The Son Who Never Left – Sermon – Pastor Marlee Page

The younger son’s ‘lostness’ is the obvious part of Jesus’ story. He’s the one we usually think of when we hear the words Prodigal Son. He’s the one who leaves, wastes everything and eventually his life falls apart. But before we get to the distant country, the reckless living, or the pigpen, I think we need to notice what actually goes wrong first. Because I think the younger son’s problem begins long before he leaves home.

Listen again to what he says: “Father, give me my share of the estate.” In other words: “Dad, I want what you can give me. I’m just not sure I want you.” And maybe we can understand the weight of that by putting it into a setting closer to our own experience, after all its cottage season for lots of folks right now.

Imagine the Cottage

Imagine someone you love owns a beautiful cottage. It’s right on the water. Great view, there’s a dock, maybe a boat. A firepit. A beautiful deck overlooking the lake. It’s one of those places where you can sit outside in the morning with a cup of coffee and think, I could stay here forever.

And the owner is someone who loves you. For years they’ve been saying: “Come up anytime.” “We’d love to have you.”- “Spend the weekend with us.” And you’ve enjoyed being there. You’ve enjoyed everything their generosity has made available to you. But then imagine one day saying: “You know what? I really love this place.” “I love the cottage and the lake and the boat. I love spending time here.” “So, could you just give me the keys?” And they say: “Sure. We’d love to have you come up.” And you respond: “No, I don’t think you understand. I’d really like the cottage without you being there.”

Whooh, suddenly that’s different because now we’re discovering something about the relationship. You don’t really want the person. You want access to what the person possesses: the cottage, the lake, the boat. You want everything their generosity has provided. You just don’t particularly want them. And that’s essentially what the younger son is saying to his father. “Give me what’s mine. Give me the inheritance. Give me what your life has provided for me and then I’ll go live my life without you.” That’s the real tragedy at the beginning of this story.

The younger son’s greatest problem isn’t that he eventually wastes his father’s money. His greatest problem is that he believes the Father’s gifts can satisfy him without the Father’s presence. And before we’re too hard on him, maybe that’s where Jesus’ story begins getting a little uncomfortable for us. Because isn’t it possible for us to do exactly the same thing with God? God, bless my family. God, protect the people I love. God, give me health. God, provide what I need. God, help things work out. God, give me peace. God, answer this prayer. None of those prayers are wrong. Jesus is very clear about inviting us to bring our needs to the Father.

But there’s a deeper question underneath them: If God gave me everything I’m asking Him for would I actually want Him? It’s a question that will haunt each of us for the entirety of our lives. Do I want the gifts of God, Or do I want God Himself? Do I want what’s in the Father’s house? Or do I want the Father? Because the younger son decides the cottage will be just fine without the owner and so, he leaves.

The Distant Country

Jesus says: “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country.” And that’s important. The distance begins relationally before it becomes geographical. His heart has already left before his feet ever walk down the road. Jesus describes the downward trajectory: Home —> Distant country —> Reckless living —> Empty pockets —> Famine —> Desperation

Finally, he finds himself feeding pigs and longing to eat what they’re eating. Everything he thought would give him freedom has left him empty. The gifts couldn’t replace the giver. The inheritance couldn’t replace the Father. And eventually Jesus tells us: “He came to his senses.” I love that phrase. Because something finally becomes clear to him. He remembers home. But more importantly, he remembers his father. And he decides “I’m going home.”

Now, I want you to see something else here. He Still Doesn’t Understand the Father! The younger son begins preparing his speech. He knows what he’s done. So, he rehearses: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” And then comes his plan: “Make me like one of your hired servants.” Think about that. He left home believing: “I don’t need my father.” Now he’s returning believing: “My father couldn’t possibly still want me as his son.”

He’s changed his direction. But he still doesn’t understand his father’s heart. So, he creates a new arrangement. Maybe I can work. Maybe I can repay and prove myself. Not as a son but a servant. And he starts walking home. Now, Jesus tells us something is happening at the other end of the road.

