Category: Christian life

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The Prodigal Son: Becoming the Father

In The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen writes that the challenge for him is to become the father. It is a challenge that is full of difficulties. When we look again at the Father in our own stories, we can see how daunting it is.

Our Father is gracious and loving without condition. He gives us many good gifts, but the most important gift he gives is himself. The Father is reckless in giving himself to us. Jesus, who is the image of the Father, gave his very life for us, pouring out his blood for our salvation. We are granted grace and mercy without measure from an eternal, inexhaustible love. There is nothing our Father wouldn’t do for our good.

As children of God, we are called to be like him. When I look in a mirror, I see my dad. The eyes, the facial features, the hair (or lack thereof), the voice, all show whose son I am. The same is to be true of those who are children of the heavenly Father. As God is loving and compassionate, so we are to be loving and compassionate. As God is gracious and merciful, so we are to be gracious and merciful. As God gives himself, so we are to give ourselves. You get the idea.

In my late twenties my life changed as I became a father. Even though I was still a son, I was now a person with a child. That brought a change in responsibilities, and a change in perspective. As we mature in Christ, we are to leave both the prodigal and the elder son behind. We are still in need of fathering from God, but our vocation changes. We are now called to be the father. As I look at the father in the story, I see some things that will be true as we become the father. Nouwen states that the three ways to compassionate fatherhood are grief, forgiveness, and generosity.  

We grieve over those who have left home, we grieve over the injustice and abuse in the world, and we grieve over our own weakness. One aspect of grieving is realizing that we cannot save the one who has wandered away. The father in the story didn’t go after his son, but he watched and waited for him to return. So it is with us. Many times, all we can do is pray that God will turn the prodigal around. We can not go into the far country and drag them back. All we can do is wait and be ready to welcome them home.

This grieving makes us sensitive to others who are hurting, and the sensitivity leads us to forgive those who wrong us. As the father did, we forgive without question any and all who return. As Jesus said, we forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and so on. True forgiveness also reconciles. The father didn’t say to the prodigal, “I forgive you, but I think I’ll just keep you on as a servant.” He accepted him back as his beloved son. No strings attached.

The third way to compassionate fatherhood is generosity. The father spared nothing to celebrate his son’s return. He gave the best of everything, including himself. We are called to give ourselves to others in the same way. Yes, we may get hurt. I’m sure the father was hurt when the elder son refused to join the party, and I would guess the younger son wasn’t perfect after he was restored. He may well have cause his father more pain. We are to remember the hurt we have caused our Father and the grace he gives us regardless, and do the same for others.

May the Father enable us to be as gracious, loving, and compassionate to others as he is to us.

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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.

The Prodigal Son: The Younger Son
The Prodigal Son: The Elder Son

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The Prodigal Son: The Elder Son

The first post in this series looked at the main character in the story of the prodigal son; the younger son who had gone off with his inheritance and wasted it, and then came back. This post looks at the older son.

When the prodigal son returned home, there was one person who was conspicuously absent. The elder son was out in the fields, working as he had for years. In contrast to his younger brother, the older son had stayed home, working hard and obeying his father.

When he came in from another hard day’s work, the elder brother saw all the lights on in the house, heard the music and laughter, and noticed the activity of the servants. In answer to his questions, a servant replied that the younger son had returned and the father was welcoming him home with a huge party. The older son didn’t think this was such a good idea. In fact, he was pretty ticked off and refused to go into the house and join the festivities.

When the father came out to ask his oldest son to join them, he refused. He complained that during all the years he had spent doing everything the father had wanted, being the dutiful son, he had never even received one single goat to have a cookout with his friends. “On top of that, this son of yours has wasted his inheritance on wild parties and whores, and you’ve killed the fattened calf for him?”

How many of us have, at one or more times in our lives, been upset because grace has been shown to an individual who is a “worse sinner” than we are? (I see that hand. It’s mine) We just can’t believe that they got away with it! Our attitude is often the same as that of the Americans who rejoiced when Osama Bin-Laden was killed. That so-and-so got what he deserved. We want justice (usually meaning what the other person deserves) when it comes to others, yet many times we would prefer that mercy be shown to us. Sometimes, while the angels in heaven are rejoicing over one sinner who has repented, we are taking a wait and see attitude. After all, we don’t want to be played for a fool.

