A New Kind of Family

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The resurrection of Jesus planted the seed of God’s new creation kingdom “on earth as it is in heaven”, and now, his Spirit activates and empowers its growing and spreading in and through his people—those who will believe him—until the time when he returns to bring it to its full fruition. Last time we launched a new series looking at the invitation Jesus offers those who choose to walk with him in that kingdom. First and foremost, as we discussed in our last episode, Jesus invites us into a new way of seeing our Creator, Father God, which in turn, opens our eyes to see everything else differently as well. This new way of seeing is illustrated beautifully in one of Jesus’ most well-known parables—the story of a father and his family—The Parable of the Prodigal Son.

Before we dive into the parable again, let’s begin with what prompted Jesus to tell it in the first place. Luke chapter 15 opens like this: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming close to him to hear him. The Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them’” (Luke 15:1-2 WEB). The religious leaders were incensed that Jesus would welcome and accept “the wrong kind” of people—those they deemed “unclean”, “unworthy”, or “unacceptable”—those who in their opinion, God would most certainly reject. Jesus tells this parable to help his listeners “see” in a new way, to help them understand that he was calling them into a new kind of family.

Let’s return to the parable now, this time focusing our attention on the two sons. As you’ll recall, the younger son committed, what to the ancient Hebrews would have been an unspeakably dishonoring act. He asked for his inheritance before his father had passed away, which in essence, was akin to saying, “I wish you were already dead”. The son’s request would have been interpreted to mean, “I don’t need you; I don’t trust you; I don’t want to be a part of your family anymore; I want to go my own way; I’m better off on my own, without you”. One can only imagine what this must have sounded like to Jesus’ first-century listeners. Apart from the fact that in this culture and time, dishonoring your parents in this way was breaking a relational kinship bond, it was also a violation of the Mosaic Law. In fact, the violation was so severe, it was punishable by exile from the community or death by stoning (Leviticus 20:9, Deuteronomy 21:18-21).

Certainly, the father did not need to comply with this outrageous request. In fact, under the Law, he would have had every right to punish the son for even making it, but scandalously, this father honored his son’s request and divided his “wealth” between his sons. The word “wealth” in this passage is the word “bios” in Greek, which can mean “livelihood”, but it can also mean “life”. As we saw last time, this act already gives us great insight into what this father is like. This is a father who not only allows his children the free will to make choices, but also the freedom to experience the consequences of those choices; this is a father who is willing to give his “life” away for his children, even if they choose to reject him.

The parable goes on to tell us that the son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country. There, we’re told, he squandered all his father had given him in wasteful living. Soon after, the country where he was living experienced a severe famine and the son began to be in need, so he hired himself out to a citizen of that country who sent him into his fields to feed his pigs. Eventually, the son became so destitute, that he longed to eat the food the pigs were eating, but the story tells us, “No one was giving him anything” (Luke 15:16).

Let’s back up and consider these details for a moment. First of all, think about the symbolism inherent here. The implication is that the son wasted the “life” his father had given him. He had not stayed connected to the love and provision of his father; he had turned his back on his valued place and purpose in his family; and as a result, he was living a life devoid of meaning, value, and belonging. The son was “perishing” (the Greek word is “apollumi” which means “to die” but also “to be cut off”, or “to be lost”). He was starving both literally and figuratively. We see this described further as the parable continues. The story implies that the father’s house was a place of abundance and provision, even the hired workers had “more than enough bread”. But this distant country, while offering temporary pleasures at first, soon became a place of famine and scarcity. Even though the son was hired by the citizen as a worker, he was still starving. That suggests that he was more like a slave than a paid hired hand. And assuming he was a Jewish man, the son’s task of feeding the pigs would not only have been dishonoring, but it would also have been extremely dehumanizing. Pigs were considered “unclean” under Mosaic Law so tending them would have made the son “unclean” as well. This citizen was obviously neither respectful, nor compassionate, and to add insult to injury, we’re told that no one else in this place offered the son any kindness, compassion, or help either. Why do you suppose the son stayed in this uncaring, devaluing situation? Could it be that he felt he had no choice; that his past choices had determined his future and there was no hope of changing that; or that he held so much guilt and shame over his actions and who he had become, that he felt like he was getting what he deserved?

