My
daughter, Mary, attended the college of her choice because of a Bonner service
Scholarship. To remain eligible
for this particular scholarship, Mary had to volunteer a set number of hours
with an approved service agency there in Richmond, IN during each school
year. She also had to devote about
half the summer—for 2 summers—to approved service work outside of
Richmond.
The
summer she turned 19—the summer after her 1st year in college—Mary
informed us she intended to complete part of her summer service work
abroad. Abroad! Now our family had limited experience
with travel outside the U.S. Kevin and the girls had participated in week-long
summer mission trips just across the Rio Grande from McAllen, TX, but we would
not consider that going abroad. At
that time, neither Kevin nor I had any experience with travel far away. Mary
planned to go abroad! In order to
keep the lines of communication open, I bit my tongue, instead of screaming, “What?”
And I put on a countenance of mild interest—instead of alarm. Mary had a scholarship to pay her
travel, and she had found an organization that taught conversational English to
ethnic children in China. China! The volunteers—college students and
young adults from all over the world—would meet (not in New York or Los Angeles
so they could fly together).
No! The volunteers would
meet in Beijing for orientation. Then they would travel together into
China’s interior to teach for 3 weeks.
My
19 year-old daughter—who spoke no Chinese, who had been no further than 30
miles across the U. S. border—wanted to fly to China, alone. I was worried for her safety. I was
terrified at my lack of control over the situation. And I was angry that she
was callous about my fears.
Tensions
were high in the Jones apartment as Mary’s departure grew near. But the fact
is, Mary was doing exactly what I had prayed for since she was born. She was growing into a strong,
intelligent, caring, independent, capable, adventurous young woman.
While
she was abroad, I spent a lot of time in prayer: praying for her safety, praying for opportunities for me to
communicate with her—because in rural central China, internet chats and
telephone calls are not reliable—praying for fulfillment, growth, and adventure
for her, and praying for my own peace of mind. On the night of her return, as we were standing at the bottom
of the escalator to the baggage area in Austin-Bergstrom International Airport,
watching as each new group of travelers stepped onto the moving stairs, it was
all I could do not to run up the escalator knocking people down when my Mary
finally appeared at the top of the escalator.
A
father had 2 sons. One day,
contrary to his culture and at the risk of insulting his father, the younger
son asked to receive now what would be his later—when his father died. Wanting
to keep the lines of communication open, the father divided his property
between both his sons. Flouting
family and religious tradition, the younger son sold his share of the property.
Billfold full from the sale of his inheritance, heart full of desires, and head
full of dreams, the son was ready to see the world . . . on his own terms.
Tissue in hand, the father watches as his younger son packs his clothes and
boxes his belongings. Tears stinging his eyes, the father waves good-bye as his
son sets out. Heartbroken, he watches his son leave home and family; he watches
as his son rejects what is so important to the father—family and faith.
The
father is heartbroken, and he is worried—worried about his son’s safety and
welfare. The father is
heartbroken, and he is anxious—anxious about the choices his son has made and
the choices he will probably make.
But the father is also hopeful.
He is “hopeful that
the seeds he had once sown in love might yet be harvested in the return of his
child.”[1]
So each day he prays for safety, wisdom, and kind companions for his son. And each day, he walks the fence-line
of his fields, checking the horizon, hoping that he will see his son heading
back home.
One
day, as he looks down the road, he sees a figure in the distance. Stooped and stumbling, unkempt yet
unwavering, the figure travels towards this farm. It is his son.
Forgetting who might be watching, flinging all sense of decorum to the
wind, the father runs towards his son and gathers him up in his arms, saying, “Son,
do you know I still love you?”
What
kind of love is this? It’s a
forgiving love. Although by his
actions, the son had disinherited his family, the father did not disinherit
him. He did not banish him from
the family. And now, not only does
he receive the son, but also, the father welcomes him fully back into the
family. What kind of love is
this? It is a foolish love. The
father has not acted the part of the proud patriarch, but instead the sentimental
softee. From offering the inheritance early to running to his son, this father
has behaved foolishly in the eyes of his culture and his religious tradition.
