What makes a great father? How do we as men answer that without feeling a little anxious?
The traditional answers involve talking about a father who provides for his family. One who works hard. One who teaches his child to ride a bike or throw a football. One who demonstrates what is right and what is wrong by living out good principles.
Many of us would like to include the role of spiritual leader in the home. Someone who walks like Jesus, shares their faith, and prays with and for his children.
I don’t know about you, but this standard is pretty high for me. I feel like I need a “do over” when it comes to being a dad. There are definitely things I could have done better with my children.
Here’s a more difficult question: How does a father show his love for his children when those children make bad decisions?
I see a lot of good dads among our young men. Many of you are seen holding your toddlers on Sunday morning. You are involved in the care and protection of your young ones. Guys, you are doing great and you look like model dads. It’s easy to look like a successful dad when your children are obedient, respectful, and going to Sunday school willingly.
But what happens when they grow up and reject your values? What happens when they ignore your advice? What do you do when they grow up and walk away from everything you taught them to believe? How do you respond when they walk away from faith in Jesus?
Today we want to explore a different angle of what some have called “the Greatest Story Ever Told,” the Parable of the Lost Son. But we want to focus on the father in the parable. Jesus spends a lot of time describing the father’s response to his wayward son and in so doing shows us a picture of how a father loves his children.
1. A Loving Father Does Not Nurse the Pain
The Parable of the Prodigal Son or the Lost Son is well known. You have heard it dozens of times. Have you considered the father’s perspective in this story?
The man in the parable has two sons. One could be labeled “rebellious” and the other “resentful.” The younger son has apparently had enough of living under his father’s house and wants out. He wants to be free. So, he says to his father, “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me,” (12).
Now, given that there are only two sons, a third of the estate would go to the younger son. Jesus’ listeners would nevertheless have been shocked. A son does not ask for his inheritance while the father is still living. In a culture of honor-shame in the ANE, what the son does here is shameful. There are several ways that this pain is manifested for the father.
First, there is the pain of personal rejection. With the son asking for his inheritance, he is basically saying to his dad, “I wish you were dead.”
Second, there is the pain of a rejected heritage. Inheritance in the ANE is usually land that has been in the family for generations. But the son pressures the father to sell his share of the land for cash.
With the rejection of heritage, the father also feels the pain of rejected values. We see this in the reckless manner in which the son goes off to a distant land of foreign gods and customs and spends his money.
Finally, the father feels the pain of humiliation because the son’s rejection does not happen in secret. Everyone knows the son made the father sell property. And while the son is partying, the father bears the shame as the community questions his parenting skills.
Why did Jesus tell this story of the rebel son? Well, the Pharisees were grumbling about how Jesus mingled with tax collectors and sinners (15:1-2). In other words, they expected Jesus to show a little tough love on the rebels and renegades. But Jesus wanted to show them the kind of love the Father has for people no matter the pain they caused him. In fact, if the Lost Son represents the rebels and renegades, the older son who stays home and grudgingly obeys represents the judgy Pharisees. And the father in the parable loves both the rebel and the resentful son.
What we see in this long-suffering father is a willingness to suffer the pain of both sons. He does not rehearse the pain caused by either son but pours out his love on both. We all know the temptation to relive the wounds our children inflict on us. We could replay the hurt. We revisit the disappointment. The pain begins to identify us, to shape our attitude if we let it. This father refuses to let pain identify him.
2. A Loving Father is a Merciful Father
After a time of reckless living, the son is broke and starving. This wakes him up to the reality of his homelife. He comes up with a plan. He will go home to his father and say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants,” (18-19).
I think it is important to recognize that this is not a full repentance. The son is desperate and hungry. Evangelical tradition has always emphasized how the son “came back.” But we diminish the full power of grace shown to the son if we even hint at his action of returning as assisting grace. After all, he thinks to himself he can pay off his debts by working.
It is here that we want to note the father’s response:
First, his father “saw him.” Imagine the father standing on the rooftop of his house every day looking down the road to see if his son is coming. Every. Day. It is as if he knows his son will soon exhaust his lifestyle. He also has an inner conviction that his son will return. So, he waits.
It may be a critical move that he sees his son before the community does. They will not show mercy to the boy. In ancient Israel there is a ceremony for cutting off rebels called kezazah. When a boy shames his family, the community holds a kezazah. If the boy returns without the money he took from his father, the community may kill him. So, the father watches.
When the father saw him, he “felt compassion.” Not wrath or malice. Not a compulsion to throttle his neck. No “I told you so” lectures. But mercy and tenderness. He sees his boy in rags, his bloodied feet, his dirty appearance, and feels nothing but deep care for his son. He could have said, “I could care less,” but instead says, “I couldn’t care more.” Even the stench of the pigpen does not deter the father.