In any case, it’s at this point that the parable takes a turn. The story says the son “came to his senses” and remembered his home and his father. He remembered that unlike his current master, his father made sure his workers had “more than enough”, implying that they were respected, cared for, and treated with compassion. It’s interesting to note that some translations say the son “came to himself”. It’s an odd phrase, and there’s some debate over what it means. Perhaps, it means the son “repented”; that he began to “think differently” about himself, about his father, and about the home and family he had left behind; that he began to “think differently” about his life, the choices he had made, and the people he had hurt. In any event, the point is, once he “came to himself”, the son began composing words of apology to his father, and he made up his mind to return home.

Notice what’s implicit in the son’s decision. Even though he was certain he had lost his place in the family and no longer deserved to be thought of as a son, there must have been something in his heart—something he believed deep down about the nature and character of his father—that told him his father would not reject him or turn him over for punishment, but instead, would show him forgiveness, mercy, and compassion. There must have been something he remembered about his father, that overcame the fear of rejection or punishment and gave him hope—something that made him believe his father would take him back, even if it was only as a hired hand. So, trusting in that hope, he left the slave master and that heartless country behind, and set out for home.

We already know what happened next in the parable. As we learned last time, the father had not been harboring anger or resentment toward his son at all, but instead, he had been longing for his son’s return. Unbeknownst to the son, the father had already forgiven him and was watching and waiting in the hope that his son would “come to himself” and return to the family. When the father finally saw him coming, he ran down the road to meet him even though he was still “a long way off” and showered him with love and compassion before the son was able to utter one word of his apology speech. When the son was finally able to apologize and ask to be taken in as a hired hand, the father seemed to pay no attention to the request and instead, called for gifts of honor and value to be bestowed upon his son, and a feast to be prepared in his honor to celebrate his return. Even though the son had been lost, he had not been disowned; even though he thought himself to be “unworthy”, he had been freely forgiven and restored; and even though he had been unable to see it prior to his return, the son had never ceased to be a valued, beloved, child in his father’s eyes.

Now, remember why Jesus was telling this parable. He was being condemned by the religious leaders for feasting with “sinners”, many of whom found themselves precisely in the son’s situation. As a result of their choices, intentional or otherwise, they also were being devalued, dishonored, and marginalized by the society in which they lived, and they were “perishing”. They were seen as “unclean” and “unworthy” in the eyes of the religious leaders, the community, and perhaps, in their own eyes as well. Just like the son, they were “starving”, and no one was showing them any kindness, mercy, compassion, or respect. Until they met Jesus. He invited them to “think differently” about their lives—to “come to themselves”—to remember how valuable they were to God, and he reminded them of their Father’s forgiveness, his love for them, and his desire for them to return to him. As a result, those who had been far from home came near, they listened to Jesus, they took his words to heart and believed him, and because they opened their minds and hearts and received his healing love and his forgiveness, they were welcomed back into his family and their lives were transformed. They had been lost but now, they were found—now, they were home.

Just like the father in our parable, Jesus said these homecomings must be celebrated; lost children are being found; those who were perishing are “coming to themselves” and receiving new life; the broken, scattered family of God is being healed and restored; let the party begin!

But not everyone saw it that way. Let’s turn now to the elder brother in our parable. The story tells us that the firstborn son had been working in the field and heard the celebratory sounds, so he asked one of the servants what was going on. When he was told that his brother had come home and his father was throwing a party to celebrate his return to the family, the elder brother became angry. Instead of rejoicing at his brother’s homecoming, he was furious that his father had welcomed him back. He did not believe his brother deserved to be welcomed home, so he refused to go into the party.

The elder brother felt slighted and unappreciated. It’s clear that he held anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness toward his younger brother and apparently, he held hidden resentment toward his father as well. When the father came out to plead with him, the elder brother said, “Look! These many years I have worked like a slave for you, and I never disobeyed your commands. Yet you never gave me even a goat so that I could celebrate with my friends! But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your assets with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” (Luke 15:29-30 NET). Did you catch that, “this son of yours”? The father had not disowned the younger son, but his elder brother had. The firstborn son did not see his younger sibling as his “brother” anymore. Instead, he saw him as a rival, “unworthy” and “undeserving” of his place in the family because of his past mistakes. And not only that, it also seems as if the elder brother saw himself as a slave instead of a beloved son. How ironic that the younger brother had been a slave and now was welcomed home as a son, while the elder brother who had always been a son, saw himself as a slave. All this time, he had been working to earn his father’s love, not realizing that he already had it. In the elder brother’s mind, the father’s acceptance of the younger brother was unjust and unfair; he had been slaving, his brother had been slacking; he deserved the party, his brother did not.

