A Story in Two Acts
We’re looking again today at one of the most famous stories in the Bible, what’s often called the parable of the prodigal son, in Luke 15. There’s a problem with this designation, however, because Jesus’ parable is actually about two sons, not one (v. 11).
The parable of the two lost sons has two Acts. Act 1 is about a lost younger brother. Act 2 is about a lost older brother. Last week, we looked at each Act and considered who the True Older Brother is. Today, we’re going to look at this parable again and see how Jesus redefines sin, redefines lostness, and redefines hope.
These reflections, and many from last week as well, are largely based on Tim Keller’s book The Prodigal God.[1] He’s shaped my thinking on this parable more than anyone else, and I highly recommend his book to you.
Redefining Sin
First, let’s consider how Jesus redefines sin. The two brother’s hearts are more alike than they first appear.
What did the younger brother want in life? He wanted to make his own decisions and get out from under his father’s supervision. He wanted complete control of his portion of his father’s wealth, so he defied his father and declared himself to be completely independent.
What did the older son most want in life? The same thing as his brother. He was just as resentful of the father as his brother. He also wanted the father’s stuff more than the father himself. But while the younger brother ran far away, the older brother stayed close and “never disobeyed” (v. 29). This was his way of getting control. His demand was, “I’ve never disobeyed you, so you need to do what I want you to do.”
The two brothers had the same heart. Both resented the father’s authority and wanted to get out from under it. Each wanted to tell the father what to do, ie. each one rebelled. One rebelled by being very bad and the other by being very good. But both were alienated from the heart of their father.
Do you see what Jesus is showing us? “Neither son loved the father for himself. They were both using the father for their own self-centered ends rather than loving, enjoying, and serving him for his own sake. This means that you can rebel against God and be alienated from him either by breaking his rules or by keeping all of them diligently.”[2]
A Deeper Understanding of Sin
Jesus is helping us see that sin is far more than failing to keep God’s rules, that the essence of sin is replacing God’s authority with our own. If like the older brother, you think God should bless you because you’ve worked hard to obey him and been a good person, “then Jesus may be your helper, your example, even your inspiration, but he is not your Savior. You are serving as your own Savior.”[3] You can actually avoid Jesus as Savior by keeping all the rules.
Both sons were using the father in different ways to get the things their hearts really wanted. They weren’t loving the father. It was his wealth not his love that they thought would make them happy and fulfilled.
Do you see Jesus’ radical redefinition of what’s wrong with us? We think sin is merely breaking a list of rules, but Jesus shows us a man who’s kept all the rules but is just as lost as someone who’s broken all of them. Why is this? Because the essence of sin is putting yourself in the place of God as Savior and Lord. Like the two lost sons, we seek to displace the authority of God in our lives. This radical self-centeredness of the human heart is the root of all evil in the world.[4]
Both Wrong; Both Loved
Notice that Jesus doesn’t divide the world into moral good guys and immoral bad guys. He says everyone is trying to save themselves, just in different ways. He says everyone is using God to get control for themselves. When a newspaper asked the question, “What’s wrong with the world?, the Catholic writer G. K. Chesterton wrote a response, “Dear sirs: I am. Sincerely Yours, G. K. Chesterton.”[5] This is the attitude of someone who truly understands Jesus’ message.
But the amazing thing is that, though both sons are wrong, the father goes out to both of them! The parable shows us that in the gospel, though we’re all wrong, we’re all loved.
However, even though both sons are loved, the story doesn’t end on the same note for each. One is saved and restored to a right relationship with the father, and one is not. Why is this? Because though both approaches to God are equally wrong, they aren’t equally dangerous.
The irony of the parable is that though the younger brother literally left the father and the older brother stayed home, the older brother was actually more distant and alienated from the father than his brother. Why? Because he was blind to his true condition. He would’ve been horribly offended by the suggestion that he was rebelling against his father’s authority and love, but he was. When you suggest that a religious person’s relationship with God isn’t right, they say, “How dare you say that! I’m at church all the time, play by the rules, treat people nicely, and work hard.” But with this parable, Jesus says, “It doesn’t matter.” An older brother Pharisee is blind to what’s going on in their heart, so they’re in a much more spiritually desperate condition.
