Jeremy Duncan: The son who asks for his inheritance before his father is dead, that's not the offense that catches God off guard. That's what we all do. That means the whole long chapter, all three stories as they build and compound on each other, all of that has been pointing toward the absolutely absurd idea that any of us have ever thought we've been in the right all this time. This is the moment where we stare directly into the center of the Christian tradition. For those of us that find ourselves on the way of Jesus, this is the hinge point of history.
The moment where everything changes, the moment where the long story of the world has taken a hard sharp turn toward grace. And we now stand together in the long shadow of both cross and resurrection, knowing everything is different because of that east, first Easter morning. Now, of the long and oldest traditions of the church is that on this Easter morning, I would say he is risen, and you would respond with, he is risen indeed. You guys are way ahead of me already. It's been a year, so you never know.
So, let's try this one for real this morning. He is risen. He is risen indeed. Amen. K.
It's already been a packed day. We have sung. We shared at Christ's table. We still have more celebration to come. But first, we get to rehearse the story one more time.
And so before we begin today, I'm gonna ask you to stand with me as we read the account of the first Easter morning. This is from the gospel of John chapter 20 starting in verse 11. Now, Mary stood out to side the tomb crying. And as she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and there she saw two angels in white seated where Jesus' body had been. One at the head, the other at the foot.
And they asked her, woman, why are you crying? They've taken my Lord away, she said. I don't know where they've put him. At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn't realize it was him. And he asked her, woman, why are you crying?
Who is it that you're looking for? Thinking he was the gardener, she said to him, sir, if you've carried him away, tell me where you've put him. I will go and I will get him. And this is perhaps maybe my favorite moment anywhere in scripture. The moment the story becomes clear with a name because Jesus says to her, Mary.
And with that, she turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, Rabboni, which meant teacher. But Jesus said, don't hold on to me for I've not yet ascended to the father. Go instead to my friends and tell them, I am ascending to my father and to your father, to my God and to yours. So, Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news, I have seen the Lord. Let's pray.
Father of all life, son of all grace, spirit, our mother who upholds and sustains all of us. God of such great surprise as to put a catch in our breath and wings in our heart. We praise you for this joy too great for words. For this new world that is unleashed in us and now us in it. For today, there are no more dead ends.
We've journeyed with you through this season, toward this day, and now we've arrived through death and life and here at resurrection. That goodness and truth alive and breathing in the world with us. Would you remind us this day that resurrection is happening all around us all the time if we would notice it? As life returns with the spring, as hope is renewed within us, as you continue to repair your world piece by beloved peace. Breathe new breath into dusty lungs, and pump fresh blood into tired hearts.
Bring new vision to eyes that have become too dull to see the beauty that surrounds us always. All so that we might celebrate life from wherever it comes to find us today. In the strong name of the Christ who died and rose to new life, we pray. Amen. You may be seated.
Alright. It is Easter Sunday, and we have one last parable of grace to explore together. Over the past six weeks in this season, we have met good Samaritans and lost sheep. We've reflected on mustard seeds and unjust judges. There is still, however, one of the most iconic parables in the entire corpus of Jesus teaching yet to explore.
That is the prodigal son. However, before we jump in, every time we find ourselves circling back to a series of parables, someone actually, usually multiple people will come to me and they'll say, I love these parables. They're great stories. I learn a lot. They're so much fun.
But, like, why can't Jesus ever just give us a straight answer? And actually, that's a question that I heard this week in my home in a slightly different form. When my son asked me, dad, when you were a kid, did you ever just ask your dad a question and he gave you an answer instead of saying, we'll have to talk to your mom about that? To be honest, it felt like a bit of a personal attack, and I told him I needed a few minutes alone to process things. But I do think it is a valid question, right, for dads and for Jesus.
Why all this rigamarole? Like, why can't we ever just get a straight answer? Well, I think there is perhaps no better example for the way that stories can take us places that straightforward answers can't, than our parable for today. A parable that actually concludes a trio of stories that build to a surprising conclusion. And that parable is, of course, the prodigal son, the story that's found in Luke 15.
