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One thing I don’t remember hearing in church as a child was a sermon on the Elder Son, who appears to be something of a peripheral character in the Prodigal Son story. In fact, I was probably in my 30’s when I heard my first “elder son” sermon. This is odd when you think of it, especially considering that the elder son is a very distinct reference to those in the crown to whom Jesus was directing this series of stories.

Let’s back up to the beginning of Luke chapter 15:

The tax collectors and sinners all came to listen to Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law began to complain: “Look, this man welcomes sinners and even eats with them (Luke 15:1,2 NCV).”

It was at this point that Jesus launched into this trio of stories, The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and what we know as The Prodigal Son. I think Jesus had three goals in mind, especially with the 3^rd story: One, he was emphasizing to those who may have become disenfranchised by the attitude of the Pharisees and teachers how much they were valued by Jesus. He was also explaining something about the mindset of God and God’s economy. Three, he wanted to reveal to the Pharisees and teachers something about themselves.

It’s easy for most of us to identify with the foolish son. It’s also very easy for us to judge those we have identified with the Elder Son Syndrome — those who would judge us for being somewhat less than perfect and for occasionally requiring a little “extra” grace.

Over the years, I’ve found how easy it is to shift from younger son to elder son.

It happens in the blink of an eye. One minute we are humbled by the grace of God, the next we are judging the person next to us for lighting up a cigarette or displaying multiple piercings and tattoos, never mind the fact that we are engaged in and enjoying our own freedoms (for which we are being judged by the gossiping fundamentalist over in the corner).  It’s all relative, isn’t it?  We know the grace we have received, and so can rest in our own brand of personal freedoms (“according to our faith”). However, we aren’t quite so sure about anyone else, and besides, we don’t do those particular things.

The thing with the elder brother was that he had made up his own set of rules in which to operate. In his virtual reality, he worked hard, protected his father’s assets (was stingy), and assumed one didn’t kill the fatted calf on a whim. Celebrations of that nature were extravagant; the money could have gone to the temple, or to feed the poor. And, you at least waited until your father was dead to squander your inheritance.

The elder son didn’t understand his father’s economy at all. He must have thought his father weak-minded or deceived to have already given away 1/3 of his assets, especially to someone he knew to be wasteful and wanton. But to welcome the lazy bum back, and then give him the family checkbook? Was his father crazy?

I think most of us can relate to the Elder Son, and we might respond the same way given these circumstances — as least I think I would. Not only did my stupid, foolish brother get a chunk of cash, but I was left doing all of the chores (not that he actually did them, anyway). For years I’ve consoled myself with the thought that everything I was working for was mine; but now, he’s cut back in for another share, and has access to the family bank accounts!

Those of us who work hard at being good Christians — who faithfully attend church, serve in various ways, live responsible lives, and struggle daily with making ends meet — can have a very hard time with those Christians who sometimes don’t act like they understand the price of grace at all. You all know who I mean; you probably have someone in mind right now. These folks come and go as they please, spend their Sundays with their jet skis, take marvelous vacations, and seemingly live the high life, and still have the nerve to call themselves Christians. They live their lives in debt, both spiritually and physically, but there always seems to be more and more grace for them. What’s up with that? As Jeremiah complained, “Why do the wicked prosper” (Jer. 12:1)?

Even I, who has experienced so much grace throughout my life, can very easily slip into the Elder Son Syndrome and start to judge those around me. The first time I was made aware of my inner Elder Son, it literally stopped me in my tracks. I was shocked to discover that I was so quick to apply grace to myself, but so hesitant to apply it to others. I realized that I didn’t understand grace quite so much as I had imagined.

One of the benefits of growing up Lutheran is that in the liturgy every Sunday, we were all reminded of the grace we have received, and why we needed it in the first place. Regardless of how rich or poor we were, the liturgy was the great equalizer. Within the first few minutes of church each Sunday, we would say this:

Almighty God, our Maker and Redeemer, we poor sinners confess unto thee, that we are by nature sinful and unclean, and that we have sinned against thee by thought, word and deed. Wherefore we flee for refuge to thine infinite mercy, seeking and imploring thy grace, for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ.

O most merciful God, who has given thine only-begotten Son to die for us, have mercy upon us and for his sake grant us remission of all our sins: and by thy Holy Spirit increase in us true knowledge of thee and of thy will, and true obedience to they Word, that by thy grace we may come to everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, hath had mercy upon us, and hath given his only Son to die for us, and for his sake forgiveth us all our sins. To them that believe on his Name, he giveth power to become the sons of God, and bestoweth upon them his Holy Spirit. He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved. Grant this, O Lord, unto us all.

Amen. (1958 Service Book & Hymnal)

We have memories like sieves, and we must be reminded — often — that we are in desperate need of grace, and that there is never any grace shortage, either for us or for others. God’s grace is always sufficient, wherever we happen fall on the younger son–elder son continuum.

Questions:

1. Which son do you tend to see yourself as the most?
2. Do you have any “foolish brothers” that test your understanding of grace?

