Today, we took a break from Revelation and talked about the Good Shepherd.
Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Father
The story in Luke 15 is popularly named for the prodigal son, but it could be titled, “The Story of the Prodigal Father.” Prodigal means recklessly extravagant, and I think that describes the actions of the father in the story. Jesus told this story in response to the criticism that he ate and drank with sinners. It is a picture of God’s extravagant love toward repentant sinners.
The father granted the younger son’s request, even though it was a slap in the face. As a father, I can begin to imagine the grief he felt as his son rejected him and everything he stood for. Rather than writing the son off as a lost cause, the story seems to indicate that the father was constantly looking for him to return. In spite of his grief he kept hoping. When the prodigal returned, the father saw him coming in the distance and ran to meet him. Imagine this dignified man running out to greet his son. In those days, one who did what the son had done would be met by the village elders if he returned and officially banished. The father was not only overjoyed to see his son, he was also protecting him.
Before the son could get his speech out, his father told the servants to prepare for a huge blowout party. He covered the son’s rag’s with a luxurious robe, put good sandals on his feet, and a ring on his finger. All of these were things a beloved son would wear, not a servant. There were no words of disapproval or recrimination, only grace and compassion. When the elder brother acted like a jerk and refused to join the party, the father went to him with grace, reminding him that he was also a beloved son. Again, there were no harsh words from the father.
We have the same kind of Father. When we wander away from him, forgetting who we are, he is waiting patiently for us to return. He knows we will return because his Spirit draws us. We are told in Scripture that God’s kindness leads us to repentance. He doesn’t force us back and hold us against our will. It’s grace and love that brings us to him, and it’s grace and love that keeps us home. In the same way, when we think we somehow have to perform to cause the Father to love us more, or think our good deeds mean we are better than our brothers, the Father calls us to remember that he loves us because he loves us. He doesn’t love us any less when we screw up, and he doesn’t love us any more when we do good things.
Sometimes we forget who our Father is, and who we are as his children. God calls us back to him, not as a servant. He calls us back, not as someone who has earned his love. No, the Father calls us to return home, remembering that we are his beloved children. He is ready to welcome us with open arms and celebrate our return.
Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son
This was first posted back in 2011. There are a couple of minor edits.
Today, I’m starting a four part series on the story of the Prodigal Son. The story of the prodigal is a story of God’s grace to his wayward children when they come home. It is also a story with a number of layers that speak to us in different ways at different times in our lives. Henri Nouwen wrote a book titled, The Return of the Prodigal Son, based on his reflections on a painting by Rembrandt. My ramblings come largely from reading this book.
The first person we encounter in the story is the younger son. This son comes to his father and asks for his part of the inheritance that would come to him after his father dies. This is more than just a request to get money due him earlier than he would normally receive it. The ones who heard this story would have been outraged at the attitude of the younger son. In effect, he was saying to his father, “I reject you and everything you stand for, your culture, your religion, everything. I wish you were dead!” In a culture where rebellious children could be stoned to death, this was a dangerous and devastating statement for the son to make and for the father to hear. The father however, decided to give his son what he asked for. He handed over the money and said goodbye. As a father, I can imagine the heartbreak he went through as one of his sons turned his back on everything and left.
The younger son went off to a “distant country,” where he squandered his inheritance on parties and whores. He was completely deaf to the voice that would have reminded him of his father’s love and of what he had been taught. In short, he forgot who he was. I would imagine that most of us can see ourselves in the younger son in some way. Some may have wandered into a life of dissipation and come out of it. Others may have experimented with some things but not gone all the way in. In my own life, I was drawn in to things that were not good for me, although I never wandered completely away. Of course, there are some out there who would consider me a prodigal today.
There is another way to be the younger son, a way that many, many more have fallen into. That is the way of forgetting whose child we are and trying to get our identity from other things or other people. That is the way I most identify with the prodigal. Whether it’s from a job, a skill, a style, or a group of people, we try to prove our worth by other things than what our Father says. Our culture says that what is important is how you dress, what job you have, what kind of car you drive, how much money you make, or what group you hang out with. Unfortunately, those things become like the husks the prodigal wished to eat while feeding the pigs. Trying to find our worth and identity in any thing of this world is a futile exercise, leading to emptiness.