The Father Runs

Luke 15:20: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him.” And then, he ran to his son. The son is walking toward home. The Father is running toward him. The son has prepared an explanation. The Father is preparing an embrace. The son is thinking about repayment. The Father is thinking about restoration. The son believes he’s coming home as a servant. The Father sees his son. And before the son can negotiate some new arrangement, the Father starts giving instructions. Bring the best robe. Put a ring on his finger. Put sandals on his feet. Prepare the feast. We’re going to celebrate. Because: “This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

Do you see what the Father refuses to do? He refuses to let his son come home as an employee. “You’re not working your way back into this family, You’re my son.” And if Jesus ended the story there, we’d have one of the most beautiful pictures of grace anywhere in Scripture. A son who walked away. A Father who watched for him. A son who came home. A Father who ran to meet him. Jesus is about to show us that you don’t have to leave the Father’s house to lose the Father’s heart.

ONE SON NEVER LEFT

Luke 15:25–30

Let’s go back to the cottage for a minute. Remember, the younger son essentially said: “I love the cottage. I love the lake. I love everything this place provides. I’d just rather have it without you.” And he took what the Father gave him and left. But there’s another son in the story. This son stayed. He’s the guy who cuts the grass and cleans the boat. He’s the son that repairs the dock and stacks the firewood. He’s there opening the cottage in the spring and shutting everything down in the fall. If something needs to be done, he’s probably the one doing it. He’s responsible, dependable, hard-working. He’s everything you would want him to be.

But imagine that over the years something begins to change. At first he’s helping because this is his family and he loves being part of it. But gradually he starts keeping track. “I’m always the one cutting the grass. How come I’m the one always fixing everything?” “Nobody works around here as hard as I do.” And eventually: “After everything I’ve done for this place, I deserve more than everybody else.”

Nothing has changed on the outside. He’s still cutting the grass. Still repairing the dock. Still doing all the right things. But something has changed inside him. And that’s the older brother in Jesus’ story.

Standing Outside

Luke tells us that the older son is out working in the field when his younger brother comes home. As he approaches the house, he hears music and dancing. There’s a party going on. So, he asks one of the servants what’s happening. The servant tells him: “Your brother has come and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.” You would think that would be good news. His brother is alive. His family is together again.

But Luke says: “The older brother became angry and refused to go in.” Now, I want you to see how fascinating this is in the way that Jesus has structured this parable. At the beginning of the story, we knew exactly which son was lost. But now the younger brother is inside the Father’s house and the older brother is outside. That’s when we begin to realize this story may not be quite as simple as we thought. Because the son who left has come home. And the son who stayed doesn’t want to come in.

“I’ve Been Slaving for You”

His father comes outside and pleads with him. And that’s when everything the older brother has apparently been carrying finally comes pouring out: “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders.” Listen to the language he uses. “Slaving for you.” That’s an extraordinary way for a son to describe life with his father. He doesn’t say: “I’ve loved being here. We’ve built this together. I’m grateful for everything we’ve shared.” He says: “I’ve been slaving for you.”

He’s a son who has begun thinking like an employee. Somewhere along the way, relationship became obligation. And obedience became a transaction. “I did this —> I obeyed that —> I’ve been faithful = Therefore, I deserve something from you.”

It’s the cottage all over again. The younger brother said: “Give me the keys because I want what’s yours.” The older brother stayed behind, cared for everything, and gradually began believing: “After everything I’ve done around here, this place owes me.” One left the cottage because he didn’t want the owner. The other stayed so long that he began acting as though he were the owner.

When Someone Else’s Blessing Feels Like Your Loss

Here’s what exposes it, and I don’t think we talk about this enough, whether in the context of this parable or just in our lives in general. The older brother seemed fine until his brother received something. Unpack this with me for a moment. Nothing has actually been taken away from him, the older brother. His room is still his room. His place in the family hasn’t changed. His father’s love for him hasn’t diminished. But someone else has received grace. And suddenly he can’t celebrate.