I recall rehearsing for my first Christmas pageant, though I don’t recall the pageant itself.  I don’t have any idea how old I was, but I was possibly three or four. All of us in my Sunday school class had speaking parts; that is, one line Bible verses. We simply were to take turns walking up to the microphone, saying our line, and walking back to our seats. I was naturally quite nervous, and I can recall sitting on my bed while my parents helped me to rehearse my line, over and over:

“God loved us and sent His son. First John, four ten.”

Obviously my practicing worked, as I still remember it.  The full version is this:

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. (NIV)

This verse, coincidentally, makes a point that I made previously: It is not our emotions concerning God that is important so much as knowing the truth that God – not just Jesus, but God the Father – loves us. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not inappropriate to display or vocalize our emotions. However, our emotions are capricious; they change quicker than the weather in Oregon and are, therefore, a notoriously bad gauge of truth. The fact that we feel love for God tells us absolutely nothing – the fact that God loves us tells us everything.

Many people have the mistaken belief that Jesus is the “good God” who loves us and the Father is the stern, hard to please God who is just one sin away from zapping us. In truth, while knowing the Father and the Son are separate persons within the Trinity (more on this later), the purposes and emotions of Jesus and the Father cannot be separated. As Jesus so aptly put it, “The Father and I are one. (John 10:30)” Jesus also said, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. (John 14:9)” We know what the Father is like by knowing Jesus. When we see Jesus reaching out to children, the poor, the sick, and the sinners, we see the true heart of the Father.

This means that the God of the Old Testament – the one who obliterated Sodom – is the same God who is revealed to us in Jesus. How can this be? The writer of Hebrews put it like this:

In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. (Heb. 1:1-3a)

In the Old Testament, God was revealed through men. In the New, we finally see the “exact representation” of the God of the Old Testament. As the New Century Version puts it, Jesus “shows exactly what God is like.” If we know God’s love as expressed in Jesus, we can then begin to see that same God in the Old Testament. Really.

Putting it another way,  reading the Old Testament is like looking at God through a dirty, distorted piece of old glass. Seeing Jesus in the Gospels provided an unobstructed view of God as he really is, a God motivated by love, compassion and grace. If we are shown two photographs of the same person – one faded, dirty, and blurry, and the other in high resolution color – which one would best tell us what the person looks like? There may be some details in the faded photo that are missing in the good one, but first we’d see what the good photo shows us and then look for that person in the old photo. We should start with what is clear, and then use that to understand what is unclear.

What is clear about God is, as my first Bible memory verse said, “God loved us, and sent His son.”

Questions:

1. What is the first Bible verse that you memorized? At what age?
2. What has been your image of God, as expressed in the Old Testament?

(A personal reflection)

I was raised a Lutheran, in a small community in northern Minnesota that very well could have been the inspiration for Garrison Keillor’s imaginary town of Lake Wobegon. My dad came from a long line of Swedish Lutherans who had been part of the Swedish Augustana Evangelical Lutheran Church, which merged with the Lutheran Church in America (now part of the ELCA). Kittson County, where I lived, was at least at one time considered the most Swedish county in the United States and still boasts the highest percentage of Swedish speakers in the country. My dad was raised speaking Swedish at home and my grandfather, who lived with us when I was little, never fully converted to English.

The church we attended was called Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church, a truly wonderful name for a church. “Evangelical” was the term Martin Luther used to refer to his reformation movement, and was kept in the name to honor the former Augustana church. My church was the largest church in town, with a membership of over 1,000 (but an average attendance at less than 1/3 of that). While the LCA was apparently known as the most liberal of the Lutheran denominations, I remember our church as being quite conservative, both socially and theologically.

Oddly enough, the Swedish Lutherans had been pietists, something that I’m sure would have caused Martin to spin in his grave. It was the very thing that Luther had warned about in the introduction to his commentary on Galatians:

I have taken in hand, in the name of the Lord, once again to expound the Epistle of St. Paul to the Galatians; not because I desire to teach new things, or such as you have not heard before, but because we have to fear, as the greatest and nearest danger, that Satan take from us the pure doctrine of faith and bring into the Church again the doctrine of works and men’s traditions.

When my dad was young, for example, playing cards were not allowed (although they could play regular card games with a deck of Rook cards), alcohol was wrong (except for medicinal purposes), and frivolous music was frowned upon.

These trends obviously didn’t stick in my family, as my dad and his brothers were self-taught musicians, my dad playing piano, guitar, and clarinet in a local swing band. My mother was Episcopalian, but joined the Lutheran church when I was little, and began teaching Sunday School, which she did for fifteen or more years. Neither of my parents were drinkers, although they no aversion to making home-made wine on occasion. By the time I was born, playing cards were in abundance in our house, and I could play Rummy as soon as I could count (if not before). My parents certainly demonstrated very high moral standards; however, I was never taught that God would be mad at me if I failed.

I grew up convinced that God loved and accepted me unconditionally. I don’t know where I first learned this, but I was surer of this than anything, even of my parents’ love for me. I’ve often heard that children will form their ideas about God from their relationship with their father. While I had a wonderful dad, I can’t really say that this principle held true for me. Rather, from a very early age I understood that God was the only person who would ever really love and accept me unconditionally. My parents were fallible, God was not. I might fear the wrath of my parents or other authority figures, but I never feared God’s wrath.

And to this day, I never have.