The Choice for Grace
Rev. Emily Wilmarth, First Presbyterian Church of Highlands
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
The kingdom of God rejoices when what was lost is found. Jesus gives us today’s parable of the prodigal son in a succession of three parables about the lost and found. He starts with the story of the lost sheep: a shepherd has a flock of one hundred sheep and one goes missing. The shepherd brazenly leaves the ninety-nine to search for the one. He rejoices when he finds the little creature, and Jesus says God is the same. When one sinner repents, God is delighted.
Jesus follows with the parable of the lost coin. A woman with ten coins loses one, and she scours her home until she finds it. In utter joy, she throws a small party, calling together her friends and neighbors so they can celebrate with her. That’s how it goes in the reign of God, Jesus explains. Joy and celebration when a lost soul is found.
And then he tells the parable of the prodigal son. You would think Jesus was trying to hit the ball home, to round out his solid examples of how God rejoices when the lost are found. And that is truly what this story is about. But, there’s much, much more to this parable than a tale of lost and found.
For one thing, in the stories of the sheep and the coin, the only character with any agency is the one who goes searching: the shepherd or the woman. With these parables, Jesus tells us about the nature of God. God is a persistent searcher. God is the main actor, relentlessly seeking out the lost and rejoicing when the lost become found. If you find the presence of God missing in your life, rest assured. God is not the one who has abandoned you.
Also with these parables, Jesus tells us about the different ways we find ourselves separated from God. The coin, inanimate and unable to make active choices, is like those who don’t have a chance to know God, who perhaps never had access to the Bible or to a church. How wonderful when someone who has had no option to know God finally finds their way to faith. The sheep, though animate, is a distracted wanderer. There are always times in our lives when we get distracted from our path of discipleship. We focus on the treasures of this world instead of heaven’s treasures. But God seeks us out and draws us back into the fold.
It’s different in the story of the prodigal son. He makes the choice to leave the fold. In a way, he loses himself. And it’s no small choice, either. Asking his father for his inheritance was like wishing his father dead. According to birthright, the older son would inherit a larger portion of his father’s wealth, most likely the farm. The younger son would inherit a smaller percentage, and presumably the father had to liquidate in order to give him his due. It was a presumptuous, insulting request to both father and family. The fact that the son goes off to a foreign land and squanders it all doesn’t smooth anything over, either. In essence the son has cut himself off completely from his family – and seemingly for good.
It’s interesting that the father does nothing to convince his son to do otherwise. He simply fulfills the request and leaves his son alone. Unlike the shepherd or the woman with the coin, dad doesn’t go searching relentlessly for his son.
And what does it take for the son to return? Hunger. Basic human need. The son finds himself in a state of desperation, living in an actual pigsty, eating livestock feed. Suddenly it occurs to him: at home, even the help has food to spare, real food. At the very least, the son knows he can’t go back to the life he once knew as the son of a wealthy farmer. But he can hope for a place in the ranks of the hired hands. The son prepares his speech, but what we don’t really know is whether or not he’s truly repentant. His speech sounds repentant, but are these just words? Does he feel truly sorry for leaving his home, for forsaking his father? Or is he just desperate, hungry, and willing to do whatever it takes to get a good meal?
Apparently, it doesn’t matter. Like the shepherd with his sheep and the woman with her coin, the father rejoices at the first sight of his son returning home. Dad goes to every possible length – the fatted calf, the finest robe, a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet – to celebrate his son’s return. The father doesn’t need excuses, doesn’t care about apologies, doesn’t worry about the son’s change of heart. The son does offer his confession, but before he can get those words out, the father has welcomed him with open arms. He’s overjoyed that his boy has returned home. No questions asked, all is forgiven.
This is how it is with God. Grace, forgiveness, acceptance all precede repentance. Grace comes first – grace, acceptance, forgiveness, all these come first - because they are already there. And repentance is important. It’s necessary if we want to grow in relationship with God. It’s why we pray our prayer of confession every Sunday in worship. After all, without repentance, how can we know grace?
I think grace before repentance is grace we don’t expect. Perhaps it even overwhelms us. Is it possible that God can love us this much, despite our enormous capacity to fall short of God’s glory? Is God really willing to forgive us – without question – when we turn our backs to the gospel? When we clearly don’t deserve it, will God really receive us with open arms? Jesus says yes.
When we baptize infants, we celebrate the reality of this grace. Though hardly inanimate, little Ward is more like the sheep or the coin in Jesus’ parables. He hasn’t made any choices for or against God. But God rejoices in his little, beloved life. In baptism, God claims us as God’s own, before we can even articulate our love, our devotion, or even our sin before God. Peter Gomes says “It’s the nature of the Father to love those to whom he has given life…”[i] In baptism, we declare that truth boldly, joyfully. One day Ward will be able to make his own claims about his faith, but now, we make the claim on his behalf: God chooses us, even before we choose God. We hope and pray that Ward won’t ever be apart from God. But if he is, and no matter the reason he is, he will still always be a child of the covenant, one whom God will go to all ends to seek out, and one for whom God will rejoice when he returns home. Just as God has done, and still does for all of us.
