If I have a favorite text from which to preach it is the story of the loving Father and his two lost boys. We know this as the parable of the Prodigal Son, but most have come to understand that it's mostly about the father, and about his two boys who each missed the point of the Father's love, though in very different ways. My understanding of this story has been profoundly impacted by Henri Nouwen's "Return of the Prodigal." If there's still anyone out there who hasn't read it I encourage you to do so.
Nouwen and others help us to understand this as the story of what Brennan Manning has called the "relentless tenderness" of Jesus shown through the life and love of the Father. But, as I reread the story this week in preparation for what will be my first message at Quesqueya Chapel in Haiti I was impressed by importance of something I'd made little of in the past, the Prodigal's confession. I must confess (Theyt tell me this is good for the soul,) that I've even poked fun at the boy for "practicing a speech that no one wanted to hear." Indeed, as he practices and then recites his confession to his Father the Father seems to brush it aside in his excitement as he lavishes gifts and glory on his son who "once was dead, but not is alive."
But I've been wrong about this. The boy's confession, and the conviction that gave rise to it are an essential part of the story. In fact, without them there is no story. In our efforts to tell people about the unconditional love of the Father from whom they feel so estranged, we have often forgotten to tell them that the reason they are estranged, the reason they can't feel the father's love, is that they have sinned. And we forget to tell them that "sin separates us from God." We've forgotten that sin is the thing, has always been the thing, that breaks relationship both with God and with one another. And when we forget to tell this part of the story we also neglect to tell folks (or to remind ourselves) that relationship is never healed by pretending that sin doesn't matter. Relationship is healed in the process of confession and forgiveness. Yes, it was the father's unconditional love that placed the robe and the ring on the shoulders and hand of the broken and dirty boy-come-home, but it was the Spirit's work in "bringing him to his senses" and his honest response, "I have sinned and I am not worthy" that became the paving stones on the road home to the Father's embrace.
I must never forget that it is sin, acting against love, that breaks relationship, and that reconciliation begins not in denying or ignoring that fact, but in open acceptance of what I have done, and of the damage it has caused.
This puts the story of the "Older brother" in a different light for me as well. I'm sure there's more to learn and understand here, but, for now I'm just pondering the "first person" statements of these two boys. The prodigal comes to the father and says simply, "I've sinned." The Older boy, the one who stayed home looks the father in the eye and says "I've served."
I'm pretty sure that, at some level, "serving" matters. Today I'm thinking that confession matters even more.
It seems to me that in our humanness we have a lot of trouble with balance. Serving is Christlike. Confession is commanded. We go astray when we don't consider the integration of the two. I have come to believe that BALANCE is a good overall mantra for many areas of life. Thanks for your wise words to us, again, Gene! I LOVE YOU! Sure wish I could attend "your" church this Sunday!
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