Linked by Grace (Luke 15:11-32)

Grace is something I think I’m just now, at this point in my life, beginning to understand.

Grace is doing something—or, having something done for you—that isn’t expected, isn’t deserved, isn’t merited in any way.

Grace is hard to give; grace is doing more for someone than you think they deserve, and why should you do that?

Grace is hard to receive; you can never pay back grace, you can never return the favor. All you can do is receive it; and for many of us, that’s hard.

Grace is what the father in the parable showed to his younger son.

Grace is what the older son couldn’t understand.

Two weeks ago, we heard the story of two sisters, Martha and Mary, and now, today, we have the story of another set of siblings; in this case, two brothers. And I can’t help but notice the similarities in these two stories.

You might ask, “What similarities?” Because, on the surface, they are very different stories. 

Yet in both stories, the sibling who expected praise and recognition for their hard work didn’t receive it. In both stories, the hard-working sibling expected there to be a reprimand or a condemnation or a chastisement directed toward the other, not-so-hard working sibling. 

But that reprimand, that condemnation, that judgment… never came.

In the story of Martha and Mary, Martha is the hard-working one. She’s so busy doing chores and tasks, that she isn’t able to be present to her guests. She expects to be praised, to receive recognition, for all her hard work, but instead, Jesus tells her that Mary has chosen the better part.

In today’s story, the older brother does all that is expected of him, and more. He dutifully stays at home, doing all his chores, and probably all of his younger brother’s chores as well, once the younger brother leaves and abandons the family.

When the younger brother returns, the older brother expects to be praised, to be recognized, to be lifted up as an example of how a good son should behave. The older son wants his father to say to the younger son something like, “Why couldn’t you have been more like your older brother? Look at how good he is…”

But just as Jesus did not praise Martha for all her hard work, so, too, did the father in this story not praise the older brother for all his hard work.

And, instead, the father welcomed the younger son back with open arms, and with tears of joy; and the father celebrated his younger son’s return with a great celebration for which he spared no expense.

And the older brother refused to go celebrate, because it all seemed so unfair to him. This isn’t how the world works! There is an understanding, that hard work is compensated, rewarded somehow. It’s a give-and-take. 

And if someone hasn’t done their fair share, if they’ve taken without giving, then they owe a huge debt that must be repaid, before they can be readmitted and welcomed back.

That’s just how the world works!

In the workplace, if I give you eight hours of my life energy, you compensate me with a wage or a salary. 

If I do anything for you, you owe it to me to return the favor. To not return the favor would place you in my debt.

And, if I stopped showing up for work, you would stop paying me. That’s just how things are, and everyone understands this.

In our Wednesday afternoon small group—the “brown bag Bible bunch”— we recently read a story about a man who wanted to sell his car; he put out an ad, and a potential buyer showed up, and wanted to test drive it. So the seller handed him the keys, and the guy took off.

Only then did the seller think, “Maybe I should have gone with him…”

Sure enough, the guy didn’t return.

The seller contacted the police, to report that his car had been stolen, and the police found the guy, and asked what he was doing with the car. The guy said, “that man handed me the keys…”

The guy who took the car didn’t understand that there was an expectation of payment. When the police told him that, he just said, “Huh. I didn’t know.”

It sounds ridiculous to us, right? How could you not know that that’s how the world works?

If you want something, you need to give something in return… you need to pay for it.

Diana Butler Bass wrote about this in her book, Gratitude. She wrote that first century society was shaped like a pyramid, and at the top was Caesar. Caesar raised armies, defeated enemies, built roads, and ensured the peace of the empire.

But none of this was free. There was an expectation.

In return for all Caesar did for them, the people owed a literal debt of gratitude to Caesar, which they paid in the form of taxes.

It was a debt that had to be paid. It was one’s duty to pay back the debt that was owed.

Because nothing is given freely. That’s just the way the world works.

So, in today’s scripture, the younger brother had some nerve, showing up, expecting to be welcomed in. He had already taken everything that was due to him, and more. He owed the father and the older brother so much; the debt had to be repaid.