But the parable doesn’t end here. And I think this is critical to Luke’s point. Recall how the chapter begins: Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” It’s this comment that prompts Jesus to tell the three lost-and-found parables.
I think Jesus speaks directly to the Pharisees and the teachers of the law when he extends the last parable to the older brother. Here is the son who has never turned his back on his father. He is the loyal, the obedient, the faithful boy who has served according to his father’s homestead. He has done everything right; he has checked off all the boxes. He deserves the father’s love. And he’s ticked when the unfaithful, disrespectful, ungrateful brother returns home and receives the most lavish welcome. I don’t blame him. It doesn’t seem fair.
“This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” It’s law-breaking action on Jesus’ part. These sinners don’t deserve the love and attention of the son of God. They aren’t worthy of God’s grace and forgiveness. They don’t belong in the same circles as the upstanding, law-abiding, righteous Pharisees and teachers. And it ticks them off that Jesus breaks bread with them.
The father says, “Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” In his anger and frustration, the older son fails to recognize how amazing life with the father is. It is the good life, there for him to enjoy all the time. He doesn't need to wait for grace to come his way. It is always available.
Grace is not mathematical. It doesn’t calculate our good deeds and bad deeds. God is not like Santa, keeping a list of naughty and nice. It’s difficult news for the self-righteous son. Surely the true disciples deserve something more from God than the wayward sinners. But, no. This parable challenges us to drop our questions of worthiness when it comes to God’s grace. It challenges us to understand and accept that God longs for all – ALL – of us to return home like the younger brother. God wants all of us to enjoy the abundant life. No matter our track record, no matter our faults, no matter our sins. God longs for us to return home.
Without a doubt, the story of the prodigal son is a parable about God’s amazing grace. But I also believe the parable is about choice. The young son chose to return home, to turn back to the father, and dad celebrates. We have a choice to turn our hearts, our minds, our lives, to God. When we do, we will find God waiting with open arms.
Meanwhile, the older brother stands outside the party, refusing to join the celebration. The father pleads with him to come inside. Jesus leaves the story open-ended. Does the brother choose to go in? Or does he stomp his food and hold his grudge? Will he forgive his brother? Will he stop judging his brother, his father, himself, and go inside to enjoy the party? I believe Jesus leaves the story open-ended on purpose. This is the choice about receiving the grace that God offers freely and abundantly.
Of course, the most important choice in this parable is the father’s. And what does the father choose? Grace. God always chooses grace. What happens when we choose grace, too?
I heard a story a few months ago about a New York social worker named Julio Diaz. It was his habit to take the train after work each night, but instead of getting off near his Bronx home, he would always exit a stop early so he could grab a bite to eat at his favorite diner en route to his house. One night, as he worked his way through the station, a teenage boy held him up at knifepoint and demanded is wallet. Diaz didn’t resist, but simply handed his wallet over. As the boy walked away, Diaz said, “Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm."
The boy gave him a confused look. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.
Diaz replied: "If you're willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess you must really need the money. I mean, all I wanted to do was get dinner and if you really want to join me ... hey, you're more than welcome.”
Amazingly, the boy agreed. They went to the diner and ordered a meal. While they sat and ate, the manager, some dishwashers, and all the servers stopped by their table to greet Diaz. They boy asked, “Do you own this place? You know everyone here!”
“No,” Diaz replied. “I just eat here a lot.” The boy commented, “But you’re even nice to the dishwasher.”
"Well, haven't you been taught you should be nice to everybody?"
"Yea, but I didn't think people actually behaved that way," the teen said.
Diaz asked him what he wanted out of life. "He just had almost a sad face," Diaz says. The teen couldn't, or wouldn’t, come up with an answer.
When the bill arrived, Diaz told the teen, "Look, I guess you're going to have to pay for this bill 'cause you have my money and I can't pay for this. So if you give me my wallet back, I'll gladly treat you."
The teen "didn't even think about it" and returned the wallet. Diaz says. "I gave him $20 ... I figure maybe it'll help him. I don't know."[ii]
We don’t always know what amazing things can happen when we choose to lead with grace. Jesus and Diaz both leave their stories open-ended. But I imagine this world would look a lot different if we tried. Just think what could happen if we always tried to resolve our differences with love instead of hate, with inclusion instead of estrangement or segregation, with generosity instead of greed, with kindness instead of fear.
I don’t know. But I imagine the results would be something amazing.
[i] As told by Peter J. Gomes, "It's About the Father: The Prodigal Son," in Strength for the Journey: Biblical Wisdom for Daily Living, San Francisco, Harper San Francisco, 2003, 237-238.
[ii] http://www.npr.org/2008/03/28/89164759/a-victim-treats-his-mugger-right