“The Offense of Grace”
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Heart of the Rockies Christian Church
David A. Shirey
What were the father’s joyous words? “‘This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found’” (Luke 15:24). The word “lost” appears seven times in chapter 15. There is not one, not two, but three stories about something getting lost -- a sheep, a coin, a son. What does it mean biblically-speaking to be “lost?” I like what Dallas Willard wrote in his book The Renovation of the Heart. He said, ‘To be lost means to be out of place… Something that is lost is something that is not where it is supposed to be”[1] You and I know that when something is not where it is supposed to be, we get all bent out of shape and life doesn’t return to normal until what was lost is found. How’s life around your place when the car keys are missing? Where are the keys? I don’t know. Who has the keys? You had ‘em last. They were right here on the counter. Where are they now? I don’t know. You’re the one who lost ‘em.
Do you recognize that scenario? Well, take it one large step further—past lost keys, coins and sheep to a human life. Biblically-speaking, our lives become lost when we find ourselves in circumstances, a way of life, a frame of mind where we’re not supposed to be. A key gets lost and you can’t start the car, but a person becomes lost and life itself sputters, lurches, and veers off into the weeds and who knows how many people are made miserable because of it. Being lost is bad news.
But the good news according to the Gospel of Luke is and I quote: “The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10). As John Newton put it who was a slave trader (Talk about lost!) until God sought him out, “I once was lost, but now am found.” Amazing grace, indeed. The good news of the Gospel is that God seeks to save the lost.
Having said that, let me point out a detail in the parable and ask what you make of it. In the first two lost and found parables in this chapter—lost sheep and lost coin – the person who lost something went out looking for it and didn’t rest until s/he found it. But in this story, the younger son got lost and the father stayed home. Didn’t go out looking for him. It doesn’t say, “...the younger son traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in loose living. And his father looked high and low for him until he found him and begged him,“Please, please, please come home. I miss you so much.” He didn’t do that. He let his son live among the pigs.
My question is: When do you go out and beat the bushes for a lost someone and when do you decide ‘Nope, I’m not rescuing them this time?’ Is that a decision you’ve ever had to make? I remember getting a call from my mother when I was at college. “David, your dad and I got a call in the middle of the night last night. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Shirey, this is Officer So-and-so from the Danville Police Department, we have your 16-year-old son here. He’s all right. Nobody was hurt. But he shouldn’t have been out driving in the wee hours of the morning. Not in his condition.” I said, “Jeez, Mom. What did Dad say?” He said, “Tell him we’ll be down in the morning to pick him up.” I said, “You left him there all night?” And Mom, said, “Yes” When do you go out to “seek and save the lost” and when do you stay put and hope s/he might learn a lesson?
I’ll tell you who I’d like to ask that question to. The father in the parable. He evidenced both strategies.
With the younger son, he didn’t go out after him. The younger son finally reached the point that Scripture says, “He came to himself” (v. 17) Other translations read “When he came to his senses” he said, Why am I living this way? Hungry among pigs. “I am going to go to my father and say, ‘I have sinned against heaven and before you.’” So he headed home. The father didn’t go out looking for him.
But with the older brother, he responded differently. The older brother was a no show at the party the father hosted for the younger son. He leaned against the back of the barn with his arms crossed, scowling, because he’d always done as told, kept the rules, made his bed, got good grades, flossed his teeth and put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. But was there ever a party in his honor? No. When the father noticed the elder son was not at the party, did he leave him there stewing in his slop like he did the younger brother? No. He went out looking for him, seeking to save that lost soul. The Scripture says, “He began to plead with him” (v. 28).
I will note with the elder son as a case in point that it’s possible to be home and be lost. You can be home and not be in the right place, not be in the right frame of mind. You can be home and not be right with the people who live in the same house as you. Things can go awry in relationships to where one person is in the kitchen while another is three hundred miles away on the sofa in the next room. Both are lost, alienated from the other and from their best selves. It’s possible to be home and be lost.