Redefining Lostness
Second, let’s consider how Jesus redefines lostness. The metaphor of being “lost” and then “found” is how Jesus is explaining sin and salvation in Luke 15 (vv. 6, 9, 24, 32). What does it mean to be spiritually lost? The parable shows us that the younger brother’s lostness is when he ends up in the pigpen. His indulgent life led to a complete collapse. When he realizes he’s lost his way, he returns home to start over.
But, as I’ve said, the climax of the parable is the older brother. With him, Jesus wants us to see a more subtle but no less devastating form of lostness. Let’s look at this “older-brother lostness” more closely. What does an older brother look like?
Anger and Superiority
The first sign that you have an older brother spirit is that when life doesn’t go the way you want, you aren’t just sad but deeply angry and bitter. This is what happened with the older brother (v. 28). Because older brothers believe God owes them a good life if they keep the rules, they get really upset when things don’t go the way they want. Their pursuit of a good life wasn’t to please God but was rather a calculated way to control their environment.
Another sign we have an older brother spirit is a strong sense of our own superiority. Notice how the older brother points out how much better he is than his brother (v. 30). He won’t even own his brother as a brother, “this son of yours.”
Older brothers pride themselves on being smart and savvy, hard-working, moral, members of an elite family, and even extremely religious. This leads to a consistent attitude of comparison and competition. Comparing themselves with others is how older brothers achieve their sense of significance. Because they’re not resting in God’s love for them because of what Jesus has done, they’re radically insecure persons, an insecurity that reveals itself in pride, defensiveness, and consistent criticism of others.
The older brother also has an unforgiving and judgmental spirit. They can’t forgive the younger brother for the ways they’ve disgraced the family name or diminished the family wealth. Notice that the older brother highlights that his younger brother has been with prostitutes (v. 30). He’s saying, “I’d never do anything as bad as that!” because he doesn’t understand that he’s just as much a sinner as his brother. He can’t forgive his brother as long as he feels superior to him.
If the older brother would’ve known his own heart and seen how he’s just as self-centered and was also grieving his father in his own way, he would’ve been able to forgive his younger brother. But older brothers don’t see themselves that way.
Slavishness and Emptiness
Another sign that we have an older-brother spirit is joyless, fear-based compliance. The older brother boasts of his obedience, but his underlying motivation slips out when he says in verse 29, “Look, I have been slaving many years for you” (CSB). The word “slave” tells us he feels like he’s being forced or pushed rather than drawn and attracted. A slave works out of fear, a fear of consequences if you don’t do what you’re supposed to do. At root, the older brother is living a good life out of fear, not out of joy or love. Older brother obedience is a slavish, begrudging compliance to the letter of the law, not out of love for God or others
This means that older brothers are only moral for their own benefit. They may be kind or even generous, but they’re doing it so God will bless them or so they can be seen as virtuous persons. Keller illustrates this with a story:
“Once upon a time there was a gardener who grew an enormous carrot. So he took it to his king and said, ‘My lord, this is the greatest carrot I’ve ever grown or ever will grow. Therefore I want to present it to you as a token of my love and respect for you.’ The king was touched and discerned the man’s heart, so as he turned to go the king said, ‘Wait! You are clearly a good steward of the earth. I own a plot of land right next to yours. I want to give it to you freely as a gift so you can garden it all.’ And the gardener was amazed and delighted and went home rejoicing. But there was a nobleman at the king’s court who overheard all this. And he said, ‘My! If that is what you get for a carrot – what if you gave the king something better?’ So the next day the nobleman came before the king and he was leading a handsome black stallion. He bowed low and said, ‘My lord, I breed horses and this is the greatest horse I’ve ever bred or ever will. Therefore I want to present it to you as a token of my love and respect for you.’ But the king discerned his heart and said thank you, and took the horse and merely dismissed him. The nobleman was perplexed. So the king said, ‘Let me explain. That gardener was giving me the carrot, but you were giving yourself the horse.’”[6]
Older brothers do good to others but not out of love for God or love for others, but for themselves.
