On Fathering Prodigals And Others
Self Help
What's A Mother/Father To Do?
Parenting For The New Millennium
"And he said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost and is found.' " -- Luke 15:31-32
The story of the Prodigal Son needs little introduction to most Americans. It is a masterpiece known nearly by memory by millions. Some have called it the world's greatest short story. It could well be, for in a few short verses it summarizes so many of the essential truths of life.
It may be, however, the parable should be renamed "The Parable of the Loving Father." The focus in the popular mind often has been on the Prodigal. Yet the story really says most about the nature of father love and the nature of God's love.
While the story, like a priceless, well-cut diamond, can be examined from a variety of angles to see newly refracted light, let us turn this gem-like story toward the father to examine the light it sheds on fatherhood.
When the father in this story loves prodigals and others, what qualities of character does he demonstrate? What does he teach us about God? And what is the true nature of fatherhood as suggested by this story?
I.
Note first that this father allowed his son to be free.
When the son asks for his share of the family estate (which would be about one-third of the total), the father doesn't argue with him. Nor does he coerce him into staying home. He allows the son to make an anti-family decision, and an anti-family-fortune decision. As a son he has certain inheritance rights, and the father grants him freedom even to use those rights inappropriately.
The son has the freedom to think selfishly. Give me my share, he says to his father. And then he sets off for the big city in a far country to get away from home and family and traditions. He is off to do his own thing, to be himself, to live without family restraint or traditional inhibitions. His profligacy was demonstrated in both financial squandering and moral philandering.
Many fathers identify with this story because it has some resemblance to a son going off to college and using a sizeable amount of the family income to party, to behave immorally, and to waste life. Or it could be the son that drops out, heads for the Greenwich Villages and the Haight Ashburys to live off Dad's monthly check. There are many versions of the story.
But note that in this story, the father gave the son his freedom. He did not chase after his son. Now of legal age, his son had decided to take what was coming to him and to leave. Even though the separation was painful, even though it was a blow at a loving father's heart, he let him go and did not pursue him, even after they had received no word for a long time.
However, notice this. Allowing the son freedom to fail also allows the son freedom to come to himself, to find himself, to discover who he is and what he wants out of life. The time comes in every family when the parents must learn to let go, to allow their children to venture on their own, even at the risk of failure or pain. A father who stifles his son's freedom when he comes of age is often as troublesome as a son who misuses his freedom. The wise father will let his son go, knowing that only in freedom will he find himself.
It was in the far country, after he was penniless and therefore friendless, that the young man came to himself. He finally discovered who he was -- not just a young man seeking his freedom and independence. His self-discovery was far deeper than that. He discovered he was a sinner; that he was his father's son who only deserved to be a hired servant, if even that.
A man comes to himself when he can say, "What a fool I've been," when he can own up to his faults and transgressions, when he can see in perspective his selfishness and willfulness. A man comes to himself when he recognizes his sin against the father -- not just the father on earth, but as well his Father in heaven. A generation comes to itself when it recognizes the grievous sin of the race and acknowledges its share in it.
It may be that as sons and as a nation we are still prodigal, believing yet in our own innocence as we squander the moral and financial capital of the past. A true sign adolescence has not yet arrived at maturity is the unwillingness to take responsibility for failure as well as success. It is the prodigal mind that claims credit for noble achievement, but blames the environment or circumstances or heredity for defeat. When the son comes to himself, when he accepts responsibility for sin, then he is ready to return to the father as an adult. And the wise father, the wise nation, will give the son, the generation, freedom to come to himself, or itself.
II.
Note secondly that the father practices forgiveness.
And what was the father doing during his son's long absence? He was looking down the road toward the far country, hoping someday his beloved son would make his way back home.
And when that eventful day occurred, when he looked down the road, by now out of habit, only to look again, to wonder, and then with wild excitement to be sure, he ran toward his son, embraced him, and kissed him with great joy.
