Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32

There is a little shop on West 7th street here in St Paul called The Center for Lost Objects, filled with vintage clothing, antiques, home decor and locally made art. Things discarded by other people. A little banged up but still has some use.  I love to think of God this way: that God is the Center for all of Lost Objects and Causes and People. All of us a slightly banged up, maybe overlooked.

Just before today’s story in Luke’s Gospel, there are two other lost stories. A woman who had ten coins and loses one. She carefully sweeps her house until she finds it. And when she does, she throws a party. For what was lost has been found. Which gives us an image of God as a Woman with a Broom. I”d like to see that icon. I googled it and came up with zero images. So, artists, perhaps this is a new direction for you. I’d buy one—I like thinking about God as a woman with a broom, persistently looking for us, making sure not one person is overlooked.

The other lost story is a shepherd with 100 sheep. One sheep gets lost and that shepherd leaves the 99 to go and search for the one who was lost. And when he finds that sheep, he throws a party. Because what was lost has been found.

So, we have a lost coin and a lost sheep and then we come to a lost son. This is one of the most beloved stories—the most well known parables in the the bible. Even for those who are outside of the Christian tradition. This is not a moralistic story. Or a religious analogy. This one doesn’t end with, “So, let’s be like the elder.” Or, “Let’s be more like the younger.”

What we have is a heck of a good story. Hearing it is like being wrapped up in an old quilt from childhood, worn in and soft and just the right weight. It’s possible you have heard this story a dozen times and every preacher’s take on it, including this one and everything I’m about to say. It’s okay. Let it wrap you up this morning in grace and comfort as you hear it again.

This story is relatable content. It’s likely that even right now—you are so busy thinking about your own relationship twists and turns that you won’t hear another word I say. That’s okay. Maybe tune back in at the very end because we always try and end with good news. The Prodigal Son the Prodigal Daughter or Prodigal Child tends to come alive with little effort.

Maybe you feel connected to the story through younger son.

To be the younger son. To want independence and to see the world and do things your way. To be headstrong. To make a series of decisions that leads you to a place where you would give anything to get your old life back. To understand what it means to blow it. To become not just a little needy but a full on beggar. To be far off and wonder how it is you got there and how in the world you can ever go back. To ask yourself, does anyone from before even miss me?

The younger son takes his inheritance and goes to a far off country. When the son comes into difficulty, he becomes a servant of a farmer. This farmer is a Gentile. We know this because he has a pig farm. Feeding pigs would be in itself bad enough—as a Jewish person, this younger son would have been taught from birth not to touch or eat pigs. Now, this young man not only tends pigs, he considers joining the pigs at the trough. Think of the shame. He went from being the son of a wealthy landowner to one of the “unclean.” He is experiencing rapid downward mobility. This is the level of shame that if you were his parent, I’m not sure you would even be able to talk about it. When someone asked about your children, you would talk about the elder son and leave it at that.

 

Or maybe today, you feel like the elder son (daughter). Responsible. Choosing the path of work, of doing the right thing year after year after year. To wonder if anyone notices. To feel small twinges of martyrdom. Truth be told, you’re bitter that the whole system seems so unjust. Does anyone even see that you arrive an hour early every single day? That you haven’t used your vacation days? That you cleaned the kitchen last night, again? That you got straight A’s. That you are the one worrying about your parent’s failing health?  That you are just trying to do the right thing, day after day after day. That all this makes you so ticked off and resentful that you cannot  imagine joining in on this welcome home party for your brother.

This is a family business and the elder son knows what’s up. He justifiably points out the truth. He says, “Dad, my brother took it all and wasted it. Dad, the sex workers, cocaine, parties, weekends at the high roller table. He just wasted it all and now he’s back, asking for more? It’s not fair.”

And then—there is the foolish father. Seeing his child far off in the distance. He would recognize his silhouette anywhere—his child’s gait and the way he reaches up and pushes the hair out of his eyes. He knows it’s him. He has dreamed about this very moment. This father picks up his garment, exposing his ankles and his sandals and he runs. RUNS. The father’s household—the servants and cousins and the neighbors all stand with mouths gaping open. Elders do not run. People in his position of dignity do not expose their ankles. This is not the way things are done. And then the father cuts off the lame half-hearted, rehearsed apology and embraced this wayward child. Embraces. Can you imagine what that felt like?

When you do google images for Prodigal Son—the vast majority focus on the embrace. The hug.

This ridiculous father. Foolish, lavish love. He ought to have reamed this child up and down. We think, “His boy needs a time out. NOT a welcome home party.” This child has never heard the word, “No.” The father is not acting like he is supposed to act.

And that’s just the thing. This is NOT the way things are done. This father is operating outside of the customs, norms of this time and place.

Let’s be honest, we don’t even know if that younger son came home with a change of heart. If he’s sincere, if he’s seen the light, if he’s repentant. He might just be saying what his father wants to hear. I mean, do you believe that kid?

What we might want to say to that father is: boundaries! Limits! Your self-centered child has taken and squandered and learned nothing and he’s back, asking for more.

But that’s a view from our world. And that father is operating in another world with different rules. A world shaped by Love and second chances and grace and mercy, unbidden, unlimited.

What we know is that love comes barreling toward that wayward child, full blast, without hesitation. And man, do we love it. No wonder all the painters paint this part. Every little lost part of us leans toward that embrace, thirsty for a bit of it.

So many lost objects, causes and people. The coin, the sheep, the wayward child, you, me. Whether you have squander every single opportunity or faithfully do the right thing thing day in and day out. It is God who is consistent. God is consistent. While we are still far off, love comes barreling toward us. We want to focus all our attention on whether these offspring deserve this mercy. Whether we deserve this mercy. Instead, let’s train our eyes to see the father and the depths of his generosity.

So when you feel down and out or lost or far off or all but dead, here is the Center for Lost Objects and Causes and People. Here with the bread and wine and water and promises and the mercy. Here is the embrace and the party and the sense of home. God is the Center for Lost Objects and People and it is this love, turned on full blast, that makes all things new, and we all get wrapped up and become the Center of Found Objects and Causes and People.