The last sign of an older-brother spirit is a lack of assurance of the father’s love. Look again at what the older brother says in verse 29. “You never threw me a party.” He’s been busy trying to earn his father’s love and controlling him through his goodness yet he’s still not sure that his father loves him. When you’re an older brother, you’re not sure God loves and delights in you.
Signs of this lack of assurance are, again, when something goes wrong in your life, you wonder if it’s because you aren’t living a good enough life. Another sign is that criticism from others doesn’t just hurt your feelings but devastates you. You need the approval of others because your sense of God’s love for you has no real power in your life. Another sign is irresolvable guilt. When you sin, you’ll torment yourself for a long time even after you’ve repented. Because you’re not sure you’ve repented enough, you’ll keep beating yourself up over what you did.
The clearest sign of this lack of assurance is a dry prayer life. You may be diligent in prayer, but there’s no wonder, no awe, no intimacy or delight in conversation with God. Keller says it like this:
“Think of three kinds of people – a business associate you don’t really like, a friend you enjoy doing things with, and someone you are in love with, and who is in love with you. Your conversation with the business associate will be quite goal-oriented. You won’t be interested in chitchat. With your friend you may open your heart about some of the problems you are having. But with your lover you will sense a strong impulse to speak about what you find beautiful about him or her. These three kinds of discourse are analogous to forms of prayer that have been called ‘petition,’ ‘confession,’ and ‘adoration.’ The deeper the love relationship, the more the conversation heads toward the personal, and toward affirmation and praise.”[7]
Older brothers’ prayer lives are focused on reciting needs and wants, not joy and praise. In fact, many older brothers don’t have much of a prayer life at all until things start not going well, then they start praying a lot until things get better again. This reveals that their main goal in prayer is to control their environment, not enjoying a relationship with a God who loves them.
Like the younger brother’s path, the older brother’s path is a destructive one. It leads to harm and hurt for them and those around them. And it ultimately leads to eternal separation from the father.
The two spiritual paths Jesus shows us in this parable are both mistaken and he wants us to see a radically different approach. He wants us to come to him as the True Older Brother who left his home to come and find us and bring us home.
Redefining Hope
Finally, let’s consider how Jesus’ parable redefines our hope. When we read Luke 15 in the context of the whole Bible, we realize that Jesus is retelling the story of the human race, the story of exile and homecoming. The younger brother goes away “into a far country” (v. 13) looking for a better life but is disappointed. He longs for home, remembering how good it was to be in his father’s house. And so do we all.
“Home” has a powerful influence in our lives. People spend billions each year visiting where they grew up. Kids who grow up without a place to belong develop an incapacity for attachment as adults. We all have memories of people, places, and times where we felt we were truly home. But when we visit those people or places now, we often leave disappointed.
Keller describes it like this, “Home, then, is a powerful but elusive concept. The strong feelings that surround it reveal some deep longing within us for a place that absolutely fits and suits us, where we can be, or perhaps find, our true selves. Yet it seems that no real place or actual family ever satisfies these yearnings, though many situations arouse them.”[8]
There’s a sense in which we’re all like the younger brother. We’re all exiles longing for home, always traveling but never arriving. The houses and families we live in are like inns along the way, but they aren’t home. “Home continues to evade us.”[9]
Why is “home” such a powerful yet elusive reality for us? Because traces of the larger story of the whole world live in our souls. We all feel like exiles because, though we were created to live in the Garden of God enjoying his infinite beauty and love, we chafed at his authority and wanted to live without his interference, so we turned away from him and became alienated from him. We lost our home for the same reason the younger brother lost his. And the result was exile.