Notice that the father does not approach his son with a list of legalistic demands. Upon meeting him he does not set forth conditions which he must meet in order to be accepted back into the family. In face of the father's exuberance, the son hardly can get the well-rehearsed "hired servant speech" out of his mouth. Instead he is embraced, kissed, given the finest robe, and told to prepare for a welcome-home party.
We often have overlooked this marvelous father-love in the parable by focusing on the son. We identify with him and enjoy recounting his many sins because they sound a lot like our own. Many of us like the role of the prodigal and sincerely expect the father will welcome us back after we have had our fun, wasting our lives. Consequently, we are not thinking of true repentance, but of pseudo-repentance, a presumptive, manipulative repentance which seeks not to change the self but to change the father. As a result, true forgiveness is never experienced and the glad joy of acceptance and reaffirmation is never known.
If on the one hand the manipulators presume upon the forgiveness of the father, on the other hand the self-righteous legalists presume the sons must always earn forgiveness. Legalists always forget that God's grace is greater than their cumbersome laws and petty traditions. The prophet Ezekiel said for God long ago, "As I live, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live" (Ezekiel 33:11). Legalists always want the prodigals to get their due reward for their wickedness, partly because the legalists resent the good time had by prodigals, and partly because they do not recognize it is by grace we all are saved.
The elder son, self-centered and legalistic, found it difficult to forgive. He refers to the prodigal as your son, rather than as my brother. But the father does not say my son, but your brother. Brothers have no real grounds for self-righteousness. They also are to practice forgiveness. The father's grief over his son's separation and sin is now changed to overwhelming gratitude. But the older brother, who never really grieved the loss of his brother, now resented his return.
God is like the father of this story. As one unknown poet has put it:
Who so draws nigh to God one step through doubtings dim,
God will advance a mile in blazing light to him.
When we come down the road home toward the father with true repentance in our hearts, he comes out in joy to meet us, to receive us back, to throw a welcome-home party, and to accept us again for who we are -- his son or daughter. How can we earthly fathers do anything less?
III.
Thirdly, the loving father of this story expects faithfulness from both sons, and then rewards it.
The older son stayed home and served his father well, but more out of a sense of joyless duty than out of grateful love. The father did not deprive the older son of what was rightfully his, for even legalists have certain rights and rewards.
But the love exchanged between father and elder son was less intense than that between father and prodigal son. The prodigal knew what it was to be lost and then to be found, to be dead, and then alive; to be in poverty and friendless, and then to enjoy the abundance and acceptance of his father's household.
The elder son tended to take for granted his opportunities and privileges. The father accepted him and loved him, but wished he would loosen up a little, exhibit a little more feeling, rather than the tight-lipped devotion to duty for duty's sake. The loving father is aware that heavier demands often are placed on the oldest and even that parents learn their child-raising techniques on the oldest. Yet the oldest ought to realize the special privileges they have because of their position and the honor that often is given to them. The elder brother ought to rejoice in his father's reward for his faithfulness, rather than be consumed in resentment toward his brother.
The father has a certain love for the younger son's adventurous spirit, his desire to get out from under the domination of his older brother, and his willingness to travel and take risks. But he laments his reckless flamboyance, his wastefulness, his complete lack of appreciation for the value of a dollar.
Even so, the father does not give the elder son's inheritance to the younger son. The father declares his love for his son and acknowledges his faithfulness. Everything I have will be yours. You have earned it. It will come to you.
And the prodigal is expected to work after the parties are over. As Ernest Campbell is fond of saying, the prodigal cannot expect to keep going around the farm a year later saying, "I'm back. I'm back." Most likely the other people, including the father, will say, "Yes, yes, you're back. But for God's sake, pick up a hoe and help us with this work."
And the truly repentant prodigal will do just that. He will agree with biblical scholar C. H. Dodd that the immense energy of the religious life is rooted in a moment of passivity in which God acts to forgive us and accept us as his own. Once back in the Father's family, we are expected to behave in a manner befitting the family. It is not the family's duty to adapt to the behavior of the prodigal. It is the prodigal's duty to adapt to the behavior of the family.