What kind of love is this? It is
an extravagant love. My son’s come
home again! Bring out the Bourbon, simmer the steaks, crank up the ice cream
freezer; invite all the neighbors.
Let’s celebrate, for my son’s come home again. What kind of love is
this? It is extraordinary love.
As
“the church lady” on Saturday Night Live would say, “Isn’t that special?” Yeah,
if you’re the prodigal son, it’s special.
The prodigal child is getting special treatment. It appears the prodigal is the
favorite. But what about the older
son? When we were in college, my
brother and I would joke with my mom, saying “I’m the favorite. See, when we came home, she cooked my
favorite meal—meatloaf. No, I’m
the favorite. She baked Shoney’s
cake—my favorite—for dessert.” We
knew, however, that our parents took great effort to be fair—the same number of
gifts for each of us under the Christmas tree, the same monetary amount spent
on said gifts, the same curfews, the same educational opportunities.
While
the older son wants to put the “he’s your favorite” spin on the events, this
just is not the case. This “father not only had two sons but loved
two sons, went out to two sons, and was generous to two sons.”[2]
When the younger asked for his inheritance—now, the father divided his estate
between both sons. So the elder
brother received his inheritance early, too. The father is not playing favorites. He loves both sons—with what kind of
love? A forgiving love. “Sons
owed their fathers loyalty and obedience.”[3] By refusing to enter the party, the
older son was heaping humiliation on his father. Yet his father came out to meet him where he was. His father took the 1st
steps towards reconciliation with him.
He loves both sons. With what
kind of love? Foolish love. The
father “willingly adopted the stance of
pleading with his elder son—a major humiliation for a father [in that]
patriarchal culture.”[4] What kind of
love is this? An extravagant love. He tells the elder son, “all that is mine is yours.”[5]
From his viewpoint, there was never a question about his son’s access to field
or herd, to farm or house. The
father has already been sharing all that he has with his elder son. Both sons break his heart, and he loves both of
them. How does he show it? By behaving foolishly, forgiving them,
and offering extravagant examples of his love.
As
is true of many of Jesus’ parables, the parable of the Loving Father shines a
revealing light on who God is and how we experience God. When we find ourselves
cut off from God—and this is always due to our choices—God is ready to behave
foolishly and forgive us . . . yet again.
God is ready to behave foolishly and shower us with extravagant love—receiving
us back into the family and sharing with us all that is God’s.
Are
we ready to accept this amazing and patient love—a love so different from what
we usually encounter among each other?
Will we allow this forgiving, abundant love that God showers down on us
to soak into us and shape our response into emulation of that same love in our
own relationships? Our
relationships with our spouses, our children, our parents, our extended family,
our friends, our neighbors, our co-workers, even our relationships with our
enemies?
Are
we ready to respond to God’s foolish, extravagant display of love by growing
into the compassionate, wise, faithful people God has been hoping and praying
we
[1] Daniel. G. Deffenbaugh,
“Luke 15: 1 – 3, 11b – 32—Theological Perspective.” Feasting on the Word,
Year C. vol. 1. Edited by David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor.
Louisville: Westminster John Knox
Press, 2009, p. 118.
[2] Fred B. Craddock. Luke
in Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and
Preaching series. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990, p. 188.
[3] Leslie J. Hoppe, “Luke
15: 1 – 3, 11b – 32—Exegetical Perspective.” Feasting on the Word,
Year C. vol. 1. Edited by David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor.
Louisville: Westminster John Knox
Press, 2009, p. 121.
[4]
Leslie J. Hoppe, “Luke 15: 1 – 3, 11b – 32—Exegetical Perspective.” Feasting
on the Word, Year C. vol. 1. Edited by David L. Bartlett & Barbara
Brown Taylor. Louisville:
Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, p. 121.
[5]
Luke 15: 31 NRSV
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