The Bible says we’ve been wandering around as spiritual exiles ever since. We’re living in a world that no longer fits our deepest longings. We long to “run and not be weary,” but our bodies get tired, sick, diseased, and die. We long for love that lasts, but all our relationships are “subject to the inevitable entropy of time.”[10] Death takes from us all those we love, then takes us from those we love. We long to make a difference in the world through our work, but we’re met with endless frustrations. We never seem to attain our highest hopes and dreams. We work hard to re-create the home we’ve lost, but in the end, the Bible says, it only exists in the presence of the Father from whom we’ve run away.
The theme of exile and return is all over the Bible. Keller says, “The message of the Bible is that the human race is a band of exiles trying to come home.”[11] The parable Jesus tells in Luke 15 is therefore about everyone one of us. We’re all lost, far from the father, and need to come home.
The Difficulty of Return
The younger brother knows he needs to return home. But he also knows that his acceptance back at home isn’t inevitable. Why? Because his sins have created a barrier between he and his father and he isn’t sure if that wall can be breached. In the same way, the Bible shows us how high the barriers are for us to overcome if we’re to return home.
Despite all the ways the Lord rescued the Israelites throughout their history, they continued to be oppressed by one world power after another. They never achieved the final homecoming they longed for. They were oppressed from without, but also from within. There was constant conflict in their hearts. They were stuck in pride and selfishness and sin. They needed a radical change inside of them.
But they also needed a radical change outside of them. They (and we) live in a fallen world. We weren’t made for a world full of disease, decay, and death. The world as it currently is is not the home we were made for. So a final homecoming must involve a radical change of the heart but also a radical change of the world we live in.
How is this possible? When Jesus arrived, many were looking for a political and national liberation for Israel. They prayed for a Messiah to come to liberate them and lead them to victory. Then Jesus came saying, “The kingdom of God is at hand” (Mk. 1:15). People loved listening to him and seeing his miracles. But he didn’t fit their expectations and didn’t do what they wanted him to do. So eventually he was crucified outside the city gate, a symbol of rejection and exile by the community. And as he died, he said, “My God, my God, why have you forsake me?” (Mt. 27:46). On the cross, Jesus was desperate for his Father, for home.
What was happening in that moment wasn’t what people expected. They thought the Messiah would come and deliver one nation from political oppression. But Jesus came to save all of us from sin, evil, and death itself. He came to bring the human race home.
He came and experienced the exile we deserve. He was expelled from the presence of the Father. He was cast out into the darkness, experiencing spiritual alienation for us, in our place, to bring us into our true home.
The Feast at the End of History
Jesus not only died, but rose from the grave on the third day. He broke the power of death (Heb. 2:14, Acts 2:24). His death paid the penalty for our sin and his resurrection won us the victory over the forces of death, decay, and disorder that keep us from our true home.
And someday he’ll return to make that victory complete. Isaiah says, “Your God will come…he will come to save you. Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf be unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. The ransomed of the Lord will return, they will enter Zion with singing. Everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away” (35:4-6, 10).
The story of the prodigal son ends the same way the Bible ends, with a feast. In Revelation 19, there’s “the marriage supper of the Lamb.” This feast happens in the New Jerusalem that comes down from heaven and fills the earth (Rev. 21-22). God lives in this city, and the tree of life is there (22:2). This means that the earth has become like the Garden of God again. Death and decay are gone and nations aren’t at war. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain – for the old order of things has passed away” (21:4).
This means that our future isn’t some impersonal form of consciousness. We won’t be floating through the air on clouds. Rather, we’ll be eating, drinking, laughing, singing, embracing, and dancing in the kingdom of God in degrees of glory and joy we can’t comprehend now. We’ll no longer be always wandering but never arriving. We will be finally home.
[1]Timothy Keller, The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 2008).
[2]Ibid., 42.
[3]Ibid., 44.
[4]Ibid., 68.
[5]Quoted in Ibid., 53.
[6]Ibid., 69-70.
[7]Ibid., 73.
[8]Ibid., 103.
[9]Ibid.
[10]Ibid., 108.
[11]Ibid., 109.