Thus today we fathers are called upon to imitate as best we can the ways of our heavenly Father. Our children must have freedom to become themselves. And when they return in true repentance, they must be gladly forgiven. And elder sons must be rewarded for their faithfulness, and prodigals must be expected to do the father's will.
Prayer
Almighty God, our Father, as your children on spaceship earth, we come into your presence to acknowledge you as our Divine Parent. You have created us in your own image bringing us forth from the dust of the earth, giving us a bit of your Mind, placing within us the spark of life and the gift of your Spirit.
We confess that often we have refused to acknowledge you as Father. In childish tantrums or adolescent rebellion we have repudiated our dependence upon you. Or as we have gained in knowledge and power we have become inflated with conceit and have thought ourselves sufficient for all things. Or as life has become harsh or full of trouble, we sometimes become cynical or indifferent to the deeper issues, bored with existence and its complexities. We confess that we often lose the sense of wonder and awe in our self-pity or smallness of mind and heart.
Father in heaven, we ask your help and forgiveness. If like prodigal sons and daughters, we have been in a far country wasting our lives in riotous living, bring us home again to you and to true life. Or if like elder brothers and sisters, we have remained home, but with legalistic piety and hardness of heart, open us again to the overwhelming riches of your grace. Let no uncontrolled passion or stubborn spirit destroy our relationship with you, O Lord.
Loving Father, be especially close to fathers who would model their lives after you. Some fathers have been pushed out of their fathering role by institutions or surrogate parents or by peer and pressure groups. Restore them to their rightful place. Many fathers struggle between what they feel is right and what their children want to do. Give them wisdom and strength. Some fathers, through preoccupation with business or self-interests, neglect their families. Awaken them again to the miraculous gift of life that is within their own household.
Be especially close to those fathers struggling with one crisis or another. Some are just starting family and career and seeking the right direction for living. Some are in a mid-life crisis, wondering about their identity, whether they should change jobs or divorce or drop out. Others, the grandfathers, struggle with loneliness and a philosophical wistfulness. Give each of your fathers the strength and wisdom he needs for the living of these days. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The story of the Prodigal Son needs little introduction to most Americans. It is a masterpiece known nearly by memory by millions. Some have called it the world's greatest short story. It could well be, for in a few short verses it summarizes so many of the essential truths of life.
It may be, however, the parable should be renamed "The Parable of the Loving Father." The focus in the popular mind often has been on the Prodigal. Yet the story really says most about the nature of father love and the nature of God's love.
While the story, like a priceless, well-cut diamond, can be examined from a variety of angles to see newly refracted light, let us turn this gem-like story toward the father to examine the light it sheds on fatherhood.
When the father in this story loves prodigals and others, what qualities of character does he demonstrate? What does he teach us about God? And what is the true nature of fatherhood as suggested by this story?
I.
Note first that this father allowed his son to be free.
When the son asks for his share of the family estate (which would be about one-third of the total), the father doesn't argue with him. Nor does he coerce him into staying home. He allows the son to make an anti-family decision, and an anti-family-fortune decision. As a son he has certain inheritance rights, and the father grants him freedom even to use those rights inappropriately.
The son has the freedom to think selfishly. Give me my share, he says to his father. And then he sets off for the big city in a far country to get away from home and family and traditions. He is off to do his own thing, to be himself, to live without family restraint or traditional inhibitions. His profligacy was demonstrated in both financial squandering and moral philandering.
Many fathers identify with this story because it has some resemblance to a son going off to college and using a sizeable amount of the family income to party, to behave immorally, and to waste life. Or it could be the son that drops out, heads for the Greenwich Villages and the Haight Ashburys to live off Dad's monthly check. There are many versions of the story.
But note that in this story, the father gave the son his freedom. He did not chase after his son. Now of legal age, his son had decided to take what was coming to him and to leave. Even though the separation was painful, even though it was a blow at a loving father's heart, he let him go and did not pursue him, even after they had received no word for a long time.