Fortunately for the prodigal, he did come to his senses and remember who he was. I can see him slapping himself on the forehead, and saying, “What am I doing here? I’m not a pig farmer! I’m a son of a father who has a lot of money and food! Why am I starving here?” So, after coming to his senses he returned home. He still didn’t completely remember who we was though. Or better, he didn’t understand completely the kind of person his father was. His plan was to go home and convince his father to give him a job. He didn’t believe his father would accept him back as a son. We sometimes also forget who we are dealing with when we go to our Father. We believe the lies that we can’t be his child if we do certain things, or that we have to do something to get ourselves back into his good graces. We feel we have to “get right with God.” We forget that our Father loves us and always accepts us.
The son returns and finds himself in the midst of a homecoming better than he could have imagined. He can’t get his prepared speech out before his father welcomes him back and throws the biggest party the neighborhood has ever seen. So it is when we come to our senses and remember who we are. We are beloved children of the Creator of the universe. He is pleased with us, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to cause his love to decrease, and nothing we can do to increase his love. He holds us in his hands and nothing can pull us out. Period.
Remember who you are. If you’ve forgotten, your Father is looking for your return so he can lavish his grace and love on you.
Thoughts on Easter 2020
The Easter season was a bit different this year. Instead of gathering in person with our brothers and sisters to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, we gathered around our computer for a livestream service via Zoom. In stead of greeting dear friends with a hug, we waved to the images on the screen. Instead of getting together with friends or family for a feast, we had an Easter dinner for two in our dining room. It was a very good day, and I am grateful for what we were able to do, but it was different, in a strange way.
The coronavirus pandemic, which has devastated much of the world, has changed the way we do just about everything. Many people have been at home for a number of weeks, as “shelter in place” becomes the norm. The great majority of churches have closed their doors, either meeting on line, watching services on television, or not meeting at all. Businesses have been forced to close, and social distancing has forced upon us a new way of relating with each other.
Jan and I found some positive things coming out of an Easter weekend during time of quarantine. We gathered on line with friends Thursday for an altered Seder, followed by an online Maundy Thursday service. Friday evening we watched a Tenebrae service online, and Saturday found us experiencing an Anglican Easter vigil on line. Even though we didn’t do the things we normally do this time of year, we were able to experience a little of the breadth of the the Christian tradition’s celebration of the resurrection.
As the pandemic continues, many of the things we have taken for granted will have to be abandoned or revamped. The ways we work, shop, relate to others, and do church may look totally different in the days ahead. I think that will turn out to be a good thing. There are things that we need to change as individuals, families, churches, nations. As we come to grips with what is really important in our lives, we can become more understanding people, who treat each other as persons made in the image of God. As we learn to work together, we can become more unified. Maybe we can conduct our public lives with an eye toward what is best for all, rather than for our side of the aisle. As churches are forced out of the routine, maybe we can rediscover that the church is not the four walls, but is the family of God who are called to love and serve our neighbors.
Easter is all about hope. The hope that all will be made right, and we will be resurrected. In the midst of tragedy and hopelessness, we can know that Jesus defeated death. Because he walked out of that tomb, nothing will stand in the way of our Father’s plans to restore his creation. Nothing can change that. As the apostle Paul wrote, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Thursday
Tonight is the night that Jesus began to show us the full extent of his love. He gathered with his disciples and performed the work of a lowly household slave by washing their feet. He then served as the host of the Passover meal, reworking it to be something that would commemorate his sacrifice for us. After the supper, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane, where he begged the Father to let the cup of suffering go on by him. I believe that in the garden, Jesus began to experience all the grief and agony that is common to those of us who are human beings. Had he not been upheld by the Father, the grief would have been overwhelming. As it is, his sorrow is unfathomable to us.
As I think about that night, there are some things that I feel God wants me to learn. The first is the sacrificial love I am to show to others. As Jesus not only gave his life, but also humbled himself to do a dirty, abasing job, so I am called to do whatever it takes to show love to others, especially to my brothers and sisters in Christ. While I may not be called to host dinners, I am called to invite others into the presence of the One who gave his life. I can do this by proclaiming the Gospel to those who haven’t embraced it. I can also live out the Gospel as I relate to others and let them see Jesus in me by my love.
