Today, I want to take a look at one of Jesus’s most well-known parables: The Prodigal Son. The version I’ll look at today comes specifically from Luke 15. I’ll paste the parable in its entirety here, or you can go read it for yourself in your own Bible.
“To illustrate the point further, Jesus told them this story: “A man had two sons. The younger son told his father, ‘I want my share of your estate now before you die.’ So his father agreed to divide his wealth between his sons. “A few days later this younger son packed all his belongings and moved to a distant land, and there he wasted all his money in wild living. About the time his money ran out, a great famine swept over the land, and he began to starve. He persuaded a local farmer to hire him, and the man sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. The young man became so hungry that even the pods he was feeding the pigs looked good to him. But no one gave him anything. “When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, ‘At home even the hired servants have food enough to spare, and here I am dying of hunger! I will go home to my father and say, “Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a hired servant.”’ “So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. ’ “But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began. “Meanwhile, the older son was in the fields working. When he returned home, he heard music and dancing in the house, and he asked one of the servants what was going on. ‘Your brother is back,’ he was told, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf. We are celebrating because of his safe return.’ “The older brother was angry and wouldn’t go in. His father came out and begged him, but he replied, ‘All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!’ “His father said to him, ‘Look, dear son, you have always stayed by me, and everything I have is yours. We had to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!’””
Luke 15:11-32
Now, whenever I see or hear discussions on this parable, they tend to focus on the eponymous character, aka the son that wandered away. And this character really resonates with a lot of people, because many people have points where they have left the church, had “big sins” against God, and then wandered back at their lowest point looking for restoration.
But for me, personally, I’ve always related to the other son more. You know, the son that stayed. In today’s world, they would probably be the “churchies,” or the people that seem to lack a testimony besides: “Um, I grew up in church, I was baptized at a young age, and...I’m still in church.”
But the beautiful part about Jesus’s parable isn’t that one son is wicked and one son is good; it isn’t even that one son is undeserving and the other is deserving. No, I think that Jesus subtly wove a message into His parable here that most people gloss over.
Because the son that stayed also wandered away from God.
No, he may have never left physically, but let’s look at his words and actions: he was angry with his father. He felt jaded, like he hadn’t gotten his just reward, and that his father was rewarding the “wicked” brother. He was prideful and resentful, and we can see that his heart had wandered away from that of his compassionate father’s.
So why the prodigal son’s sins were more “external”—he slept with prostitutes, squandered his money, and broke his family’s heart—the remaining son’s sins were more…“internal.”
He was angry with his father—are we angry with God?
Now, I am a firm believer in the fact that we are allowed to get angry with God. If God couldn’t handle our anger, then He would be a very...fragile God. Job was certainly angry at God, and God didn’t strike him dead. He gave him a good kick in the pants, but God was still understanding throughout His reply. But the problem often comes when we let this anger fester in our hearts and drive a wedge between ourselves and God. There was clearly a wedge between the remaining son and his father at this point. He wasn’t happy for his brother and he thought his father was being unjust. If anger at God is left unchecked, then it often makes people walk away from Christianity, shake their fists up at the sky, and wonder how such a cruel, heartless God would exist, and, if He does, how they would never want to serve Him. Anger can destroy human relationships, which is why the Bible tells us to not let the sun go down on our anger (Ephesians 4:26). Doesn’t it seem to make sense that anger could ruin our spiritual relationship as well?
He felt jaded, like he hadn’t gotten his just reward—what do we think God owes us?
This is a hard pill to swallow, because everything in human nature seems to think: “If I am a good person and do A, B, and C, then I’ll be rewarded.” We can also see it whenever a disaster happens: people will try and rationalize their way around it, which can lead a bit to “victim shaming,” but I see it more as a coping mechanism. People don’t like how random rape or murder or freak accidents seem, so they apply logical situations to them: “She was raped because of what she wore. He was murdered because he did something wrong 34 years ago. That freak accident occurred because that person did something stupid.” So as long as we avoid wearing these things, avoid doing bad things 34 years ago, and don’t be stupid, then nothing bad can happen to us. That takes the “random” out of disasters, the unpredictable bit of life. As long as we do good, safe, smart things, we will be rewarded. To transfer this into a Christian viewpoint, as long as we serve God, say our prayers, read our Bible, and follow Him, then nothing bad will happen to us. After all, isn’t that what the son did? He did “everything his father asked of him.” He dotted all his i’s and crossed all his t’s. He thought that there should be a reward in it because he did that—and that’s the way we often think. We think that God will magically “owe” us something if we do everything that He says, and feel neglected, jaded, and, yes, angry, when our reward isn’t forthcoming.
He had a negative opinion of his brother and thought that he was much better than him—how do we compare ourselves to those that commit the “big sins,” those “external” prodigal son sins?