Now, if your memory is good, you might recall, we've already been in Luke 15 earlier in this series. Back near the start of Lent, we looked at a bizarrely good shepherd who leaves 99 healthy animals alone in the open country to go and chase down one that has wandered away. And we noted that if we were present in that same scenario, the chance to risk 99% of our inventory to go off and chase hopefully one, we would all probably decline. That story isn't realistic. No one's gonna do that.
But it's not supposed to be. Right? Because it's a fairy tale. An imagination of the kind of world that we wish we lived in. The kind of world where we could take that kind of chance on each other the way that God does on us.
Except that's not actually the end of the story, or at least not the end of that moment. Because if you recall, the stage in Luke 15 has a group of religious leaders who grumble and mutter amongst themselves that the wrong kind of people are being drawn to Jesus. Kind of an interesting moment actually because they mutter among themselves. That's what we read, but it's also loud enough for Jesus to hear presumably. And that in itself is kind of telling like we've all been there before.
I know I have, wanting to complain but not ready to put my back into it. And maybe that's why Jesus tells a story. I mean, they haven't confronted him. There's been no accusation made. I mean, there's really nothing for Jesus to refute except a vibe.
And so instead, he tells a story. And it's that story about a bizarrely good shepherd, a shepherd we might struggle to identify with, but one that in the end, we'd all have to agree, we hope God is like that. But then, before they can even begin to process that story, Jesus just launches into another. And this time, it's a woman who has 10 coins, and one of them goes missing. And so she sweeps the house to look for it, and when she finds it, she's ecstatic.
In fact, she calls her friends to celebrate. That part feels a little overboard. I know if I had misplaced 10% of my net worth, and then I found it, I'd probably just keep that to myself, to be honest. But here, Jesus presents God as someone who's constantly losing things, and then overjoyed when they're found. In fact, Jesus even ends this second story by saying, I'll tell you what, there will be rejoicing in the presence of angels when even one sinner finds their way home.
So God is not just constantly losing things. God is not just consistently searching for those things. God is also now kicking up God's heels and dancing when any of them are found. And that image of angels dumbstruck with wide eyed wonder as God dances a jig in front of them in the clouds is, I mean, that's supposed to be fun. Right?
And yet, I think this time, this story is a little easier to identify with. Leaving 99 sheep. I don't know if I could do that. I do hope God would though. Losing a coin.
I've done that before. They're all in the cushions of my couches, and I might not be that ecstatic on their return, but definitely, I can see myself in this story. And so then, without missing a beat again, Jesus launches into a third story. Now, this one is a little longer. Luke 15 verse 11.
Jesus continued, there was a man who had two sons. Now, notice here, we've gone from a shepherd with a 100 sheep to a woman with 10 coins, now to a father with two sons. Like, he's pulling the net tighter. Right? And the younger son said to his father, dad, give me my share of the estate.
So he divided the property among them. Pretty brief mention here, but this moment is interesting, and the commentators have talked about it lots for centuries. Pointing out that this is more than just a simple request for some cash. This is a son asking for his inheritance while his dad is still alive. Now, I'll say this.
Wealthy parents helping their children while they're still alive. That seems like a good thing to me. Children implying they wish their parents were dead to get their money, less good. My kids are adopted. Hasn't happened yet, but I do know a point is coming someday when they will turn to me and say, you're not my real dad.
You can't tell me what to do. I know that because if I had that in my tool belt, would have used it against my parents for sure when I was a teenager. That's perhaps though the closest thing I can imagine to how I will feel as a parent to what this guy is going through here. When his son asks for what he'll get when his dad is gone. And yet the father simply complies, and so Jesus continues.
Not long after that, the younger son got together, all that he had, all this new money, set off for a distant country, and there squandered his wealth on wild living. After he'd spent everything though, there was a famine in the land, and he began to be in need. So he went and got a job. He hired himself to a citizen of the country who sent him to the field to feed the pigs. He longed to fill his stomach even with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one would give him anything.
And then one day, they came to his senses. I'm gonna pause here. He came to his senses. That's the right idea. That's what's going on in the text.