Breaking all conventions for a proper gentleman, the father “ran.” When you reach a certain age and station as a man of means, you never run. It is undignified. This father doesn’t care. He runs. He picks up his robes and humiliates himself before the community and runs! Perhaps he is deflecting the crowd’s attention off of his son and onto himself. More likely, love compels him to rush to greet his lost boy.
And finally, chest heaving for lack of oxygen after running 50 feet, the father “embraced and kissed him.” The son hasn’t said anything yet; he barely has a chance. His speech is smothered by the father’s love, he is so overjoyed to see his son, to have him back. Can you imagine just delighting in your children simply because they came home? Even when they have not asked for forgiveness? Can you imagine gushing over your child knowing they still think your values are out of date? This is overwhelming grace.
3. A Loving Father is a Prodigal Father
The term “prodigal” is often applied to the “Lost Son” in Jesus’ parable. It fits considering the lifestyle he chose. But “prodigal” does not mean “rebellious” as such; it means “to spend money freely or extravagantly.” It can even infer recklessness.
The “lost son” was prodigal in his spending on luxuries and pleasures. But we could also say that the father was prodigal in a lavish outpouring of love on this son. What makes this love outstanding is that the father never lets the son give his speech. The son barely squeaks out his intro while being enveloped in the father’s embracing arms. You can imagine the son being squeezed while speaking, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, I am no longer worthy to be called your son…” (21). The father pays little attention to the prepared speech because he is already thinking “restoration” for his son. Love like this ignites true repentance in the son.
If the father truly is prodigal in his display of love, we see it in his prodigious response to his son’s condition. Some have gleaned meaning in each expression:
The kiss expressed the father’s forgiveness. Regardless of the stench and filth, the father kisses his son.
He places a robe on his son’s back. This visible symbol demonstrates how the son is restored to the whole community. “He is my son again,” the father declares. He wears dad’s colors.
“Put a ring on his hand,” the father commands. Authority is given to the son in this ring, like a key to the city.
And shoes for his feet? Slaves go barefoot, but a freeman wears shoes.
Finally, the father throws a feast. If you notice in the preceding parables – when the lost sheep is found or when the lost coin is discovered – there is celebration, there is rejoicing. Here too the father wants the whole community to celebrate the “resurrection” of this dead son lost to the world and found again. Through love, the father gives the son his life back.
And what of the other son? He hears the partying and music and says, “What the heck? I worked hard for dad. I lived by the rules. And what do I get? Nothing.” He is resentful and bitter. To him it is not fair that his wayward brother should be so celebrated. And so, the father has another fire to put out in the home. In this picture, Jesus is inviting the religious to celebrate restoration of the sinner.
Notice that the father in Jesus’ story is a perfect picture of God’s love, and still, one son rebels and the other resents him. Good parenting does not guarantee faithful children. And to be honest, our job as parents is not to control our children’s choices but to be faithful in loving them like Jesus does – lavishly.
The trio of parables Jesus told were a response to the criticism of Jesus that he hung out with sinners and ate with them. Who then, was the shepherd looking for a lost sheep? Who was the woman looking for her coin? And who was the father looking down the road for his son to come home? Jesus, of course. He is the One who loves for loves’ sake. He is the inspiration for loving those who are lost, even our children.
The father in Jesus’ parable is a picture of God’s own love. He is patient. He is merciful. He is generous. He is faithful. He is what we want in a father. And yet, one son leaves home and lives a wild life. The other stays home and grows bitter. Consider this: Even perfect fathering does not produce perfect children.
Sometimes we parents carry a burden that God never intended. We feel deeply the choices our children make and we immediately blame ourselves for not teaching them better. If only we were more strict, prayed more, been a better example, etc. Perhaps. But if this story teaches us anything, it reminds us that parents are responsible for one thing: to be faithful in loving our children.
The late Joe Bayly was a gentle, godly Christian leader. He once told how one of his sons rebelled back in the days of the hippie movement, back in the 60s or 70s. He grew his hair long and moved into a communal flophouse. Late one night, Bayly received a call informing him that his son was being held at one of the Chicago police stations. He got out of bed, got dressed and went down to the station, but they had no record of his son being there. He made the rounds to several police stations before he realized that the call had been a prank.
Even though it was about 2 a.m., before he went home Bayly went to the flophouse where his son was living. He went in (the door was always unlocked), stepped over several sleeping bodies strewn on the floor, and found his son asleep on his bed. He gently bent over and kissed his son on the cheek before he went home to bed.
When Bayly told the story, he said that his son was now a pastor. Years later, the young man told his father, “Dad,do you know what turned me around?” Bayly said, “No, son.” His son said, “It was that night you came into my room and kissed me. You thought that I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I thought, ‘If my dad loves me that much, I had better get my life right with God.’”
As a dad, I wish I could back and do some things differently. But our hope is not found in becoming perfect fathers. Our hope is that we can point our children to the perfect Father in heaven. And sometimes the most Christlike thing a father can do is not have the right answers, but simply to keep loving.
AMEN
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