However, notice this. Allowing the son freedom to fail also allows the son freedom to come to himself, to find himself, to discover who he is and what he wants out of life. The time comes in every family when the parents must learn to let go, to allow their children to venture on their own, even at the risk of failure or pain. A father who stifles his son's freedom when he comes of age is often as troublesome as a son who misuses his freedom. The wise father will let his son go, knowing that only in freedom will he find himself.
It was in the far country, after he was penniless and therefore friendless, that the young man came to himself. He finally discovered who he was -- not just a young man seeking his freedom and independence. His self-discovery was far deeper than that. He discovered he was a sinner; that he was his father's son who only deserved to be a hired servant, if even that.
A man comes to himself when he can say, "What a fool I've been," when he can own up to his faults and transgressions, when he can see in perspective his selfishness and willfulness. A man comes to himself when he recognizes his sin against the father -- not just the father on earth, but as well his Father in heaven. A generation comes to itself when it recognizes the grievous sin of the race and acknowledges its share in it.
It may be that as sons and as a nation we are still prodigal, believing yet in our own innocence as we squander the moral and financial capital of the past. A true sign adolescence has not yet arrived at maturity is the unwillingness to take responsibility for failure as well as success. It is the prodigal mind that claims credit for noble achievement, but blames the environment or circumstances or heredity for defeat. When the son comes to himself, when he accepts responsibility for sin, then he is ready to return to the father as an adult. And the wise father, the wise nation, will give the son, the generation, freedom to come to himself, or itself.
II.
Note secondly that the father practices forgiveness.
And what was the father doing during his son's long absence? He was looking down the road toward the far country, hoping someday his beloved son would make his way back home.
And when that eventful day occurred, when he looked down the road, by now out of habit, only to look again, to wonder, and then with wild excitement to be sure, he ran toward his son, embraced him, and kissed him with great joy.
Notice that the father does not approach his son with a list of legalistic demands. Upon meeting him he does not set forth conditions which he must meet in order to be accepted back into the family. In face of the father's exuberance, the son hardly can get the well-rehearsed "hired servant speech" out of his mouth. Instead he is embraced, kissed, given the finest robe, and told to prepare for a welcome-home party.
We often have overlooked this marvelous father-love in the parable by focusing on the son. We identify with him and enjoy recounting his many sins because they sound a lot like our own. Many of us like the role of the prodigal and sincerely expect the father will welcome us back after we have had our fun, wasting our lives. Consequently, we are not thinking of true repentance, but of pseudo-repentance, a presumptive, manipulative repentance which seeks not to change the self but to change the father. As a result, true forgiveness is never experienced and the glad joy of acceptance and reaffirmation is never known.
If on the one hand the manipulators presume upon the forgiveness of the father, on the other hand the self-righteous legalists presume the sons must always earn forgiveness. Legalists always forget that God's grace is greater than their cumbersome laws and petty traditions. The prophet Ezekiel said for God long ago, "As I live, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live" (Ezekiel 33:11). Legalists always want the prodigals to get their due reward for their wickedness, partly because the legalists resent the good time had by prodigals, and partly because they do not recognize it is by grace we all are saved.
The elder son, self-centered and legalistic, found it difficult to forgive. He refers to the prodigal as your son, rather than as my brother. But the father does not say my son, but your brother. Brothers have no real grounds for self-righteousness. They also are to practice forgiveness. The father's grief over his son's separation and sin is now changed to overwhelming gratitude. But the older brother, who never really grieved the loss of his brother, now resented his return.
God is like the father of this story. As one unknown poet has put it:
Who so draws nigh to God one step through doubtings dim,
God will advance a mile in blazing light to him.
When we come down the road home toward the father with true repentance in our hearts, he comes out in joy to meet us, to receive us back, to throw a welcome-home party, and to accept us again for who we are -- his son or daughter. How can we earthly fathers do anything less?
III.
Thirdly, the loving father of this story expects faithfulness from both sons, and then rewards it.
