, grace prompts us to get up and get to work. The younger son may have taken his homecoming for granted at first. “Wow. Look, I got everything back I had when I left. This is really neat.” But on the morning after, he realized how blessed he really was. He realized that he was indeed accepted, loved, forgiven, and wanted back in the family. 

I do a bit of personal journaling most mornings of the week. It’s not very literary. It’ll never be published. But I do it nonetheless. Over and over I write words like these: “Thank you, God, for the gift of life. Thank you for the meaning of life given in Jesus. Thank you for forgiveness and grace undeserved. Thank you for loving me beyond all reasonable expectation.” 

Philip Yancey, a writer with whom some of you are acquainted, says we are dealing with a grace deficit in America. There is a grace deficit among Christians. We simply do not realize the power of that gift. 

The younger son in the parable realizes the power of the gift. Jesus tells us that on the pig farm, “he came to his senses.” Jesus implies, I think, that on the morning after, he came to even greater senses. 

John Newton was born in London in the early 1700s. He went to work as a seaman. He ended up working among the misery on a slave ship, and eventually became captain of his own slave ship. 

Newton had had early religious instruction, but he had given up on any religious conviction. Then in 1748 he almost lost his life in a storm at sea. He cried out to God, “Lord, have mercy on me.” Later he reflected in his journal, “God answered that prayer, and grace began to work in my life.” 

Eventually he changed his attitude toward slave trade. He became an Anglican clergyman. He linked up with two other Anglican clergymen named John and Charles Wesley. In 1760 John Newton wrote a hymn. You all know it. It’s the hymn, “Amazing Grace.” Reflecting back on his life, he wrote these words: “Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ‘tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”[ii]

 I think the Prodigal Son could have written that hymn upon reflection. I think many of us could write it as well. I think it is no accident that “Amazing Grace” is probably the most requested hymn in our recent worship survey among those of you who ask for specific hymns to be sung. 

Notice this, however. Grace not only leads us home, but also leads us back into the fields. And the joy of it all is that we don’t get tired of it any more. Note that I did not say we do not get tired. We do. But when you are propelled by grace, you have a synergy of energy that is unlike anything else known to humankind.

It is somewhat similar to what happens with spiritual gifts. When you are using your spiritual gift, you do not burn out. When you are aware of God’s grace in your life, when you wake up at home with God, and when you’re trying to live the life of a disciple, you do not burn out. There’s a special kind of energy that’s greater than any tiredness. 

Hard work, out of gratitude for grace, does not deplete us. Hard work trying to be a faithful disciple does not deplete us. A preacher tells a story of being the visiting speaker at a church one Sunday evening. As he arrived for the service a van pulled up at the church parking lot and a group of teenagers jumped out. They were returning from a mission trip. They looked tired and worn out. One of them looked particularly beat. He was sitting on his sleeping bag, waiting for his parents to come and pick him up. “Wow,” said the visitor. “You really look tired.” 

“You bet I am,” came the reply. “That’s the hardest I’ve ever worked in my life. But let me tell you something, Mister. This is also the best ‘tired’ I have ever known in my life, too.”

 What a great statement. I hear statements like that after our own youth return from work camps, and after our adult work team returns from North Carolina, several times each year. 

This is what happens when you give yourself completely to God. When you know you are forgiven, when you know you are loved, when you know you are welcome into the family or welcome back into the family, there is no better feeling in the world than working in the fields for the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.