But the father did not ask for any payment. The father set no conditions or requirements. There was no punishment, no judgment. The father just welcomed the younger brother, and in his joy, the father threw a big party in his son’s honor.

When the party started, the older brother was out in the field, working… because, of course he was! He was always working, to prove how good and loyal he was; to prove how deserving he was of his father’s love.

And when he found out that his father was throwing this huge, expensive party for his younger brother, he got angry, and refused to go in.

Didn’t his father understand how the world works? Why didn’t his father demand that the younger son pay back the debt he owed? Even the younger brother, before he returned, thought that maybe he could work off that debt by becoming one of his father’s servants. Even the younger brother knew how the world was supposed to work.

But the father just said, “Forget all that. You are my son! And you’re home!”

…And that is why grace is so hard.

The father in this story is not playing by society’s rules, the rules we all live by. He’s like the guy who didn’t understand that he needed to pay money in order to get the car…

Except the father probably did know the rules, but chose to ignore them. Whatever debt the younger son owed, the father chose to forgive. 

Because if he insisted on living by those rules, and making his son pay off his debt, or place certain conditions on welcoming him back into the family, then that relationship between them would never be all that it could be, all that it was meant to be.

And restoring that relationship was the most important thing to the father.

So, he tossed society’s rules out the window. He forgave his younger son, forgave whatever debt the son owed to him, and welcomed him back, unconditionally.

The story never says whether or not the older brother ever went in and joined the party. At the end of the story, he’s still standing there, trying to decide, trying to figure out why his father is being so gracious.

It doesn’t make sense to him. It’s hard for him to accept. All his life, he had worked so hard to prove how worthy he was of his father’s love; his younger brother had done nothing to prove that he was worthy of love; just the opposite! Yet the father showed love to him anyway.

This was a hard thing for the older son to accept.

I bet, if he were around today, the older son would have a hard time with the idea of forgiving student loans. It’s been in the news lately, right? Just forgive the loans? But they signed the papers; they agreed to pay back those loans! They’ve got to live by the rules they agreed to!

Would the father in the story agree? Or would he see them struggling, working hard to just pay the interest, and not being able to get themselves established because of the debt that hangs over them…?

I guess this story forces us to ask ourselves: are we more like the Father, willing to toss out the rules in order to show grace? Or are we more like the son, insisting that we always play by the rules, no matter what?

Jesus talked about forgiving debts. Jesus taught his disciples to pray, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” And we think to ourselves, well, that debt language is kinda weird, he must have been talking in a general way about forgiving sins…”

But Jesus really did use the word debts. Amy-Jill Levine, in her book The Misunderstood Jew, wrote that “the line [about forgiving debts] does not promote some vague notion that God should forgive us for the occasional taking of the divine name in vain or for yelling at the cat. It goes directly to the pocketbook; it says, ‘Don’t hold a debt.’”

In the background of this idea of forgiving debts is the year of jubilee, talked about in the Torah. According to the laws handed down by Moses, every 50th year was to be a year of jubilee, when all slaves would be set free, all land returned to the original owners, and all debts forgiven.

Grace, and debt forgiveness, were a part of the laws God gave to Israel, laws meant to guide God’s people and ensure they lived in harmony with one another.

Now, scholars can’t tell if the year of jubilee was ever actually observed. Grace and forgiveness on that scale is almost unimaginable! It’s so radical! It’s so contrary to the way the world actually works.

Grace, shown on such a large scale, would be so radical.

Nevertheless, such a radical reordering of society is exactly what Jesus had in mind. How else do you interpret things like, “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first?”

The problem is, when you set out to completely upend all these rules on which society is built, it can get you into trouble. It can get you killed.

And Jesus was killed, by Rome, in collaboration with some prominent religious leaders who had aligned themselves more with Rome than with the way of God.

The way of God, the way of grace, was just something they couldn’t accept. It was too hard for them to accept, just like it was too hard for the older brother to accept, just like it’s so hard for many of us to accept.

