Sermon Tone Analysis

Returning

Psalm 32; Luke 15:1-3,11b-32

 

*      **One of my favorite theologians, Henri Nowen once commented that */"the story of the prodigal son is a story about returning — and that makes it an ideal Lenten parable.

I have come to realize the need for returning over and over again.

My life drifts away from God.

I need to return.

My heart moves away from my first love.

I have to return.

My mind wanders.

I have to return.

Returning is a lifelong struggle that is especially renewed each Lent.”/

*Return is, in the most basic sense, reconciliation.

* Reconciliation with God, reconciliation with each other, but we also must consider that each of us, each individual needs this reconciliation... we NEED to be reconciled with ourselves...

 

          I am reminded of how H.G. Wells described Mr. Polly, a character in one of his books: /"...he was a walking civil war."/

How many people today, even many of us here, could be described in the same way?

*Each day I become more aware of how much self-hatred there is in the world.*

People who, for whatever reason, abuse themselves, despise themselves...some committing suicide outright...others committing suicide slowly through drugs and alcohol...

 

          I have met people who sincerely felt that they had done so many "bad things" in their lives that no one, even God, could love them.

These people often avoid Communion because they feel unworthy, or come to communion as though it is always Good Friday, but never Easter.

There are far too many people who feel that they have to be perfect, to be the best at all they do or no one will value them.

They are perfectionists.

And the only problem is that they never achieve it, so they are seldom, if ever, truly happy with themselves or anyone else.

I have one friend, a perfectionist for sure, who jokes about having a hyphenated last name – which she does… and which she compares to the word /"Anal-Retentive”/ -- which she points out also has a hyphen in it… which she CLAIMS  is truly the biggest problem in her own life.

She says it as a joke, but underneath her joke is a concern about an anal-retentive society…  Where* *we all push ourselves to incredible limits, apply impossible standards to ourselves, and worst of all* *fail to forgive ourselves, where we would forgive the same fault or transgression in another.

Jesus assumes that we will love ourselves.

/"Love your neighbor AS you love YOURSELF,”/ he says.

There IS such a thing as proper self-love.

It’s a good and right thing to have a healthy self-love, a sense of self-worth and value.

/                /Now, if you will, let's go back to that story of the prodigal son we heard earlier -- *The son is returning.*

He’s been /starved/.

He’s /weak/.

He’s /laboring/ just to put one foot in front of the other.

A little cloud of dust rises with each footstep.

But a thousand of those little clouds have come and gone.

And the dust has filled his throat, and nose, and has clogged his eyes.

And yet he drags himself, step by step, toward an uncertain welcome.

/          * If his father was angry enough*/ -- and why shouldn't he have been after what he had said!

Now he could barely believe he did it.

Asking for his share of inheritance – why! it was the same as saying, /'Father, I cannot wait for you to die.'  /The same as saying,  /'Father, would you please drop dead.' * */

* *

*/If, indeed, his Father were angry enough, so hurt /*--

·        *Do you suppose his father performed the ritual which would make him an outcast?*

Had his father stood on the threshold of the house -- smashed a pot -- and declared /"My son is dead, I have no son."?/

 

·        *Would he find himself shunned in the village?* ... Family property lost to Gentiles was a serious matter, and a violation of the whole community.

The townspeople… No one to talk to-- no one would sell him food -- no one would give him shelter. . .

.he shuddered and thought of a  gathering mob. . .

abuse… violence. .

.

*So he comes up over the hill – and there in the distance is the house, the home for which his heart has longed.*

But he’s afraid… terrified actually.

His heart begins to pound, and it seems as if his throat has closed in, he can’t swallow, in fact, he can hardly breathe.

*Oh my!  There’s   someone sitting at the gate...* as he comes over the hill they notice him and they stand up... stand up and shade their his eyes.

/"He will never love me again."/

"/What if I'm an outcast?" "Treat me as a slave, not your son."   /Momentarily the figure at the gate turns and shouts something back toward the house, and then begins to run toward him, -- sandals flopping, robe flapping -- toward him.

*It’s his Father, moving in on him.

*But it can't be -- not /his/ father.

His father is always so proper, so stately, never undignified.

And this figure is hurtling pell-mell down the lane.

What does it mean?

Was his father calling for help to repel the intruder, the outcast, the unwelcome?

*  Maybe he should run the other direction…But, he couldn't; he was too tired.

* So he just stood there as the old man drew near, and he said his speech silently to himself one more time, hoping that his words might somehow reach a soft spot in his father's heart.

/"Father, I have sinned against God and against you.

I'm not just bewildered...

I am truly lost.

Will you let me come home not as a son, but as a servant?"/

By the time he had finished the question in his mind, he found himself encircled in his father's arms, his father pressing him to his chest in an embrace so tight and so long it leaves him dizzy.

And his father -- touching his arms and his face, as if to insure that wasn’t a ghost, a figment of a mind half-crazed with yearning and worry.

The young man slumps into his father's arms.

For the moment, at least, all of his worries are gone.

No matter what else happens, he is home, and he’s in his father's arms.

Now he can rest -- he is home.

*When the son could finally breathe again, he started his speech.*

/"Father, I have sinned, sinned against God and against you.

I can't be a son to you any more; I don't deserve it after what I have done.

But could you, would you take me on as a hired hand?"  /His father didn’t even answer him, Yes or No.  Instead, the old man turned to the servants encircling them and gave a series of quick orders.

/"Robe!

Ring!

Shoes for his feet!

Butcher the show calf and fire up the barbecue!

Celebrate!

My son!  My son lives!

My son who was dead has come back to ~*live~* among us.

My son who was lost has finally been found!"/

*/Isn't it amazing?

No criticism.

No blaming.

No recrimination./*

No /"I-told-you-so," /or /"I-hope-you-have-learned-your-lesson, young man./"

-- Only superlative joy over the return.

* Reconciliation is what God wants more than anything -- lost sons to come home;  lost daughters to be found;  bewildered offspring to come to themselves and turn homeward once again to claim God's welcome.*

For those of us who have been estranged from a parent or from someone we love, and then reconciled – well, this story has deep, deep meaning, earned in hard experience.

This is a beginning -- there will be hard work rebuilding the relationship -- but to fall into the arms of someone you love -- someone who has raised and nurtured you or  been with you over thick and thin, -- this represents a special kind of coming home.

*I am always moved by the fact that the father didn't require any motivation.

*His love was so total and unconditional that he received his son back whatever his motivation.

This is a very encouraging thought.

It tells me that God doesn’t demand a pure heart before embracing us.

1)  Even if we return only because following our desires has failed to bring happiness, God will take us back.

2)  Even if we return because drifting has brought us less peace than being faithful, God will take us back.

3)  Even if we return because our sins didn’t offer as much satisfaction as we had hoped, God will take us back.

God's love doesn’t ask /any/ questions.

God is just glad to see us home and wants to give us what we need, just because.