Sometimes we are like the elder brother when we think that because we have been good little boys and girls, God owes us. We wonder why God doesn’t answer our requests, because after all, we’ve been faithful in church, we’ve served others, we’ve had faith and claimed that answer, whatever. Then, when God doesn’t “come through” for us, we start looking around for answers. Maybe I didn’t have enough faith. Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough. Maybe I need to search my heart and see if there’s a sin I forgot to confess. Or, we begin to doubt the goodness of God toward us. “If God really loves me, why didn’t he give me what I want.”

Like the prodigal, the elder brother forgot who we was. Even though he had never left the property, he too had left home. He had forgotten the character of his father. The father was obviously a kind, loving, and generous man. He was full of grace and mercy, and wanted the best for his sons. He was quick to forgive, and to let past offenses stay in the past. Interestingly, that sounds a whole lot like our Father. He is slow to anger, and quick to forgive. He doesn’t dredge up our past and hold it against us. He loves his children with an everlasting love, and his heart is good to us.

We can not earn the grace of our Father. It is his to give freely, and his alone. We are not to look on others and complain when they don’t “get what they deserve.” Most of the time we don’t know how God is working in another individuals life. To paraphrase Aslan, God is not telling us their story, he is only telling us ours. Judging whether or not a person should receive grace is way above our pay grade. We are called to rejoice when others rejoice. Kind of like the angels.

We have all been the elder brother in some way or another. Our Abba is calling us to join the party.

The Prodigal Son: The Younger Son

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Repost: Regrets and Fears

This was originally posted on September 23, 2008.

I recently heard someone praying and this person stated that, “We come to you with hearts full of regret for the past, and with hearts full of fear of the future.” This caused me to think of our relationship to God and what should be the fruit of that relationship.

If we belong to the Father, we are his children. We are recipients of his love and grace. While our past is full of sin and mistakes, Jesus has redeemed our past on the cross. He has freed us from our sin and the guilt that comes from it. There are still times that I look and wish that I hadn’t done certain things or had done other things differently. The difference between that and a “heart full of regret” is that I realize that there is nothing I can do about most, if not all, of those things; but that Jesus has done something about them. He has forgiven me and has even used some of those things to draw me to himself. So, like the Apostle Paul, I can forget the things behind me, and continue on toward being formed into the image of Christ.

I’ll admit that I still struggle with worrying about the future. The Father is teaching me how to rest in his arms and trust him to do what is right and what is best. In Romans 8:15, Paul writes that God has given us a spirit, not of slavery to fear, but of sonship. By this spirit, we call God “Abba”. We can trust our Abba completely, as a little child trusts his daddy no matter what. 1 John 4:18 tells us that their is no fear in love, that perfect love drives out fear.

Child of Abba, take heart. There is nothing in your past that has not been redeemed by Jesus. The Father uses everything to make us more like Christ, even the times we’ve screwed up. There is nothing in your future that you need to fear. God is already there, and there is absolutely nothing that can separate you from his love. Learn to rest in that love and let it cast out fear.

Don’t let any person, trial, or circumstance try to convince you that God does not love you with an everlasting love. Don’t let anyone tell you that you must do X, Y, or Z in order for God to be pleased with you. He already is.

May you be overwhelmed with Abba’s love.

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The Prodigal Son: The Younger Son

Today, I’m starting a three 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.

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I Know Who I Am: Repost

This is a repost from August 1, 2011. This is one of the lessons God has been teaching me more and more this year.

One of the perks of driving a bus part time for a summer camp is being able to go to movies for free and see films that you might not otherwise see. Last Friday, I drove a group to the local cheap seat theater and saw “Kung Fu Panda 2.” Since our own children are adults, I probably would not have gone to see this particular movie on my own.