Grace is doing something—or, having something done for you—that isn’t expected, isn’t deserved, isn’t merited in any way.

Grace is hard to give; grace is doing more for someone than you think they deserve, and why should you do that?

Grace is hard to receive; you can never pay back grace, you can never return the favor. All you can do is receive it; and for many of us, that’s hard.

Grace is what the father in the parable showed to his younger son.

Grace is what the older son couldn’t understand.

"Grace, Always" ( Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32 )

 The Younger Son

Jesus tells a story about two sons. Two brothers.

They both live with the expectations that have been placed upon them. The expectations of their parents; the expectations of their community; the expectations of their faith and their society.

But they do not handle those expectations the same way.

The younger son gets most of the attention in this story. He basically says: “To hell with the expectations placed upon me! I can’t live with those expectations! I’m dropping out! I’m going my own way! I’m doing my own thing!”

And he does.

Going against the expectations placed upon him, he approaches his father and asks for his share of the inheritance. Why should he have to wait for it? He wants it now!

But the thing is: an inheritance is something you get after the person you receive it from has died.

So when the younger brother goes to his father and asks for his share of the inheritance now, he’s saying that he wishes his father were already dead, that the inheritance is more important to him than his father is; that the inheritance is more important to him than having his father alive! 

The Father

The father had his own expectations to deal with; and it was expected that if a child were to make such a request, the father would disown him.  

Because such a request was so shocking, so offensive, it was expected that the father’s response would be: “You are now dead to me. Your request goes against everything we believe in. It has forever divided us. You can have your inheritance, but from now on, you are dead to me. You are no longer my son.”

Because of how this particular story plays out, I don’t think the father ever actually says that. It was expected of him, but I don’t think he ever said those words. I imagine that, with great sadness, he divided his inheritance, gave the younger son his half, then silently watched through tears as his younger son sped away.

The Older Son

The older son doesn’t really appear until the end of the story. His appearance seems like an afterthought… like an epilogue… an appendix.  

And just as the younger brother had to wrestle with the expectations placed upon him… and just as the father had to wrestle with the expectations placed upon him… so, too, did this older son have to wrestle with the expectations placed upon him.

Obviously, how this older son handled those expectations was as different as can be from the way his younger brother handled those expectations.

This older brother did everything he could to live up to those expectations - and exceed those expectations if he could. He stayed at home. He did his chores. He probably took on his brother’s chores once his brother left, doubling his own workload.

Resentment grew, but he kept it hidden inside, because he was trying so hard to be perfect. 

When his father got lost in his sadness, and would stare off into the horizon, hoping by some miracle that his youngest son would return, the older son just worked harder and harder. 

Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could make up for his brother’s betrayal.

Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could bring a smile back to his father’s face.

Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could prove to his father just how good he is, the son who stayed, the good son, the perfect son…

The more I read this story, the more I think this older brother is actually the main character, the one Jesus wants his hearers to remember long after the story ends. We often call this story the Parable of the Prodigal Son; that’s not the title in scripture; it’s the title that later readers and editors have given this story.

But if we’re really meant to focus on the older son, then I think we should call this story, “The Perfect Son,” or, “The Son who Stayed,” or, “The Son Who Did Everything Right.”

Or, maybe, “The Son Who Tried Too Hard to Live up to Expectations.”

It may be different for you, but when I take the time to seriously ponder this story, I find that this older son is the one I identify with most.

And when, in the story, the younger brother returns home, I confess I share some of the outrage the older brother has. Why is the father showing such extravagant love to my ungrateful, selfish, rebellious brother? Especially after I have spent my whole life trying to earn that love by doing everything right?

But a father’s love doesn’t work that way. A parent’s love doesn’t work that way. Does it?

The father assures the older son that he is indeed pleased by all that the older son has done, and that he’s grateful, and happy. Oh, the older son has made his father so happy! And, yes, the younger son has brought so much misery upon the father.

But the father’s love is present in the joy, and in the misery. Through both happiness and sadness, love flows.

