How do you feel when people get away with stuff? What if they say they’re sorry?
This week, we’ve looked at Jesus’ stories of the lost being found, with the refrain, “So there is rejoicing over one sinner who repents.” In the story of the son who left home with his inheritance and slunk back, broke and broken, the father who greets him with open arms says, “…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.”
Do we rejoice when someone is forgiven for something awful? Not always. Jesus knew that – so his story doesn’t end with the celebration. There’s another part. The elder son, who has stayed and tended the estate he will one day inherit, hears music and dancing. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.”
Does he run in with relief to greet his baby brother, whom they all feared dead? Not so much. He is furious. He refuses to join the party. Once again, the father goes outside to meet a son, and is met with a barrage of bitterness and resentment. Turns out the “good son” wasn’t so happy being helpful and compliant all the time. Or maybe he was – until he saw his ne’er-do-well brother seemingly rewarded after breaking their father’s heart and squandering family resources. Now he wants to know why he was never given so much as a goat to roast, when this “son of yours” gets the calf they’ve been fattening up for a feast?
This is the cry of all the “good girls” and “good boys” and responsible ones: “I did what you wanted. Why don’t you love me more than the one who screwed up?”
The father in Jesus’ story doesn’t distinguish “more” or “less.” He says, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’” In “all that is mine is yours” he is saying he can’t possibly love him MORE – he already loves him the most. And he can’t love his younger son LESS – his great love compels him to rejoice over this restoration of wholeness to the family.
How do you feel when someone does wrong and is forgiven, "gets away with it?" Think of someone. Can you see him or her with the Father’s eyes? That can move us to compassion.
This story has tremendous power to open people’s hearts to considering how vast God’s love is. I’ve told it to people in recovery, and most get it. Is there someone in your life who needs to hear it? Polish it up and tell it to them.
Some years ago, in prayer. I sensed God say to me: “I already love you the most. There is nothing you have to do, or can do, to make me love you more – I already love you the most, with the love that fills the universe and beyond.” It’s taking me some time to live into that love, and to extend it to others. Thankfully, I have a lifetime to learn to absorb it, trust it, let it make me whole. A ifetime, and eternity beyond that. You too.
For a rich and wonderful book on this story, I recommend Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son.
No comments:
Post a Comment