Last weekend I was asked to speak at a church on the story of the Prodigal Son.
It’s a fantastic parable, but context is critical.
Jesus is apparently at a party where there’s a good number of tax collectors—whom nobody liked—and some colorful characters not known to have great character. The religious leaders mutter to one another, questioning why Jesus would befriend any of those types of people; it makes him—and us by association—look bad.
The parable actually followed two stories of lost things being found.
The first is the shepherd with a hundred sheep. When one of them is missing, he leaves the ninety-nine behind and searches for it until he finds it. He carries it home, calls his friends and neighbors, and says, “Let’s have a serious party! I found my valuable sheep!”
Then he adds something curiously interesting considering his audience of religious leaders: he says there’s more rejoicing in the spiritual realm when someone far away from God turns toward Him than all the ninety-nine righteous people who don’t need to. But the implication was: if you’re upset about who I’m hanging out with and telling these stories to, you’re not included in the “ninety-nine righteous” demographic because you don’t have a clue about God’s character and who He really is. I can imagine the religious leaders feeling uncomfortable because they weren’t really looking for people far away from God. Having a missionary mindset wasn’t in their wheelhouse; they were more moral policemen and guardians of the flock than a
search-and-rescue team.
He then tells a second story about a woman who loses one of ten silver coins. This is again a seriously valuable loss. She turns on all the lights, gets on her hands and knees, and searches for the coin until she finds it. And like the first story, she’s so excited she calls her friends and neighbors and says, “Party with me! I found my lost coin!”
And he repeats his line about “sinners” finding God.
Then he tells his magnum opus: the Prodigal Son story. You know the gist: the younger of two brothers disses his father and essentially says, “You’re dead to me, Dad. I want my inheritance now.” He drives away in his Lamborghini to the city and ends up snorting up his inheritance, eventually finding himself homeless and hungry, slopping pigs for minimum wage and eating their food—and you know the Jewish sensibilities on pork: Jesus is pushing the envelope here. The son comes to his senses and decides to beg for forgiveness and ask for any kind of job from his father. He walks to his home where his dad surprisingly embraces him before he can finish his rehearsed speech. And, of course, throws a celebratory party.
Now the story is really uncomfortable. This isn’t just a sheep wandering off—this is a disrespectful young fool making willfully bad, self-centered decisions. Most people would say, “You made your bed…now lie in it!”—and make him realize the embarrassment and shame he brought to his father. Or at the very least some probation.
Face it: We want justice.
Even more, he broke one of God’s Top Ten commandments: Honor your parents…the one commandment that even has a promise: so that you might live longer.
Jesus has gone from sheep…to coins…and now humanized it big-time. It’s not just about God looking for people, it’s about God’s heart, His emotion, and passion…the value He places on people lost in life’s shuffle.
And maybe how He wants us contemporary religious leaders to think about them.
Perhaps, just perhaps, we’re shockingly not in the ninety-nine until we do.
Dave Workman | The Elemental Group
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