But that's an English idiom. Right? Like, this isn't about his sense of smell and odor that reminded him of dad. This is more like waking up to the moment. What's interesting though is the way that Jesus says this.
He says, one day he returned to himself. That's the closest way we can translate the Greek here. And the core idea is that he finally remembered who he was. Like, he snapped out of this false self that he's been living out of. And in some sense, right here in this moment at rock bottom, he becomes himself all over again.
That's a I mean, that's a really profound idea. At our worst, we're not ourselves. At our worst, that's not our core identity. At our worst, maybe, like here in this story, there's still a lot of work ahead to repair relationships that we might have damaged. But even at our worst, we can still return to the best of who we were meant to be.
And so this kid comes to himself and he says, how many of my father's hired servants have food to spare? Here I am starving to death. This is crazy. I'll go back to my dad and I'll say, look, father, I've sinned against heaven and against you. I'm not even worthy to be your son anymore.
Just give me a job. So he got up, and he goes back to his father. But while he's still a long way off, his father sees him. He's filled with compassion. He runs to meet his son.
He throws his arms around him, he kisses him. Here, the son launches into his prepared speech. Right? Like, father, I sinned against you. I've sinned against heaven.
No longer worthy to be your son. And even before he can get that all out, his father is calling the servants, bring the robe and put it on him, put a ring on his finger, sandals on his feet, bring the fattened calf, kill it, let's have a feast and celebrate. The son of mine was dead, and he's alive again. He was lost, and he's now found. So they all began to celebrate.
And even if we are unfamiliar with the story of Christianity, we know this story. Right? Because it's beautiful. And that means it's been told a thousand different ways. The lion king, goodwill hunting, Les Mis, probably even home alone if you stretch it far enough.
They're all just the prodigal son retold. Right? A child who loses himself. A child who remembers himself. A child who musters the courage to find his way home knowing his father is gracious.
And yet, a son who still is completely caught off guard by just how big grace can really be. I I love this conviction Jesus has. That no matter how good we think God is, the experience of welcome is always better than we imagine. Here's a rubric that I use to govern all of my theology. If my image of God is not at least as good a parent as I am, if my image of God does not at least live up to the grace that I aspire to hold for myself and my kids, then my image of God is not only broken, it is less than worthless.
First, because it falls short of the divine love that surrounds me all the time. But second, because if my image of God is not at least as graceful as I already am, then my image of God will slowly make me less graceful than I already am, and that is never the goal of life. Except here's the thing. We know God is like this. Right?
Somewhere in our bones, we know that God is good, that grace is real, that love can actually win in the end. And I think that by the end, even Jesus' critics that are sitting there grumbling before the stories begin are now even nodding along or saying, of course God is like this father who welcomes his son home. But that means all of this is just set up. To everything we've been reading so far, the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son, all of this is just preamble to the real story, which we haven't gotten to yet. See, parables are always they're about the twist ending.
The unexpected application of a surprising image, and I wanna suggest there's nothing surprising about what we've read so far. Remember, Jesus told us about an absurdly good shepherd, and we all begrudgingly agreed. Yeah. I hope God is like that. And then it was an overjoyed woman, and maybe that seemed a little too far to see God dance, but certainly not an image we could argue with.
Now, it's a father who is honestly, I mean, he's just a good dad. One that we would all hope we would be, an image of God I don't think any of us could even begin to push back against. Yes. This is God. That means Jesus has just been slowly reeling us in.
Getting us into position so he can tell us the story he really wants to. A story about a father with two sons, and one of them is lost. Meanwhile, the older son is out in the field, but when he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. And so he called one of the servants. He's like, what what is going on here?
Your brother's home, he replied. Your father has killed the fattened calf because he's back safe and sound. And the older brother became angry at this and refused to go in. Notice here, father goes to meet the younger son before he can return home. Now, the father goes to meet the older son before he can walk away.
Whether you avoid religion, whether you are too religious for your own good, grace will come and find you regardless. And yet he answered to his father, look, all these years I've enslaved away for you. I've never disobeyed you. You never gave me even a young goat so I could have a party with my friends. When this son of yours, who squandered your property on prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him.