It's at this point in the parable that the father stepped in to explain. “‘My son’, the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found’” (Luke 15:31-32 NIV). The sad fact is, that even though the elder brother had remained at home in the father’s love, care, and provision, he was just as “lost” and “starving” as his younger brother had been. Instead of living in the father’s love and abundance that had always been his (remember, everything the father had was his), he believed the father’s love was finite, conditional, and must be earned. He had failed to recognize and receive his father’s abundant, unconditional, unending love for himself, so he was unable to rejoice and be happy for his brother when he saw the father’s love being freely and abundantly poured out on him.

Interestingly, Jesus chose to end the parable there. His listeners in the first century were left to wonder whether the elder brother ever “came to himself”, joined the family, and went into the feast, just as we are left wondering today. Perhaps that was Jesus’ point; perhaps we are meant to put ourselves in the place of these brothers and consider what we would do.

Now, of course, this parable had a very specific meaning to Jesus’ listeners in the context of what was happening in the religious system of the first century. But if we widen our gaze, we can also see that the younger son’s story is humanity’s story as well. Think back to that symbolic Genesis 3 story, in which humanity’s choice to mistrust our Father, waste the “life” he had given us, and turn our backs on our purpose and place in his family, led us to a place of “famine” and “scarcity”. Just like the younger son, we too were enslaved and “perishing” in a darkened land that devalues, dishonors, and dehumanizes. But when we trust Jesus and “come to ourselves”, our eyes are opened to see that our Father has not been harboring anger and resentment against us, but instead, he has been longing to reconcile, heal, and restore his family; he has been waiting for his children to return to him, no matter who we are or what we’ve done. When we “come to ourselves” we can finally be set free and return home; we can see our Father running to meet us and experience his embrace as he lavishes his unconditional love and forgiveness upon us; we can finally see ourselves as our Father has always seen us—as beloved image-bearing children. And if we will receive his love and accept his invitation, just like the younger son, we too can enter in and join him in the homecoming celebration.

But Jesus’ parable challenges us to put ourselves in the elder brother’s place as well. Certainly, the religious leaders who confronted Jesus knew that they were the “elder brothers” in this story, but Scripture is full of stories about others who were angry or resentful when God showed acceptance and blessing to their “undeserving” brothers, or when he promised to include “outsiders” in his family. Jesus repeatedly told stories about welcoming the “unworthy” and “undeserving” into the party, while those who saw them that way were left outside. These stories are still relevant to us today. When we understand that our Creator, Father God intended for all his image-bearing children to have a purpose and place in his family, even if they don’t know it yet or choose to reject it; when we realize that our Father is welcoming those who we have deemed “undeserving”—those who look different from us; those who hold different viewpoints from our own; those who love differently; those who are not in our tribe or our nation; those who are “foreigners”, “immigrants”, or “outsiders”—and he is inviting them to the party, how will we respond? Will we see them as rivals, competitors, undeserving sinners, or enemies? Or will we see them as fellow brothers and sisters and welcome them into the family?

Jesus invites us to see “family” in a new way. He insists that in his new creation kingdom, all who will believe him and trust his Father, will be invited to the celebration and welcomed back to his family no matter their race, their gender identity, their sexual orientation, their ethnicity, their physical makeup, or their status in society (Mark 3:35, John 6:38-39, Luke 11:13, John 3:16, 5:24, Galatians 3:28). We don’t get to decide who is welcome in God’s family. We don’t get to decide who can come to the party. Just as in our parable, our Father invites us to rejoice and celebrate with him but he leaves the choice to us. Will we respond like the elder brother and stand outside in indignation because of who has been invited, or worse yet, will we try to block the way and prevent those who have been invited from entering? Or will we trust our Father, rejoice over his guestlist, fling open the doors, and join in the celebration?