Listen to the way he talks about his brother: “But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” He doesn’t say “My brother. It’s “This son of yours.” Can you hear the resentment in those words? I think this is where Jesus’ story starts getting uncomfortably close to religious people like us, like me. Because sometimes another person’s blessing can feel strangely like our loss. We see someone receive an opportunity we wanted. Someone’s prayer gets answered while ours hasn’t. Someone gets recognized when we’ve been quietly serving for year and somewhere inside us comes that little voice: “What about me?” That’s when comparison begins revealing what’s happening in our hearts.

The Danger of Keeping Score With God

There’s a subtle danger in being faithful for a long time. We can begin keeping score without realizing we’re doing it. I’ve served. I’ve given. I’ve shown up. I’ve tried to make good choices. I’ve remained faithful through difficult seasons. None of those things are bad, they’re beautiful expressions of discipleship, but they become dangerous when a quiet assumption begins growing underneath them. “After everything I’ve done, God owes me.” That’s when obedience stops being a response to grace and starts becoming an attempt to earn something and grace becomes very difficult to celebrate when it lands on somebody we don’t think has earned it because grace doesn’t operate according to our scorecards. Grace isn’t a wage. Grace isn’t a reward for outperforming somebody else. Grace is a gift and that’s exactly what the older brother can’t understand.

Dallas Willard once made a distinction every Christian needs to understand: “Grace is not opposed to effort. It is opposed to earning.” That’s the older brother’s problem. His effort isn’t the problem. His earning is. He’s turned obedience into currency. He’s keeping track of everything he’s done for his father, and somewhere along the way he’s reached the conclusion: After everything I’ve done, you owe me. Whenever we start keeping score with God, eventually we will become resentful when His grace toward someone else doesn’t match our calculations.

Hidden in Plain Sight

This is why I think Jesus spends so much time on the older brother. This is definitely a Hidden in Plain Sight moment! His ‘lostness’ is harder to recognize. The younger brother’s life fell apart publicly. But the older brother? Responsible, dependable older brother. He’s working in the Father’s field. He’s doing everything expected of him. And yet he’s angry, comparing, and yes, keeping score. Standing outside a celebration his Father desperately wants him to enjoy. You don’t have to walk away from God to become distant from God. You can stay around the things of God: Serving, worshiping, giving, reading the Scriptures, while somewhere along the way your heart quietly moves from: “I get to be with my Father” to: “Look at everything I’ve done for Him.”

Perhaps that’s the question the older brother places before us: Am I enjoying being the Father’s child, or am I trying to prove that I’m a good one? If the younger son needed to discover that the Father’s gifts could never replace the Father, the older son needs to discover something different. Being in the Father’s house was never supposed to feel like slavery. And that’s when Jesus shows us something remarkable about the Father. When the older son refuses to come inside, the Father goes looking for him too.

COME BACK TO THE FATHER

Maybe the most important question in this story isn’t: “Which brother am I?” Maybe it’s: “What do I now know about the Father?”

One son becomes lost through rebellion, the other becomes lost through resentment. The beautiful thing is the Father goes looking for both. The Father goes outside twice. Different sons, different kinds of lost, Same Father. Let’s go back to the cottage one last time.

One son wanted the keys to the cottage without the owner. The other stayed, cut the grass, fixed the dock, stacked the firewood and eventually became so focused on what he’d done that he stopped enjoying the person who invited him there.

Maybe that’s the question for us: “Have I forgotten why I’m here?” Following Jesus isn’t about getting the keys to everything God can give us and it isn’t about proving how much work we’ve done for Him. It’s about knowing and enjoying the Father. He isn’t waiting for you to prove yourself. He’s already moving toward you.

Let me close with something I really hope causes you to think on it this week, Jesus leaves the story with the younger brother inside and the older brother outside. The music is playing. The table is ready and the Father has come outside to invite him in. We never find out what the older brother does. Maybe because Jesus wants us to answer that question. Hear me on this! Wherever you find yourself today, down the road, working around the cottage, or standing just outside the door, the invitation is the same. Come back to the Father. Because whether you’ve wandered far away or you’ve been here the whole time, He still wants you near. And that is the heart of the Father.