By the way, notice here how this older brother has filled in a lot of details that aren't actually there in the story. Did the younger brother spend his money on prostitutes? I don't know. Maybe. I do know this guy who hasn't talked to his brother for years doesn't know any more than I do though.
And yet, he's filled in details to expand the story in ways that feed his own frustration, perceived slights, that have a way of growing and cycling out of control unless we consciously rein them back in. It happens to all of us. But the father replied, my son, you're always with me. Everything I have is yours. You coulda had a party whenever you wanted to.
Today though, we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is now found. See, I think it's here as Jesus repeats the final line. The one we heard with the sheep, and the one we heard with the coin, and now the one we hear with the sun. I think it's here where we finally realize what's been happening all along in this chapter.
The lost sheep wasn't the fairy tale. The 99 were. God spinning and dancing, making a spectacle of God's self in front of the angels. That wasn't the silly part of the story. The nine coins that thought they were safe at home, that was.
The son who asks for his inheritance before his father is dead, that's not the offense that catches God off guard. That's what we all do. That means the whole long chapter, all three stories as they build and compound on each other, all of that has been pointing toward the absolutely absurd idea that any of us have ever thought we've been in the right all this time. When the truth is we have every single one of us, everyone in this room, at some point, found ourselves out in the field missing the party, refusing to come inside because of who else was invited. And the question then isn't whether we're lost, we are.
The question is whether we would stoop to attend the kind of party that someone like us would find themselves invited to. That's what the chapter's about. All the ways that we think we are the exception to the rule. And here's the thing, We hear the parable of the lost sheep, and we know God is like that. And then, we hear the parable of the woman, and we recognize God is like this.
We hear the story of this father, and somewhere deep inside, we absolutely understand, of course, the divine takes this posture toward all of us. Because we know in our bones, God is good. Grace is woven through the very fabric of the universe that we inhabit. That's not a secret. The secret to the parable is that sometimes, somehow, we think we're the only one that doesn't need it.
And yet, the beautiful thing about this story is that Jesus says, even when that's true, even when we are resistant, even when we find ourselves like those religious leaders grumbling at the company Jesus keeps, refusing to come inside, God will still go out and find us. God will leave the party to make his way toward us. God will invite us to come inside one more time for as long as we need God to. And that is the Easter story. You cannot be more found than the younger brother.
You cannot be more lost than the older brother. You could attempt to contain God or constrain God. You could put all kinds of protocols around God. You could even do your worst to God. In fact, we could kill God and bury God, but still God would be good to us.
Because that's the invitation for us today, not to decide whether we are the younger son or the older brother or even those religious leaders who sit on the sidelines and grumble with contempt. Truth is, probably, we've been all three at some point, maybe even at the same time. The invitation is simply to acknowledge that somewhere along the line, we've all gotten lost, and thank God, all of us are being found. Those of us who were dead in the sin that we came to recognize, those of us who were dead in sin that we don't know about, those of us grateful for the grace that we found, those of us resisting the grace that is coming to find us. It does not matter because God does not give up on any of us.
Easter is the story of God refusing to let death or shame or distance or hear me here, even our own pride have the final word over our story. And it is instead the story of the father who runs toward the grace that interrupts, the love that keeps coming after us again and again and again for as long as it takes for us to come back to ourselves. For us to finally realize that God is not against us and the party has been waiting for us to come inside all along. At Easter, we sing, we gather, we celebrate, not because we made our way home, but because even when we stand reticent in the field, home makes its way toward us. And Easter is where our own determined march toward death is arrested.
Easter is where our new life has begun.
Jeremy Duncan: Hey, Jeremy here, and thanks for listening to our podcast. If you're intrigued by the work that we're doing here at Commons, you can head to our website, commons.church, for more information. You can find us on all of the socials CommonsChurch. You can subscribe to our YouTube channel where we are posting content regularly for the community. You can also join our Discord server.
Head to commons.churchdiscord for the invite, and there you will find the community having all kinds of conversations about how we can encourage each other to follow the way of Jesus. We would love to hear from you. Anyway, thanks for tuning in. Have a great week. We'll talk to you soon.