Two Lost Sons and One Lavish Father
Introduction: The Grumbling Orthodox
We must always begin by setting the table. A parable from Jesus is never a free floating, inspirational story for us to decorate our tea towels with. It is a precision guided missile, aimed directly at a particular kind of hard heartedness. And in this case, the target is clearly marked. The chapter begins with the tax collectors and sinners, the riff raff, drawing near to Jesus. And in response, the Pharisees and scribes, the religious establishment, began to grumble. They grumbled because Jesus received sinners and, to their horror, even ate with them. This was a breach of their entire religious system, which was built on separation and earned merit.
So Jesus tells three parables, one right after another. The lost sheep, the lost coin, and this, the towering parable of the two lost sons. This story is not primarily about the prodigal. It is an answer to the grumbling of the older brothers who were standing right in front of Jesus. It is a story designed to show that there are two ways to be lost. You can be lost in the far country of rebellion, debauchery, and licentiousness. Or you can be lost in the front yard of the father's house, slaving away in the field, with a heart full of bitterness, pride, and self righteousness. Both sons are lost. Both are alienated from the father's heart. And the central point of the story is the shocking, scandalous, and glorious nature of the father's grace, which confounds the logic of both the rebel and the religionist.
This parable is a mirror. As we look into it, we will find ourselves. The question is not whether you are in the story, but where. Are you the son who ran away to the pigs, or are you the son who stayed home with the poison?
The Text
And He said, “A man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.’ So he divided his wealth between them. And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate living recklessly. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he was desiring to be fed with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will rise up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.” ’ So he rose up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet, and bring the fattened calf, slaughter it, and let us eat and celebrate, for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate.
Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. And summoning one of the servants, he began inquiring what these things could be. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he became angry and was not wanting to go in, and his father came out and began pleading with him. But he answered and said to his father, ‘Look! For so many years I have been serving you and never have I neglected a command of yours. And yet never have you given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.’ And he said to him, ‘Child, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and is alive, and was lost and has been found.’
(Luke 15:11-32 LSB)
The Anatomy of Rebellion (vv. 11-16)
The younger son's request is breathtaking in its insolence.
"Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me." (Luke 15:12)
In that culture, this was the equivalent of saying, "Father, I wish you were dead." The inheritance was given upon the death of the father. This son wants the father's possessions, but not the father. He wants the benefits of the family covenant without the relationship. This is the very heart of sin. We want God's world, His air, His food, His gifts, but we do not want God. We want to be our own gods, to spend His capital on our own lusts. And notice the father's response. He gives it to him. God, in His sovereignty, often gives rebels the rope they demand, and they are strangely eager to hang themselves with it.
The son journeys to a "distant country." This is the country of autonomy, the land of "no father." And there, he squanders his estate. The word for "recklessly" is the word from which we get "prodigal." It means to live without restraint, to scatter what was given. This is what sin does. It takes the glorious capital of a life created in God's image and scatters it in the mud. And the inevitable result is ruin. He spent everything, a famine hit, and he became impoverished. Sin always overpromises and underdelivers. It promises a throne and gives you a pigsty.
His degradation is total. He, a Jew, hires himself out to feed swine, the most unclean of animals. He is so destitute that he longs to eat the carob pods the pigs were eating. This is the endpoint of rebellion. It promises liberation and delivers the most debased form of slavery. "And no one was giving anything to him." The world that promises you everything will, in the end, give you nothing. When you have nothing left to offer, the party is over.
The Grammar of Repentance (vv. 17-19)
The turning point comes in verse 17.
"But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger!'" (Luke 15:17 LSB)
This is not modern therapy. "Coming to himself" is not an act of self discovery. It is the return of sanity. To be in sin is to be insane. It is to live in a fantasy world where you are the center and God is an inconvenience. Repentance is waking up from this drunken stupor and seeing reality for what it is. He sees the goodness of his father's house contrasted with the misery of his rebellion. This is the beginning of wisdom.
But his repentance is not just regret over his circumstances. It is a deeply theological realization. Look at his planned confession: "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before you." He gets the order right. All sin is ultimately vertical. David understood this after his sin with Bathsheba: "Against You, You only, have I sinned" (Psalm 51:4). The son understands that his rebellion was an assault on the divine order, and only secondarily an offense against his earthly father. He then acknowledges his complete unworthiness. "I am no longer worthy to be called your son." This is not false modesty. It is a statement of fact. He has repudiated his sonship. He has no claim, no right, no standing. His proposal to be a hired man is not a clever strategy to get back in the house. It is the honest plea of a broken man who knows he deserves nothing.