In the story, the older son gets angry, because that doesn’t match his understanding of love. Love, he thought, is something one earns. His whole life, he’d been working hard, trying to be perfect, in order to be worthy of love.

Crashing Down

Back on Ash Wednesday, I talked about being perfect. I talked about the pressure many of us feel, to be perfect. 

I talked about the movie Encanto - the Disney movie in which the pressure to be perfect builds and builds until it becomes unbearable, and everything comes crashing down.

Literally. (Right? The whole house comes crashing down.)

And since then, I’ve seen the Pixar movie Turning Red, and in that movie, it’s the same thing: the pressure to be perfect, to be the perfect child - the perfect daughter, in this case - and for awhile, being perfect is easy, but then, again: it all comes crashing down.

Because, in the end, who is actually capable of being perfect?

We know the answer to that: no one. No one is capable of being perfect.

But it doesn’t stop us from trying. 

Because for some reason, we think we need to be perfect to earn love, to be worthy of love.

Just like the older son in the story Jesus told.

Just like Mirabel in Encanto.

Just like Mei in Turning Red.

We try to be perfect. We try to be worthy of love. We try and we try and we try. 

Because despite what we say, we still think we need to be perfect - or at least better than we are - to be worthy of love, to be worthy of God’s love.

And we create the illusion of our perfect selves. We curate our lives and present images and stories on social media that, we think, will make us look perfect, and which will hide our flaws, our insecurities, our doubts, our fears…

Oh my gosh! We can’t let people see all these imperfections!

But the pressure builds until we can’t take it anymore.

And we start drinking more than we should, to hide the pain; or we spend too much time on social media, or watching TV, until these things become an addiction. Some even turn to pornography, or seek out co-dependent relationships, or become obsessed with eating or working out or accumulating wealth, or just about any activity that, taken to an extreme, is nothing more than a cover for our own sense of inferiority.

And it works… until it doesn’t. Until it all comes crashing down.

Grace

The scripture says that the older brother got angry. I think he had a meltdown. A full-blown meltdown. With tears and yelling and hysterics.

A whole lifetime of pent up emotions and resentment were finally coming out; for him, this is the moment when it all came crashing down.

His father had to go out and plead with him. 

His father had to go out and explain to him that he does love him, his oldest son, and has always loved him, and that everything the father has - everything! - he has shared with his oldest son.

“You are always with me,” his father said, touching his own heart. “You are always with me, here, and all that is mine is yours. 

“You don’t have to be perfect to earn my love. You don’t have to try so hard to hide your imperfections. I will always love you. No matter what.

“As for your younger brother: Yes, I have welcomed him back. Yes, I rejoice at his return! And I hope you can rejoice as well. I hope you can see, now, just how strong my love is, how nothing will ever keep me from loving him… or you. 

“You are so worried about messing up - so worried that one little mistake will separate you from my love. That isn’t going to happen! My love is too strong for that. And you, my precious child, will always have a place in my heart. Always.”

This was just what the older brother needed to hear. 

And, it was just what the scribes and the Pharisees needed to hear.

Remember, they were the ones who Jesus told this story to. They had been grumbling that Jesus spent so much time with “sinners and tax collectors.” They were upset that he was spending so much time with people who were less than perfect.

Because, like the older brother, the scribes and Pharisees tried to be perfect, in order to earn God’s love.

Today, some of us are scribes and Pharisees, trying so hard to be perfect; and some of us are tax collectors and sinners, having already given up on ever being good enough.

But one thing we all have in common, is that God, our heavenly parent, the one who created us, will never stop loving us. 

Nothing you do or don’t do, nothing you accomplish or don’t accomplish - no matter how perfect you are, or think you are, or wish you were, or try to be - will ever separate you from God’s love.

Sermon: "Connected" (Luke 15: 1-10)

Bob Goff is an author who wrote a whole book full of stories about unreasonable, illogical, over-the-top love. The book is titled, Love Does.

The first story he tells is autobiographical. It takes place when he’s in high school.

