Sunday Inspiration: Sunday, June 30, 2024
The Tale of Two Brothers - Part Two
You can stay home and still be lost. You don’t have to squander love on wild living to create distance between those who love you. You don’t have to get locked up to live behind bars. Jealousy can do it. Pride can do it. Anger can do it. Fear can do it. Bitter self-righteousness is as nasty as sleeping in the mud with pigs. Dining on resentment is no better than dining on pig slop.
Last week, we looked at the youngest brother, who squandered his father’s love and wanted to return it broken. We discovered last week that God’s capacity for finding us is greater than our talent for getting lost. If you haven’t listened to the message, I encourage you to go to gfumc.com and listen.
Have you ever had to welcome a loser back home? Have you ever had to go to a promotion party for someone you know did not deserve it? Have you ever had to say welcome home when what you wanted to say was get the heck out of here?
No one asked the older brother what he thought about having his mud-wallowing brother back home. No one asked what it felt like wearing the second-best robe because the best one had been given to the younger brother. No one asked what it was like to pick up the slack while the younger brother wasted his life at binge parties. No one asked him how it felt to watch his father have sleepless nights staring through the blinds, hoping for his son to come home. And now, you want him to sit down at the same table with this self-centered, reckless-living, careless brother and have a feast? He is invited to join a homecoming party.
Preacher and scholar Fred Craddock told a story about the time he was teaching Sunday School at a small rural church. On this particular occasion, he discovered that the weekly lesson was based on Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son. In his lesson, he invited the class to imagine that the story ended differently. In Craddock’s version, the prodigal son “comes to himself” and decides to go home and throw himself on his father’s mercy. As he gets close to the house, he hears music and dancing. He asks the servants what is going on, and the servant says, “Your father has killed the fatted calf and is holding a great feast for your older brother because he has served him faithfully for so many years!”
Craddock let the ending sit silently in the room. Suddenly, there was a loud thud in the back of the room where a woman had smashed her fist on the table. After an awkward silence, the woman looked around and said, “And that’s how it should have happened!”
Most of us love with a calculated love. We consider the sacrifice. We weigh our options. We love by putting our hearts on a scale and calculating the benefits. If the benefits outweigh the risks, then we will share our love. But if the risks are greater than the benefits, we give out measures of love.
The father in the Prodigal Son story refused to love this way. He risked public shaming. He chanced, getting mocked. He opened himself up to getting hurt. The father taught that sometimes being reconciled is more important than being right. Sometimes, you must hike up your skirt and run through town as an embarrassment to embrace a son who just wants to come home.
Sometimes, you must put down the ego and give out vulnerable love. Sometimes, you throw caution to the wind and love courageously.
The older son counts. You can hear it in his voice, “All these years I have been working like a slave…….you never given me even a young goat……..when this son of yours came back.” I have brought you home nothing but straight “A’s.” I have performed top in my class, in my sport, and in my career. I have done everything to earn your love. The father says you can’t love this way. Unconditional love does not exist on the scales of calculated devotion.
It's hard to enjoy a reunion party when your heart is full of resentment. Gratitude and resentment cannot occupy the same heart. It doesn’t take running away from home and living a reckless life to find yourself far away from home. It only takes letting resentment take root in the heart. Love cannot be found at home when resentment lives in the heart.
Forgiveness can be hard to swallow, unconditional love can be hard to wrap our minds around, and grace can seem so careless. That is until we realize that whether we stay home or not, we are all sinners. We all need to be loved.
Dr. Tom Long, one of my professors in seminary, tells a story of when one of his students went jogging with his father in their urban neighborhood. As they ran, the son shared what he was learning in seminary, and the father, an inner-city pastor, related his own experiences. They decided to phone ahead for a home-delivered pizza at the halfway point in their jog. As they headed for the phone booth – before the days of cell phones – a homeless man approached them, asking for spare change. The father reached into his coat pockets and pulled out two handfuls of coins. “Here,” he said to the homeless man. “Take what you need.” The homeless man, hardly believing his good fortune, said, “I’ll take it all,” scooped the coins into his own hands and went his way.