I like it when a popular film or song presents a biblical truth, whether on purpose or not. This was the case in “Kung Fu Panda 2.” The main story of the film is the quest of the title character to find out where he came from, all the while saving China from certain destruction. Near the end of the movie, the main character comes back to his adoptive father (who is a goose, in case you haven’t seen it). When the goose asks the panda if he found out who he was, the reply is, “I know who I am. I am your son.” Since I tend to be somewhat emotional at times, that line caused a catch in my throat. I then thought what a great picture that is of the Christian.
Regardless of the circumstances of the panda’s life, he realized that his identity was rooted in the fact that he had been adopted and loved by the goose. Even though he found out the story of how he came to that place, what mattered was the love given him by his father. Those of us who follow Jesus have the same story. No matter where we have been, no matter what stories our lives have told, we have been loved and adopted by the Father. Our backgrounds are as varied as can be, as are the ways we came to faith. What unifies us is that identity as God’s children.
As the panda was saving China, he faced terrible odds. After he found out the story of how he had been found by the goose, he was able to triumph. I believe that was the point when he saw his identity bound with the goose, and that gave him the strength he needed. Again, we are the same. When we realize our identity as beloved children of Abba and live in that identity, we can handle the obstacles that come our way. That doesn’t mean that we’ll be “winners” all the time, but it does mean that no matter what, who we are doesn’t change. The fact that we are loved by the Creator of the universe doesn’t change. God’s good heart for us is the same, whether we are “spiritual” or struggling. We know who we are. We are God’s sons and daughters. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
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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.
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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.

Table As Goodness

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Table As Goodness

In our fellowship, three of the things we emphasize are goodness, beauty, and truth. In this series, I want to look at table fellowship using these three ideas. This first post will focus on the table as goodness.

In the beginning chapters of Genesis, the statement was made that it was not good for Adam to be alone. Yes, he had fellowship with his Creator, but there was something missing. God brought Eve to Adam. They were put together for fellowship, for sharing life, and for caring for creation together.

All through Scripture, the theme of the goodness of fellowship is continued. The Hebrew word hesed carries the idea of both kindness and goodness, and many times is used in the context of relationships. Many times this fellowship is around the table. Hospitality was an important part of the Israelites’ faith. When God delivered them from bondage in Egypt, he began their journey with a meal. In Deuteronomy 14:22-26, the people were told to take the tithe of their crops for the year and have a family feast at the Tabernacle. If they lived too far away, they were to exchange the tithe for silver and spend it on the makings of a feast at a closer location.

In the New Testament, Jesus came eating and drinking. His first miracle took place at a wedding feast, and he spent enough time at dinner parties that his critics called him a glutton and a drunk. Jesus spoke of the feast to be celebrated in the kingdom of God. The early church was known for many things. Two of these were a devotion to fellowship and a devotion to eating together. What we call the Lord’s Supper today was just a part of a full meal the church ate together. In the epistles, we are told to practice hospitality. No matter what the enemies of the early church said, they had to admit that the followers of Jesus loved others. One of the ways they loved was by welcoming others to the table.

God said that it was not good for us to be alone. It’s good for us to have fellowship with others, to share our lives with others, and to help and encourage others. One of the best places to do these things is the table. Whether it’s a cup of coffee and dessert, a pint in a pub, or a full meal, spending time with people around a table is a good thing.

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Repost: Mustard Seeds

This was first published on June 4, 2009.

In the Gospels, Jesus likens the Kingdom of God to a mustard plant. I had always understood that story as meaning that the Kingdom starts out small, but then grows into something great to which everyone will eventually pledge allegiance (this all would happen during the future millennial kingdom). Evidently, Jesus had something different in mind.

To the Jews of the first century, mustard was a managed weed. It could be useful, but needed to be tightly controlled. Evidently it was against Jewish law to plant mustard in a garden. If managed well it grew into a large shrub, but not anything we would call a tree. The Jewish concept of the Kingdom of God was something that was big and powerful, like the cedar tree. It was something that would come with a bang, and everyone would know it was here. When Messiah came, he would restore the throne of David to its former glory. Israel would take its rightful place as the premier nation. Jesus turned that upside down. He stated that the kingdom would be something that started small and worked its way along like a mustard plant, like a weed that grew in places where it was unexpected, and unwanted. It would be a large shrub, not a majestic cedar. The common fowls would flock to it, not the majestic birds like the eagle.

The Kingdom of God is not out there in front. It is not found in human glory or national pride. Many times it is invisible, as it works its way through society. It is found in unexpected places, inside the four walls of a church, and outside where people live their lives. Too often we miss it. Regardless of how small the kingdom may appear, it is powerful. It breaks down barriers as it works into the cracks. It flavors life for its subjects and those they encounter. It cannot be contained in our neat little gardens, sometimes it can’t even be found there.

The Kingdom of God is open to all who wish to enter, even those who are at the bottom of the ladder. Many who are looking for a kingdom that arrives with power and glory may stand in danger of missing the true King. As Jesus told Pilate, his kingdom is not of this world.

Follow this King and enter his kingdom. Be part of the mustard plant.