As he describes it, he decided to quit high school and move to Yosemite, find some part-time work, and spend his days rock climbing. It was his dream, and he was going to make it a reality.

On his way out of town, he stopped to tell Randy, his youth leader who wasn’t much older than him. “You’re leaving right now?” Randy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Just a minute,” Randy said; “I need to check on something…”

Randy disappeared into the house, then reappeared with a backpack. He said, “Bob, I’m with you. You wouldn’t mind if I caught a ride with you?”

“Uh, sure…”

So, together, in Bob’s old VW, they drove to Yosemite. Once there, Bob realized he hadn’t arranged a place to stay; so he and Randy snuck into one of the platform tents set up at one of the pay-per-night campsites. The next morning he tried to find a job.

No luck. No one was hiring. He spent several days trying to find a job. He ran out of money.

Randy stayed with him. Eventually Bob said to Randy, “You know, you’ve been great coming with me, but I think what I’ll do is head back and finish up high school.”

Randy just said, “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

They drove back home.

When they arrived back at Randy’s house, Bob followed Randy in through the front door. Randy’s girlfriend was there, and on the floor were stacks of plates, wrapping paper, a coffeemaker, some glasses…Bob was confused; but then he realized: Randy and his girlfriend had just gotten married! When Bob had knocked on Randy’s door a few days ago, he had disrupted the very beginning of their marriage!

He felt terrible.

Why did Randy give up spending the first few days of marriage with his wife, and instead accompany Bob on a crazy trip to Yosemite, sneaking into the back of tents?

It was because Randy loved Bob.

It was a crazy, unreasonable thing to do, but love isn’t always reasonable. Love goes crazy sometimes. Love is extravagant, and the extravagance isn’t always logical.

It’s like a shepherd who has lost a sheep, one out of a hundred, and he leaves the 99 to go and search for the one that is lost. That in itself seems a bit unreasonable to me. But then, when he finds that one sheep, he calls together all his friends and neighbors. “Rejoice with me!” he said; and he threw a huge party. And what do you think was on the menu? It seems doubtful to me that he or any of his friends were vegetarian. I think they ate lamb.

That doesn’t even make sense, right? It’s ridiculous. It’s extravagant. It’s unreasonable. It’s over-the-top-crazy!

Love is crazy. It’s like a woman who lost a coin. She spent a great amount of time searching diligently for that coin; and when she found it, she was so happy, she called together her friends and neighbors for a party to celebrate. “Rejoice with me!” she said.

How much did she spend on that party? How many coins did that party cost? Does this even make sense?

No! Love doesn’t always make sense. Love goes too far. It is ridiculous. Extravagant. Unreasonable.

Luke tells a third story, about a lost son. The son leaves, and takes half his father’s fortune with him, which he promptly squandered away. He returned home in shame, yet his father threw him the greatest welcome home party you’ve ever seen.

The lost son’s brother was critical of the celebration – and rightly so. It doesn’t make sense. It’s ridiculous. Extravagant. Unreasonable. Illogical. Crazy. Over-the-top.

But that’s just how love is sometimes.

Have you seen the movie Parenthood with Steve Martin? Steve Martin plays Gil Buckman. His father, Frank, is played by Jason Robards. And then there is brother Larry, played by Tom Hulce.

Brother Larry is the irresponsible one. He’s always travelling, doesn’t keep in contact, and when he does show up, it’s because he needs money.

When I first saw the movie, many years ago, I thought: why does the father keep welcoming back brother Larry? Why does he keep giving his son money, when his son continues to act irresponsibly?

I guess… I guess I’m the older brother in the story of the lost son, questioning the display of a love that is too generous, too extravagant, too ridiculous. Reading the story of a shepherd who leaves 99 sheep to find one, then throws a big party to celebrate; or a woman who finds one coin and then throws a big, expensive party to celebrate; or a father who welcomes back his irresponsible, ungrateful son by throwing a big, expensive party… None of this has ever seemed logical to me.

