A crisis of what we believe

It’s kind of a crisis. Hidden, perhaps. But it affects more of us than we realize. 

Or maybe it’s better said this way: the crisis that afflicts our thinking about God remains more or less unacknowledged in church spaces because we do not even recognize such ideas are open for re-imagination. 

We simply assume it’s just the way things are and have always been, that what we think about God is fait accompli. There isn’t much we can do about it. 

And it certainly doesn’t help that a lot of our preaching reinforces this way of thinking.

So what’s this crisis then? 

Simply this: too many of us believe, very profoundly and from the depths of our being, that we are not worthy of God’s love. That God somehow ‘loves’ us despite ourselves. 

And we think this is right, that this is good theology. And whether we actively name it or ever say it out loud, we believe it without much critical reflection—and this belief shapes everything about us. It distorts our relationship with God and colors our relationship with ourselves and everyone in our circle of care.

But this way of thinking isn’t true and never has been. In fact, it is the very opposite of true. It couldn’t be less true. There isn’t even a smidgen of it that’s true. 

God's love for us 

When it comes to God’s love, our worth isn’t based on our actions, good or bad. It’s all about God, all about God’s love for us. And that’s God’s choice. 

This past Sunday at Mercy, we talked about the parable of the prodigal son. 

Others besides myself have suggested this story might more aptly be called the parable of the prodigal father. Sure, prodigal can mean excessive in a wasteful sense, like the younger son exhausting his inheritance. 

But prodigal can also mean excessive in a lavish sense, like the loving embrace of the father when his son finally returns and the abundant welcome home feast he organizes to celebrate. 

We should rethink prodigality.

The parable Jesus narrates isn’t really about a father and his two sons—and their complex relationship dynamics. The parable is about how God radically—and with an excessive lavishness—loves all human beings.

The Pharisee's criticism

The story is told—along with two others, the one about the lost sheep and the one about the lost coin—in response to a pretty harsh criticism leveled at Jesus by the Pharisees. The Pharisees didn’t much care for the fact that ‘tax collectors and sinners’ were welcomed by Jesus with wide-open arms—and that he feasted with them at a common table. 

The connections with the parable of the prodigal son are pretty obvious, aren't they?

Two stories

But before Jesus gets to our lectionary main feature, he tells those two other powerful stories to set the tone. What struck me this time around as we worked through the gospel in our community is how the value of both the lost sheep and lost coin are determined by those who seek them. 

The shepherd leaves a flock of ninety-nine to embark on a risky search for one sheep lost in the wild. Likewise, we find a woman tearing her house apart, top to bottom, obsessed with finding just a single coinshe has lost, even though nine others are safely in her possession. 

Both the shepherd and the woman determine the value of what they have lost. And they can’t-stop-won’t-stop until they find it. Their behavior could be criticized as excessive, over-the-top, out of control—in fact, they go even further and call friends over for a party afterward just to celebrate. 

But for them, finding what they have lost is worth it. Their love is prodigal.

The parable of the prodigal 

After that set up, we realize the parable of the lost son isn’t about the son’s decision to return home as much as it is about the father who never stopped waiting for him. 

Like the shepherd looking high and low for the lost sheep or the woman overturning her home in a frantic search, the father sees his son coming home from ‘a long way off’ and throws every vestige of his dignity as a respected elder aside and goes running to meet him. He embraces him and kisses him before the son even has a chance to say he’s sorry. 

That’s because what his son means to him—his value, his worth—is determined by the father’s heart and the father’s heart alone. It isn’t about what the son did or did not do. The love of the prodigal parent is all that matters.

What it means for us 

Now, I’m not saying this is the only meaning of the parable of the lost, prodigal son—there is so much beauty and craft in Jesus’ (and Luke’s) story-telling that I would never make that claim. 

But it is the meaning I’m holding onto this Lent: the truth that God loves us—lavishly, abundantly, foolishly, recklessly, and yes, prodigally. 

We are worthy of such love for no other reason than that God has chosen to love us. Period. End of story. Only the love of our prodigal God matters.

Our objections 

As an experienced pastor and seasoned preacher, I can already hear a thousand objections some might raise to this simple, unvarnished but wondrously radical, proclamation. I’ve encountered them so often that such objections no longer surprise me. 

We humans have a hard time letting go of our ideas about God. We have a hard time accepting that God loves us so embarrassingly. 

It upsets us, just like it upsets the elder son in the story and the Pharisees in the crowd. We like our rules. We like our order. We like the way we assume things have always been.

It gives us a strange kind of comfort, even if it’s cruel. 

Even if it’s not actually the truth about God.

An invitation

But I’m not writing to answer all those objections. I’m not here for debate. 

This is just a truth that as a pastor I need to tell. I need to tell it for myself, sure. 

But I tell it mostly for you, beloved—especially if you’ve ever imagined yourself unworthy of such lavish love, of such radical acceptance. 

God most surely and unrepentantly loves you. And like an old fool who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, God is running head-long to embrace you.

Maybe, just for today, accept that love. 

You’re worth it.

Rethinking Prodigality

by Pastor Chad Hyatt

"But the father said to his servants,
‘Quick! Bring the best robe 
and put it on him.
Put a ring on his finger 
and sandals on his feet. 
Bring the fattened calf
and kill it.
Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 
For this son of mine was dead
and is alive again; 
he was lost and is found.’
So they began to celebrate."

LUKE 15:22-24