Sermon 3/31/2019 “Returning from ‘A Distant Country’”
Preacher: Jo J. Belser
Locations: Church of the Resurrection at Immanuel Chapel, Virginia Theological Seminary
Text: Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Day: 4Lent, Year C (March 31, 2019)
We LOVE the story of the Prodigal Son. One of the reasons this story, is so appealing is that we all have, at least metaphorically, traveled to the “distant country” Jesus told about, the one suffering from famine. Another of the reasons this story is so appealing is that we all have been the older brother, metaphorically speaking. We want to be Our Father’s only child, for Our Father God to love us best. What we often forget, though, is that Jesus told this story to explain to his critics why he was spending time with sinners, why he was spending time with US.
Aren’t we all sinners? And Jesus was “God-come-to-us,” the Christ, the unnamed son in the Prodigal story, the son who came to the Distant Country to show us the way home to Our Father. As Jesus told the story, though, he only identified two sons: the son who had demanded his inheritance early and gone to a “distant country,” and the son who remained home with Our Father.
Of course, Our Father loves all his children—fully, completely. So, when one of his children demanded his inheritance as if his Father were dead, Our Father asked no questions, made no objections. Instead, from his bottomless love for his children, he gave this child a great treasure—life here in this world and the freedom to use this inheritance as the child chose.
I hope you don’t think we have the story of the prodigals all figured out. That would be like the Pharisees who criticized Jesus for associating with sinners—THEY thought they had the Law all figured out, knew the mind of God. So, let’s take a fresh look at Jesus’ parable about Our Father’s children.
You all know who the ORIGINAL prodigal son was, don’t you? We call him Adam. He took his inheritance early—ripped it from the Tree. This makes US, the descendants of Adam, the distant prodigal children. Because you and I are alive, here in this world, here in the “distant country,” we are THIS son, the son who left home. We are away from Our Father, here in this world, here in this life. We spend our inheritance in profligate ways, reckless ways; we squander what we have been given—life and love—on things that give us fleeting pleasure.
Our other brothers, the angels, are with Our Father. And they are faithfully doing God’s work. Sometimes these siblings of ours, the angels, may resent us occasionally, resent that we’ve been allowed to have the inheritance Our Father gave us, have been allowed the freedom to live as we choose, apart from the Father. Perhaps these, our siblings, wonder why Our Father hasn’t given THEM the life we have.
I suspect this because long ago, one of these brothers also demanded and got HIS inheritance. This particular angel is here with us in the Distant Country, trying to convince us to stay here with him, telling us that Dad’s disowned us or even that we are Fatherless.
But Our Father IS waiting for us, waiting for us to “come to ourselves,” as Jesus described the process by which we realize who we are: Children of God (beloved of Our Father), waiting for us to decide to return home from a Distant Country, waiting for us to repent.
Last week I described “repentance” in a larger way than just saying “I’m sorry” over and over again for our misdeeds. Repentance IS this, but there’s a larger sense of repenting that’s required also. Complete repentance involves turning our will and our purpose over to God, putting our inheritance to use for God’s purposes.
Last week I promised that today I would talk about HOW to repent. Well, the wayward son in Jesus’ parable shows us the way. First, we have to “come to ourselves.” This means we stop our self-denial and take an honest look at who we are. We discover all is not well. We are stuck: stuck in pig-muck, starved of honesty, and half-dead from whatever we’ve been using to cope with our run-away lives and with the pains and heartaches of this life.
Once we get honest with ourselves, we realize we don’t have to stay stuck. We admit that, no matter how hard we try, we can’t get unstuck by ourselves. We are far from home, hungry for “Our Father,” and spiritually broke. This is when we ask Jesus, the unnamed character in the prodigal story, for help. Somehow, we are given the courage and will to head home to Our Father. And, whether we recognize him or not, Christ Jesus himself walks us home.
Along the way we rehearse our plea, practice our pitch for forgiveness. “I know,” we say, “I have squandered the right to be loved by you, God, but I know that you are merciful, so I ask you to forgive me for going my own way.” But before we can get anywhere near home to Our Father—the very one who never gave up on us, who has been watching and waiting and dispatching “come home” messages to us—Our Father meets us and showers us with love and forgiveness.
You know from Jesus’ parable what happens when we arrive home. There is great rejoicing, a big party in our honor, and… well, we don’t know what comes next. But, since we are wearing the very best robe (Our Father’s own robe, the robe he’s draped over our shoulders), we hope.
Don’t be fooled by OUR accounting. When Jesus’ parable tells the stay-at-home son “All that I have is yours,” this does NOT mean the returned brother, having been given his inheritance already, is disowned from a further share. Our Father’s resources are limitless. No matter how much God gives away, he still has a limitless supply. (The mathematicians among us will assure us that infinity minus any number is still infinity.) Our Father has an infinite supply of life, of love, for all his children.