The fact of the matter is that both of the father’s sons were lost. The late Henri Nouwen suggested a better name might be "The Parable of the Lost Brothers." The younger brother was lost all right. He had sin written all over him. But the elder brother was lost soul, too. His sins were written all in him. He was filled with anger, resentment, bitterness, jealousy. Whew! That's some stinky stuff. Talk about a pigsty! He was every bit as lost as his little brother was, without ever having left home!
And why was he lost? What was the source of the sin that stewed within? Three words: offended by grace. He found his father's grace to his brother offensive. "These many years I have served you, never disobeyed you, but you never threw me a party. But when this son of yours comes home comes back after doing what he did, you have the biggest barbeque in county history” (vss. 29, 30). Makes me sick!” Offended by grace.
Do see where the elder brother's coming from? There’s a part of me that does.
The father threw a party ... before the son even apologized. Where’s the accountability in that? There’s something about amnesty that feels like someone is getting off scot free. Let him come home, fine, but to bread and water, not to a fatted calf. In sackcloth, not in a new robe. Wearing ashes, not a new ring. In tears, not in merriment. Let him come back kneeling, not dancing. By welcoming him back the way the father does, the punk gets away with it. It’s not fair!
And you know what, it’s not fair. As my friend Liz Myer reminds us, “the elder brother is exactly right: by definition, grace isn’t fair. Far from keeping accounts, grace sets accounts aside altogether, loving the debtor despite the debts. That’s why we call it grace.”[2] Somebody once gave thumbnail definitions of justice, mercy, and grace:
Justice is getting what we deserve.
Mercy is not getting what we deserve.
Grace is getting what we don’t deserve.
And someone getting what they don’t deserve, not having to work for it, not having to earn it – isn’t fair. It isn’t. It’s grace. And did you notice the father ran out and gave the younger son a great big hug before the guy could even spout his apology? Forgave him before the rascal even apologized! What’s up with that? The elder brother in the parable and in us is offended by grace.
I think the best title for this parable is neither “The Prodigal Son” nor “The Lost Brothers,” but "The Grace of the Father." The father loved both sons, was gracious and generous to both sons. Jesus' love for tax collectors and sinners didn't negate his love for scribes and Pharisees. Such is the nature of God's love – it’s both/and, not either/or. God provides parties for prodigals while at the same time saying to the eldest brother, "All I have is yours as well." This is a parable of a loving father who has room in his house and within his embrace for both sons. His message to both is, "Come home."
In this season of Lent, we focus on the cross of Christ. I look through the eyes of faith at Jesus’ arms outstretched and I see the wideness of God's mercy, wide enough to hold in one arm the elder sibling and in the other, the younger. So let me ask you: could you spend eternity in the right arm of God if God's left arm is embracing people you despise? If the grace of God is that wide, do you still want in on it?
I say this because this parable ends with a dinner bell, an invitation to a feast. The father says, “Kill the fatted calf. Let us eat and celebrate. This son of mine was dead and is alive again. He was lost and now is found” (vss. 22-24). One lost son came to his senses and came home. Will he stay? Will he straighten up and fly right? Or will he relapse and get lost again? The story doesn’t say. Another lost son is standing at a distance, resenting his little brother got away with stuff he never would have done. Will he come in or not? The story doesn’t say.
But what do you say? Because look. A table is set with bread and cup. Jesus is hosting a party this morning and all are invited by a God who still seeks to save the lost. God still patiently waits for lost sons and daughters to come to their senses and come home, welcoming us with open arms to an open table. I don’t know if what you’re hearing this morning is “Welcome home” or “Come home” but the table is set and there is a place for you. If you can get past the offense of grace, the unspeakable goodness of God awaits you.
Let all God’s sons and daughters say AMEN.
[1] Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart, p. 55.
[2] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2019/3/26/lost-and-found-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-lent-4
