Reckless love...

The story of the prodigal son is one of the most famous in the Bible.  Even those with only a passing knowledge of the parables are usually familiar with the epic tale of two sons pitted against each other, vying for their father's love and attention.  Whether The Responsible One or The Wild Child, or more likely a combination of the two, most of us can relate to the sons as they struggle with their choices, a story of right and wrong and ultimately, forgiveness.

The younger son, the flighty, irresponsible one, did the unforgivable.  He treated his father as dead, humiliated him in front of everyone they knew, and considered only his own desires.  He gave no thought to anyone else, put himself first, and alienated himself from the very people he needed most.

We understand the fury of the brother who stayed, doing his duty and expecting his just reward.  We feel his seething hurt as, instead of honored, he felt shunted aside in favor of the wayward son, and we can relate to his resentment all too easily.

We scoff at the extraordinary foolishness of the younger son, but the true motives of the older son are revealed in his response to his brother's return, and they aren't really any better.  They were both looking for a payoff.  It wasn't about dad, it was about them.

But there is a lot more to the story.  This parable is not really about the sons at all.  This is the story of a father's love, a reckless, all encompassing, all forgiving love which transcends everything else.  The father, who has every reason to be angry with both of his wayward children, tenders forgiveness instead of retribution and compassion instead of scorn.  He throws open his arms, runs down the road in welcome, and instead of indifference offers grace.

The father is the main character here.  It is his story that provides the foundation and the context for everything that happens.  The children, willful and angry in turn, provide the backdrop.  It is the extraordinary love of the father which changes everything.

Children today hold a central place in our lives.  Our world revolves around them, and I think the power of the message sometimes gets lost in translation.  In the time of Christ's ministry, children had a different place in the social structure.  They were little more than chattel, with no inherent merit on their own.  Children were taught to respect their elders and to stay in their place, told what to do and how to live, often until their parents died.  It was the natural order of things, unquestioned.

For a wealthy man, an elder, the Head of the Family, a man who was to be respected and venerated, to pick up his robes and run down the road to meet this son who had shamed his family and treated his father as dead would have been unthinkable.  It is easy, in the context, to understand the anger and bewilderment of the older son at his father's unconditional response to the prodigal's return.

But the older son has also gotten it all wrong.  He stayed with his father, it is true.  But he did not stay because his father needed him, or because he loved his father so much he wanted to be near him.  He was not concerned about his father's reputation or the possibility his brother would crush his father's heart again.  He was looking out for his own best interests, and angry to see a threat to what he presumed was already his.

This father is our father, our creator, our God.  We are the angry, willful children who want things our way, believing we can give ultimatums to persuade God to bend to our will or falsely imagining that we can buy our way to salvation with good works.  While we may demand to do what we want, expecting to reap the rewards we feel are due to us, we are no better than these sons who indulged their own dreams at their father's expense.

In Luke 15:20b we read:

"But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him."

The father was not blind to the faults of either child.  He knew he had been betrayed, but loved his dishonorable son, anyway.  He knew he had been used, and yet he valued his greed driven son above all others.  He threw his party, not because he was oblivious to the wrongs, but because he understood the failures of spirit and loved his children anyway, no matter what they had done.

The message of the prodigal son is about a love so reckless it puts aside our every wrong in order to make us right with God.  We will never earn our way to heaven.  We are not entitled to eternal life with God.  But because he loves us so much, he is willing to meet us, not halfway, but right where we are.

We are the prodigal, but the story is not about us.  The real message is one of God's grace, received not because we deserve it, not because we have earned it, but because he loves us so much he is willing to do whatever it takes to secure our return to him.