As I look at Jesus in the garden, I see a God who has gone through pain and suffering. I don’t believe that the Father intends for us to live a pain free life. Instead I believe that Jesus entered into our pain and grief while here on earth, and that he calls us to also enter into his suffering. I don’t like suffering at all, but it is a huge comfort to know that Jesus has experienced what I go through, and understands. I don’t belong to a god who tells me to buck up and take it like a man. I belong to a Father who understands, who is there to comfort me in my affliction, and who has redeemed, and is redeeming everything in my life. I am part of a kingdom whose history is a salvation history, a kingdom where all things will finally be made right, a kingdom whose King went through the worst that death and hell could muster and came out victorious. Because of this, there is nothing I need to fear.
May you find comfort and encouragement in remembering this night.
A Place at the Table
This past weekend, Jan and I were blessed to participate in a forum on food and togetherness. I’ll have some of my thoughts here in a few days. In the meantime here is a recap of the event by local Charlotte food writer, Keia
Table As Truth
This is the third installment in a series on table fellowship. I approach this subject with a bit of trepidation. Truth can be a touchy subject, as the term has been thrown around by those who believe that “truth” is the way they see things and those who believe that there is no real truth. I also wanted to avoid over spiritualizing the subject. There are a number of valid ways to approach the subject. I hope I have chosen one of them.
Among the definitions of truth in Webster’s dictionary are fidelity, constancy, sincerity in action, character, and utterance, and the body of real things. Truth is an important, yet seemingly rare, quality. Even those who believe that truth is relative want to know that they can trust certain people to be honest with them. Unfortunately, there seems to be an increasingly smaller number of folks who can be trusted to have fidelity, constancy, sincerity, and who are real.
One of the things that has become evident to me is the difficulty in being untrue when gathered around a table with family or friends. I guess it is possible to not be real while attending a large banquet or similar gathering, but small gatherings tend to be more intimate and revealing. When around the table, it is hard to fade into the woodwork and disappear. Conversation flows around the table, and the more time we spend with others, sharing food and talking, the more we get to know the real person. The masks come off around the table.
Inviting and accepting invitations to the table has long been a sign of acceptance and caring about the other. It is one way we can show love to others. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, we become real when we are loved and accepted. As we grow into that acceptance and love, we allow others to see who we really are, and we learn to accept them as they are. It is around the family table that children first learn social skills, and it is around the table that adults continue the lesson.
In Year of Plenty, Craig L. Goodwin writes about his family’s trip to Thailand:
Our experiences with food in Bangkok reminds me of how a pastor friend from Brazil, Claudio Oliver, helped me understand two unique words used to talk about food in Latin America. He explained to me that “alimento is what nutritionists recommend for you; comida is what your mum makes for you. Comida is what you would call soul food: family together, people talking, warm fresh veggies, sweet potatoes, corn bread, laughing, crying, prayer, thanksgiving, culture, old history, little ones learning who we are through food.”
Let us learn fidelity, constancy, sincerity in action, character, and utterance, and being real around the table as we share food, drink, and conversation.
Table As Beauty
This is the second post in a series on table fellowship.
Beauty is defined as a pleasing quality associated with harmony, excellence of craftsmanship, a quality that is most effective or gratifying. The table can be characterized by each of these things.
Gathering around a table with friends or family promotes harmony, as food is passed around, stories are shared, and social skills are learned and sharpened. It is at table that real communication happens, and it is there that people get to know each other. Folks who gather around a table on a regular basis tend to be more accepting of each other, and more gracious. One of the ways Jesus showed his identification with the least of these was joining them for meals.
One of the joys of life is sitting down at a table that has been carefully prepared with lovingly crafted dishes. Whether the food is gourmet or “country style,” served on fine china or paper plates, the craftsmanship of a well put-together meal is evident. If it’s a large banquet, a family meal, or a group of friends at a barbecue, a meal is a thing of beauty if it is done with care and creativity.
Table fellowship can be very effective and immensely gratifying. Breaking bread together was one of the more important aspects of the life of the early church. Gathering at meals was so important that one of the things involved in church discipline was exclusion from the table. In my own experience, the times I have been challenged the most, the times I have felt loved and accepted the most, have been times when I have studied Scripture or just hung out with folks with whom I have just shared a meal, a cup of coffee, or a pint. Those are the times that have been most effective and gratifying in my journey.
It’s been said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That may be true, but I know that when I am gathering with friends or family around a table, I am in the midst of beauty.