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Life of the Party
Jesus tarries over the end of the story. We know the in-breaking, loving restoration of the younger brother. We know the exquisite peace of the father who’s retrieved his own from the dead. We haven’t the slightest about the residual anger, distrust, jealousy of the elder brother.
That Jesus lingers past the reuniting and draws our attention back to the elder brother matters. It matters because it is unmistakably real. It is the life that goes on.
That the elder brother flatly refuses to enter into the celebration of his brother’s return when parents and cousins and anonymous farm hands and house servants are feasting matters greatly. By his palpable absence, he mars a moment of celebration and blessing extended to anyone within earshot of the family home. He returns fire for his felt injury in a way that cannot but impact everyone drawn into the father’s happiness.
By pulling up short and denying a tidy resolution, Jesus is compelling his hearers to judge rightly, inevitably the elder brother’s refusal to participate in his father’s joy as abhorrent. He chooses resentment over reconciliation, grudge over grace.
It’s a lesson not lost on Luke, for whom this moment caps a set of stories about losing, finding, rejoicing. Everything Jesus shares in Samaria finds its pivot here at the textual centerpoint of the journey. His hearers are confronted with a choice between their own small lives and God’s abundant life, between broken independence and binding partnership.
God calls us to loss. It is a demand without condition, limit, mitigation.
God intends to celebrate. He bends the attention of the community and the cosmos toward his pleasure.
Do we believe, or do we take lightly the joy of heaven as another turns toward home?
The beauty of Lent for me is precisely in this, in the wonder of a God more intent on endowing than on reckoning, on gracing his beloved than on assessing her merit. A God whose beauty bears lasting marks. The cross keeps before us the sober reality of our sin. The man abandoned there to die keeps before us the relentless affection, the open invitation to celebrate homecoming. Mine. Yours. Anyone’s. Be mindful. Be glad.
I wonder if our attitude sometimes is like the older brother. Do we hold grudges? When a fellow believer hurts us in some way are we willing to forgive even if they don’t ask to be forgiven? Are we there like the guests ready to celebrate or have we harbored a hurt so long that it has now stopped us from enjoying the celebration that is going on in heaven? I hope not. I hope we can all forgive us Christ wants us to forgiven and as the Holy Spirit guides. Isn’t that why the Father went out and pleaded with the older son to join the party?
There was a time in my earlier days when I felt like the older brother. I struggled with God accepting the lost sons back into His arms, even when they had not been faithful. Even when they had sinned greatly. I thought, “Why should I strive to become Christ-like if those who don’t get the same ‘reward’ in the end?” For a long time I felt angry and confused over this. I think many believers go through this at one point or another: unwillingness to forgive others who don’t ask, hurt over the celebration of a lost person returning…. But should we not celebrate as Jesus does over those who finally ‘get it’? Should we not be excited when another person accepts the truth we know and live by? Should we not ‘do unto others as we would have others do unto us’?
Building on Ellen’s insight. Remember Jonah’s anger at God when He spared Ninevah? He literally went and pouted. He got angry at God for His compassion. The older brother in this parable had the same attitude. What were they angry about?
The parable is meant for personal application. Here goes. What’s my attitude? Do I withhold the grace and joy God intends me to give to others, because God didn’t zap ‘em? I better be careful and stay clear of tall metal objects myself. On top of that, do I expect praise for every simple or great deed I do “in God’s service?” Isn’t being in His service enough reward? If those are my attitudes, whose service am I in? Churchy, pouty, critical, self-righteous, arrogant, pompous, uber-spiritual attitudes – Man, I got to get over myself. I don’t want to be the party-pooper.
Michael, thank you for your well thought out and finely crafted devotional today.
The late Theologian Rev. Dr. Henry Chadwick had an interesting insight into this parable. According to Dr. Chadwick, There is a third son in the parable of the Prodigal Son. The younger son broke his father’s heart, the elder son was out of fellowship with the father, and the third Son is the one who told the story. He is Jesus, the Son of God. He is the perfect Son without sin. He came to a far country, not as a run away, but to do His Father’s will. He did not spend His life in riotous living but in sacrificial dying. He was not a Prodigal but a Prince of Peace who shed His blood for the sins of the world. He was not wayward but willing to sacrifice His life.
Maybe you are a son or daughter who has gone away? You can come back to the Father by confessing your sins. Maybe you are like the elder son, out of fellowship? Maybe you have no concern or love for your brother? Maybe you think that by keeping the “rules” you are serving the Father? Maybe you have not enjoyed all that the Father wants for you? Maybe today God is calling to you? How will you answer?
Thanks Michael for pouring into my life today. I am thankful that we have a Father who accepts us and celebrates our life. Whenever we turn to him. That is grace. I want payback He wants grace. I just have to remember when ever I think someone is being let off the hook too easily,that is exactly what happened to me. Let off with great cost but too easily(maybe I should be punished a little).
Michael: I read this and wanted to comment early this morning, but the day got away from me. I’m glad for a chance to say thank you…especially for the following paragraph:
“The cross keeps before us the sober reality of our sin. The man abandoned there to die keeps before us the relentless affection, the open invitation to celebrate homecoming. Mine. Yours. Anyone’s. Be mindful. Be glad.”
“Sober reality” really communicates. What a blessing!