The older son stayed home and served his father well, but more out of a sense of joyless duty than out of grateful love. The father did not deprive the older son of what was rightfully his, for even legalists have certain rights and rewards.
But the love exchanged between father and elder son was less intense than that between father and prodigal son. The prodigal knew what it was to be lost and then to be found, to be dead, and then alive; to be in poverty and friendless, and then to enjoy the abundance and acceptance of his father's household.
The elder son tended to take for granted his opportunities and privileges. The father accepted him and loved him, but wished he would loosen up a little, exhibit a little more feeling, rather than the tight-lipped devotion to duty for duty's sake. The loving father is aware that heavier demands often are placed on the oldest and even that parents learn their child-raising techniques on the oldest. Yet the oldest ought to realize the special privileges they have because of their position and the honor that often is given to them. The elder brother ought to rejoice in his father's reward for his faithfulness, rather than be consumed in resentment toward his brother.
The father has a certain love for the younger son's adventurous spirit, his desire to get out from under the domination of his older brother, and his willingness to travel and take risks. But he laments his reckless flamboyance, his wastefulness, his complete lack of appreciation for the value of a dollar.
Even so, the father does not give the elder son's inheritance to the younger son. The father declares his love for his son and acknowledges his faithfulness. Everything I have will be yours. You have earned it. It will come to you.
And the prodigal is expected to work after the parties are over. As Ernest Campbell is fond of saying, the prodigal cannot expect to keep going around the farm a year later saying, "I'm back. I'm back." Most likely the other people, including the father, will say, "Yes, yes, you're back. But for God's sake, pick up a hoe and help us with this work."
And the truly repentant prodigal will do just that. He will agree with biblical scholar C. H. Dodd that the immense energy of the religious life is rooted in a moment of passivity in which God acts to forgive us and accept us as his own. Once back in the Father's family, we are expected to behave in a manner befitting the family. It is not the family's duty to adapt to the behavior of the prodigal. It is the prodigal's duty to adapt to the behavior of the family.
Thus today we fathers are called upon to imitate as best we can the ways of our heavenly Father. Our children must have freedom to become themselves. And when they return in true repentance, they must be gladly forgiven. And elder sons must be rewarded for their faithfulness, and prodigals must be expected to do the father's will.
Prayer
Almighty God, our Father, as your children on spaceship earth, we come into your presence to acknowledge you as our Divine Parent. You have created us in your own image bringing us forth from the dust of the earth, giving us a bit of your Mind, placing within us the spark of life and the gift of your Spirit.
We confess that often we have refused to acknowledge you as Father. In childish tantrums or adolescent rebellion we have repudiated our dependence upon you. Or as we have gained in knowledge and power we have become inflated with conceit and have thought ourselves sufficient for all things. Or as life has become harsh or full of trouble, we sometimes become cynical or indifferent to the deeper issues, bored with existence and its complexities. We confess that we often lose the sense of wonder and awe in our self-pity or smallness of mind and heart.
Father in heaven, we ask your help and forgiveness. If like prodigal sons and daughters, we have been in a far country wasting our lives in riotous living, bring us home again to you and to true life. Or if like elder brothers and sisters, we have remained home, but with legalistic piety and hardness of heart, open us again to the overwhelming riches of your grace. Let no uncontrolled passion or stubborn spirit destroy our relationship with you, O Lord.
Loving Father, be especially close to fathers who would model their lives after you. Some fathers have been pushed out of their fathering role by institutions or surrogate parents or by peer and pressure groups. Restore them to their rightful place. Many fathers struggle between what they feel is right and what their children want to do. Give them wisdom and strength. Some fathers, through preoccupation with business or self-interests, neglect their families. Awaken them again to the miraculous gift of life that is within their own household.
Be especially close to those fathers struggling with one crisis or another. Some are just starting family and career and seeking the right direction for living. Some are in a mid-life crisis, wondering about their identity, whether they should change jobs or divorce or drop out. Others, the grandfathers, struggle with loneliness and a philosophical wistfulness. Give each of your fathers the strength and wisdom he needs for the living of these days. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