Look at the shade and attitude the remaining son throws at his brother: “when this son of yours comes back…” Not “my brother.” No, this is the equivalent of an exasperated (and maybe slightly irritated) parent saying to their spouse: “Well, he’s YOUR SON (or daughter)! He (or she) gets this from you.” I can just hear the remaining son saying this with some sass, maybe adding an eye roll and some angry hand gestures. He thought that he was much better than his brother—and why did his father not recognize this? Why did he not pat him on the back? Let’s put this in modern terms. This is like the Christian who has always been a Christian looking down their noses at the Christian that used to be a sex addict. Who used to be in jail. Who murdered someone. Who struggles with homosexuality. Who committed adultery. Who used to be addicted to pornography. Who used to be a raging alcoholic. Those “big sins” that are hot button issues today. There is some part of us that compares ourselves to them and whispers thankfully, “oh, thank goodness I’m not them. Thank goodness I’ve never done that. I’ve been a good little boy or girl, haven’t I, God?” Jesus talks about that again in Luke 18:9-14, in the prayers of the hypocrite and the tax collector (or, to put it into modern day terms, how about a priest and a pimp?). Our words and attitudes can reveal a lot about ourselves, and sometimes, we (along with the remaining son) struggle with thinking better of ourselves than we ought, just because we haven’t ever committed a huge “external” sin.
These two last points come together as: the remaining son was prideful and resentful—not realizing that he himself was also a sinner and that everything his father already had was his.
The father flat out tells the son here that everything he has, has always been the remaining son’s to take, but it hasn’t been good enough. No, pride blinds the remaining son and won’t allow him to be content with the good life that he has. Pride blinds the son to all his gifts and makes him resentful to what he doesn’t have. Why should he rejoice over his brother coming back? He’s never gotten anything special for staying! But by having this attitude, the prodigal son is not only fostering a heart of discontentment, but he’s also not realizing that he’s also a sinner. Without his father, where would he be? He would be homeless, penniless, or, if we want to get really technical, nonexistent! That’s the same with us and God. Even if we’ve been in church all our lives, where would we be without God? If we want to get really technical about it, nonexistent! We all owe just as much to God, regardless of whether our sins are more “external” or more “internal.” Regardless of whether we strayed like the prodigal son or stayed and strayed like the remaining son.
Finally, the remaining son’s heart was no longer compassionate to those with “external” sins like his brother—how do we treat prodigal sons and daughters of God? Do we have compassion for them?
Just like how he saw himself as “better” than his brother, the remaining son had no compassion for him. He didn’t feel sorry about the position his brother was in. He didn’t even feel joy that he had returned. All he could think about was his own wants, desires, and pseudo-righteousness. He didn’t run out to his brother to welcome him home, even! He stayed back, seething and wishing that...what? His brother had stayed gone? He had no compassion left in his heart to feel for his brother. In today’s world, that can look like several things. Perhaps it can look like resenting the person who comes back to God after a rough period in their life. Maybe it’s thinking: “that murderer doesn’t deserve to repent. Look at the horrific crime they committed!” Or maybe it’s pointing the finger down at people who we think are “less holy” than us, at people that have messed up and had their “external” sins flaunted for the world to see. A lack of compassion can also crop up in how we treat prodigal sons and daughters of Christ that haven’t repented. That can look like getting into arguments online or in person, calling them names, putting them down, or telling them just how bad their sin is, or how they are going to Hell. Last year, I was talking to my writing mentor, and we discussed the idea of how starting a conversation by telling someone they’re going to Hell is kind of the equivalent of saying, “Hi, my name is Hannah, and did you know that if you murder someone, you’re going to jail?” That isn’t treating someone with compassion. That’s smacking them over the head with your own righteousness and reminding them of their unrighteousness. That’s exactly how the remaining son treated his brother: by throwing his sin back in his face, countering with how good he was, and wanting nothing to do with his returning brother, not while he was caught in his sin and certainly not when he came back. If prodigal sons and daughters of Jesus look at our lives, will they be able to see the compassionate heart of God in us, or will they see only condemnation and contempt?
So, you see, the prodigal son and the remaining son were both sinners. They both needed their father to heal their sins. Just because someone’s sins are “external” doesn’t mean that they are “bigger” than the “internal” ones that plague us every day. And, in the end, the remaining son’s sins were more devious: their consequences more subtle and he had yet to repent of them, while the prodigal son had.
While this could be a depressing note to end on, I want to focus on instead the best news of all: how the father—and how God the Father—reacted to both of the sons.
With the prodigal son, He offered him forgiveness. He ran out to meet him, arms outstretched. Prodigal sons, take heart! You are never too far away from forgiveness, and there is only love waiting for the repentant child of God. Return to Him and He will take all your sins away.
With the remaining son, He offered him forgiveness as well. He called His child “dear one,” not “you hypocrite.” He offered Him love and demonstrated compassion, showing that son how deep the Father’s love is—for everyone, themselves included. Don’t just consider yourself a “slave” to God as that son did—consider yourself a beloved heir, a beloved child. Feel God’s love...and then show God’s love.
As Romans 3:23 reminds us, all have sinned. Our sins are just different—some “external,” some “internal.” So, the question of the day: are you the prodigal son, or the remaining son?
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