The Outrageous Grace of the Father (vv. 20-24)
As the son heads home, rehearsing his speech, the story takes a shocking turn.
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him." (Luke 15:20 LSB)
The father was watching. He was waiting. This is a picture of God's prevenient grace, His seeking love that pursues us before we ever think to pursue Him. And then the father does something scandalous. He ran. An elderly, dignified patriarch in that culture would never, ever run. To do so, he would have to hitch up his robes, exposing his legs, which was considered a great shame. The father casts his dignity to the wind. He absorbs the shame himself in his haste to get to his son. This is a stunning picture of the cross, where God the Father, in the person of His Son, absorbed all our shame to bring us home.
The son begins his confession, but the father cuts him off. He gets out the part about sinning against heaven and his father, but he never gets to the part about becoming a hired man. The father will not hear of it. Grace does not negotiate. It does not allow us to bargain our way down to a lesser status. Instead, the father issues a torrent of commands. "Quickly bring out the best robe... put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet." These are not sentimental gestures. They are objective declarations of status. The best robe covers his pigsty filth and signifies honor. The ring restores his authority as a son in the household. The sandals are the mark of a son, not a slave, as slaves went barefoot. The father is not just forgiving him; he is fully and publicly reinstating him to his position as a son.
And then comes the feast. "Bring the fattened calf." This was not for a regular meal. This was for a massive celebration. And the reason is given: "for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found." This is the language of resurrection. This is the gospel. We were dead in our trespasses and sins, and God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive together with Christ.
The Stench of Self-Righteousness (vv. 25-32)
Just as the party starts, Jesus turns his attention to the Pharisees in the audience.
"But he became angry and was not wanting to go in..." (Luke 15:28 LSB)
The older brother represents the religious legalist. He has been dutiful, obedient, and hard working. By all external measures, he is the good son. But the sound of celebration for his brother's return exposes the rotten core of his heart. His obedience was not born of love for the father, but of a slavish desire to earn the father's favor and build up a moral resume.
His speech to his father drips with self pity and accusation. "Look! For so many years I have been serving you..." The word is "slaving." He saw his relationship with his father as a transaction, not a communion. "Never have I neglected a command of yours. And yet never have you given me a young goat..." He kept a meticulous record of his obedience and his father's perceived stinginess. He was good in order to get things from the father. When the father gives the greatest gift, the fattened calf, to the son who deserved nothing, the older brother's entire world of merit and reward collapses. Grace is offensive to the proud.
Notice how he distances himself from his brother: "But when this son of yours came..." He cannot even call him his brother. The father gently corrects him, "this brother of yours." The father's plea is tender. "Child, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." The older son had access to all the father's blessings the entire time. He could have had a goat anytime he wanted. But he was too busy trying to earn what was already his by right of sonship to ever enjoy it. He was lost in his performance, alienated from the father's heart, right there in the front yard.
"But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and is alive, and was lost and has been found." (Luke 15:32 LSB)
The father explains the logic of the gospel. The reason for the party is resurrection. This is not about fairness; it is about life from the dead. The self righteous cannot rejoice at the repentance of a sinner because it invalidates their own system of earning. But heaven throws a party.
Conclusion: Come to the Party
The parable ends abruptly. The older son is left standing outside, pleading with his father. We are not told if he ever went in. This is because Jesus is leaving the invitation open to the Pharisees standing before Him. And He leaves it open to us.
There are two ways to be lost, and both are forms of rebellion against the father. The younger son's rebellion is obvious. The older son's rebellion is subtle, respectable, and far more deceptive. Both sons wanted to use the father for their own ends. The younger son wanted his stuff for a life of indulgence. The older son wanted his stuff for a life of control and moral superiority. Neither of them simply wanted the father.
The gospel of grace is an offense to both. To the prodigal, it says your sin is a stench, a living death that requires resurrection, but the Father is willing to run in shame to bring you home. To the older brother, it says your righteousness is a pile of filthy rags, your slavish work earns you nothing, and you must abandon your ledger and come into the party as a beggar, just like your brother.
The only way into the feast is to abandon your own strategy for happiness, whether it be the strategy of rule breaking or rule keeping, and to fall into the arms of a Father whose love is not earned, but lavished. The question the parable leaves us with is this: Are you outside the house, grumbling with the Pharisees, or are you inside, celebrating the resurrection of the dead?