It only took a second for the father to realize that he now had no change for the phone. “Pardon me,” he beckoned to the homeless man. “I need to make a phone call. Can you spare some change?” The homeless man turned and held out the two handfuls of coins. “Here,” he said. “Take what you need.”
If the Prodigal Son story teaches us anything, it demonstrates that some days, we can show grace, and others, we are begging for grace ourselves. No matter where we find ourselves, coming home depends on grace.
Today's message reminds us that we can be lost even when we stay close to home. The distance from those who love us isn't measured in miles but in the barriers we build in our hearts. Jealousy, pride, anger, fear, and bitter self-righteousness are just as imprisoning as physical chains. The parable of the Prodigal Son isn't just about the younger brother who squandered his father's love—it's also about the older brother who, despite his obedience, harbored resentment that kept him from fully experiencing his father's love.
Have you ever had to welcome someone back who didn't seem to deserve it? Have you ever felt overlooked or undervalued while others celebrated someone else's return? These feelings are valid, but holding onto them can prevent us from joining the celebration of reconciliation and grace that God invites us to.
Unconditional love, as demonstrated by the father in the parable, does not calculate risks or benefits. It's a love that risks public shaming and personal hurt for the sake of reconciliation. It's a love that embraces, forgives, and celebrates without condition.
If we harbor resentment, we miss the joy of reunion. Today, I challenge you to examine your heart. Are you like the older brother, counting your sacrifices and feeling bitter about others' celebrations? Or can you, like the father, open your heart to unconditional love and grace?
Forgiveness and grace may be hard to grasp, but they are the keys to true homecoming. Whether you've stayed home or strayed far, we all need grace. Let's not sacrifice love to prove a point. Let's embrace the opportunity to love courageously and celebrate God's grace to each of us.
So, how does your story end? Will the older brother let go of resentment and join the party? Will he open his heart to God's boundless grace?
If anyone's story deserves a happy ending, it is the tale of two brothers. The father does for the older brother what he does for the younger brother. He goes out to meet him. This is where the story drops off. The story ends with the elder brother standing outside the house in the yard with his father, listening to the party inside. Jesus leaves it that way because it is up to each one of us to finish the story.
It is up to each one of us to decide whether we will stand outside all alone, self-righteous, or go inside to take our place at the table of grace, where we are met by a God who refuses to give us what we deserve so that we can receive the love we need.
So, I ask again, “How does it end?” Shall we put aside our resentment and go to the party? Will you keep denying grace even when it keeps you from coming home? So, tell me, how does the story end?
Jamey
Discussion Questions
How can harboring resentment impact our ability to experience and give love? Can you think of a time when resentment affected a relationship in your life?
Have you ever been in a situation where you had to welcome someone back who you felt didn't deserve it? How did you handle it, and what were the emotional challenges?
Why can forgiveness be so challenging, and how does holding onto unforgiveness affect us spiritually and emotionally? Can you share a personal story of forgiveness?
The parable ends with the older brother standing outside the celebration. How do you think the story should end for him, and what steps can you take to ensure your story ends with reconciliation and grace?
Prayer
Heavenly Father,
We come before You today with humble hearts, recognizing our need for Your boundless grace and unconditional love. Teach us to welcome others with the same grace that You extend to us, even when it feels undeserved. Grant us the strength to put aside our bitterness and resentment and embrace those who seek reconciliation and return home.
We pray for hearts open to Your transformative grace, for willingness to join the celebration of reconciliation, and for wisdom to let go of the scales of calculated devotion. Teach us to love as You love unconditionally and without measure.
As we stand at the threshold of our own stories, may we choose to enter the house of grace, leaving behind our self-righteousness and embracing the joy of Your presence. Let us take our place at the table where Your love abounds, grace flows freely, and all are welcomed home.
In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.
Benediction
May the Lord bless you and keep you,
May His face shine upon you and be gracious to you,
May His countenance be lifted upon you and give you peace.
As you go forth from this place, may you carry with you the lesson of the prodigal sons, both the one who strayed and the one who stayed. Remember that true homecoming is not measured in distance but in the openness of your heart. Amen.