Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Sermon for Lent 4: "Overwhelming Grace"







+ Lent 4 – March 31, 2019 +
Beautiful Savior Lutheran, Milton
Series C: Isaiah 12; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Image result for the prodigal son

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There’s a familiar pattern in many of our favorite stories. Jean Val Jean ,the thief  in Les Miserables, later ends up caring for Cosette after being forgiven. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are both raised from the curse of a death-like sleep by love. One way or another these are all death and resurrection stories.

The same is true of Jesus’ familiar parable of the prodigal son. It’s a magnificent story of God’s overwhelming, abundant, mercy and gracious love in Jesus’ death and resurrection for us. It’s a death and resurrection story through and through.

“There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ 

This story begins with a death. In fact, this is the first of three deaths in this parable. The father drops legally dead. For this is exactly what this younger son is asking his father to do when he requests his share of his father’s property, literally in Greek his “bios” and “substance”; his life, living, his being. 

Shockingly, the father doesn’t argue. He divided his property between his two sons.His younger son says, “I wish you were dead. Give me what’s coming to me and I’ll be off.”  And that’s exactly what happens. He quits the family business. Breaks his relationship. And leaves home for a far-off country. 

It is there in this far off country where the second death of this parable occurs, at least the beginnings of it. After only a few days away from home his inheritance is gone. Every last shekel. Spent. Wasted. “Squandered on reckless living.” Wine? Women? Gambling? We don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Whatever the details, the younger son finally wakes up dead. A Jewish boy, reduced to the unclean indignity and humility of slopping pigs for a local farmer, he comes to himself and realizes that whatever life he had is over. Staring at the hog trough he looks at his life and finds nothing. 

‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! 

Not knowing what to do or where to go, he goes back to the only place he knows. Home. This is a great picture of repentance. Repentance is returning home where we belong. We’ve been away in a far country. We stink. We’re broke. We’re hungry. Alone. We want to be home again. In our Father’s house, where we belong.

Ironically, even as the prodigal son stares death in the face, he fails to realize that he’s dead. He’s stuck on bookkeeping, laws, and rules. He figures he can make a deal with his father. Work his way back in his good graces. I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’

But to our surprise, the father makes no deals with his son. No contracts. No transactions. In a moment of pure, 100 proof grace, the father sees his son while he’s still a long way off down the road and he takes off running like a kid to a new playground. 

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 

As if the father giving his son his inheritance before he died wasn’t crazy enough, he outdoes himself.  He runs. Rich men don’t run; they saunter, stroll. Running is far too undignified. But not for this father. He runs to greet his son with his outrageous, lavish, gracious compassion. The son is pardoned. Set free. Forgiven. Released of guilt. And accepted back into the family even before he can utter a word. 

Finally, in his father’s arms, the younger son realizes that he was dead all along. That’s what our confession of sin is too. The confession that we are dead in trespasses. That all of our books and ledgers and checklists aren’t worth a thing. There are no deals in the arms of our heavenly Father. Any confession we make, is made in the embrace of His forgiveness. We don’t earn our way home, we are received, welcomed home.

‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

It’s true of us too. Unworthy. Unclean. Undeserving. But God’s love for us is like the father’s love for his son. God’s love for us is not based on our worth, or whether we earn or deserve his love, but on the father’s love poured out for us in Jesus.

Quickly, then, the father has his servants bring the best robe (think Joseph!), clothing his shame, just as we are clothed in Christ in Baptism. He’s given a ring, a sign of trust and restoration to the family. And shoes on his feet. Servants didn’t wear shoes. Only family wore shoes. He is a son once again. Lost and found. Dead and live. 

And then comes the third death in this story.Bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’

The fattened calf had one job. To stand ready in its stall to drop dead at a moment’s notice in order for people to have a party and rejoice. It’s a picture of Christ’s sacrifice for us, the Lamb slain from before the foundation of the world for you. Who invites you to his banqueting table. To feast. To make merry. For we who were dead are alive again. We who were lost are found in Jesus.

And yet, that’s not the end of the father’s outrageous, unexpected grace. He goes to his elder son. Begs him to join the party. To celebrate. Rejoice. Sadly, the elder son won’t have it. ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command.” The older son is just as lost and dead as the younger son was, only he refused to believe it. He’s hell bent on his own bookkeeping.

Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’”
This parable really is first about Jesus Himself, the Son who left His royal throne, the home of His Father, emptied Himself of all the perks and privileges of being the only Son of the Father, took on our human Flesh and humbled Himself in the lostness of our death. Jesus came to the pig pen of our Sin, our mess, our muck and mire. He was baptized into it. He was crucified in the midst of it. He was buried in it. And rose from the dead for you. 

The parable is about us too. You baptized into the Son. You in Christ embraced by the Father. You clothed in Christ and forgiven, called to be a child of God. God’s Son has found you, claimed you, redeemed you, raised you, clothed you, forgiven you. And brings you home.

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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