Yet God has never given up on me, and God continues to work on me, and the older I get, the closer I get to understanding that kind of love.

Here is another example of love shown in a ridiculous, extravagant way. Jesus was full of God’s love, and he consistently demonstrated that love, especially to those who had known so little love in their lives. They were disconnected from society, pushed to the sides by the rulemakers and policy enforcers.

Most thought it wasn’t logical to show love to those at the bottom of society. It would be love that is wasted. After all, what could they give in return? You give them your love, and what do you get back?

But Jesus believed in the power of love so much, that he was willing to give his life for it. His life! That’s everything! Now that’s ridiculous and illogical! But he did it. His love was so complete, so extravagant, that he gave his life. He gave his all – everything he could possibly give; and 2,000 years later, the power of his love still gives life.

Jesus saw the connection. He couldn’t ignore or discount anyone, because God created us to live in connection: we are connected to one another, and connected to God. We are all one, in ways that we can’t even fully understand. We are one. We are connected. And love is what holds that connection together.

But so many forces leave us feeling disconnected. And we become lost sheep. Lost coins. Lost children.

We’re disconnected, but we have this longing to re-connect. And it’s a deep, desperate longing. The number one reason people use social media is to connect. Sometimes people go online searching for a relationship. Other times people go online, they post things about themselves, and all they want is for someone to say: “I hear you. I get it. I understand.”

Either way, they are searching for a connection.

Religion is supposed to connect. That’s what religion is all about. The word religion comes from re-ligio, which literally means “to reconnect.” That’s literally what the word means!

So religion that is done right is religion that connects people to God and to one another.

And the only way that connection is going to happen is through love. Radical, extravagant, over-the-top love.

We at Bixby Knolls Christian Church are on a journey toward that love. It would be foolish to claim that we have already arrived there, that we are perfect in love, that we perfectly embody the generous, radical, extravagant love Christ talks about.

But we’re working on it.

One of the things that’s helpful to us is having a mix of ages in our congregation. We’re not big, but we have people here representing every generation. Grandparents and great-grandparents, and grandchidren and great-grandchildren.

I think this helps us learn a lot about love. I think it helps us learn a lot about being connected. In just about every way that people gather in our society, we are separated by generation. Even some churches are like that.

But here, at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, the generations come together and connect.

That’s something I am thankful for on this Grandparents’ Day…

In addition to being Grandparents’ Day today, you probably know that this is also the 15^th anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. And since September 11, 2001, we’ve been at war. We’ve been fighting, somewhere in the world, every single day since. War has become the new normal.

Do you know what will really end terrorism in our world?

Not more bombs, more weapons, stronger defense, or more restrictive security measures.

What will end terrorism is love. What will end terrorism is making connections.

I don’t think it’s possible to wage war on someone with whom you’ve connected.

And to make those kinds of connections, we need to develop friendships, show hospitality, have conversations, demonstrate compassion – all those things that our faith teaches us to do.

We need to do that with each other, and also with strangers, people from foreign lands, people who speak different languages and practice different religions.

That’s what religion teaches us. It teaches us to re-connect.

We are trying to build those connections here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church. We’re trying to build bridges that connect, instead of walls that divide. We’re working on manifesting true religion: a religion that connects people to God and to one another.

If you are not formally connected with us here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, I would be happy to talk with you about that. I am an introvert – it’s not always easy for me to start conversations. But I am overjoyed anytime someone comes up to me and says, “tell me how to get involved,” or, “tell me how to become a member,” or, “tell me about baptism.” These are things that help connect you to the church.

I may not be very good at starting conversations, but if you ask me about things like this, at some point you’ll probably have to shut me up. Because as your pastor I really do want to help you make a connection with God. It is the most important connection you will ever make. It’s the connection that will help you find wholeness in the midst of this fragmented world.

So if you want to know more about finding a connection rooted in the most wonderful, extravagant, over-the-top love the world has ever known… let’s talk. Let’s connect.

Make a connection with us here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, and learn with us about God’s radical, extravagant, over-the-top-crazy kind of love.