I find joy in the way shown by your written instructions more than I find joy in all kinds of riches. [Psalm 119:14 (GW)]
It’s March Madness time for basketball fans and my team is already out of the competition. Last year, however, my choice won—but not in basketball. After placing sixteen popular Bible stories in brackets, my preferred Bible resource site had its followers tweet votes for their favorite story to see which one moved forward. The choices were: Esther and the king, Jesus walking on water, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, Joseph and his coat, Jonah and the fish, Noah and the ark, the exodus from Egypt, David and Goliath, Ezekiel and the dry bones, Jericho’s walls, Balaam’s donkey, Daniel and the lion’s den, Jesus healing the blind, Rahab and the spies, and the burning bush. Which would you expect to be the final winner?
Ezekiel and the dry bones didn’t make it past the first round (which I understand since that one sort of creeps me out). Unfortunately, the lovely story of Esther, up against the more familiar parable of the Prodigal Son, was defeated in the first round. In the final round, on one side was the historical account of the young David defeating the giant Goliath. The story is exciting, has danger and violence, and illustrates the supernatural power of God. It’s a tale of a brave young man who demonstrates the power of God with just a sling and a few stones. It tells us that, when we step out in faith, the God we serve can defeat any of the giants in our lives. Everyone loves a story where faith in God beats brute strength and the little guy defeats the big one.
David’s underdog opponent was the parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s a moving story with a not totally happy ending. After the younger son insults his father and foolishly demands his inheritance, he squanders it all. In desperate circumstances, he returns home with his head hanging low and is welcomed by his father. The dark side to the story is that the older son, the one who faithfully remained at his father’s side, is indignant and can’t understand his father’s compassion and forgiveness.
At first glance, David’s defeat of the formidable Philistine would appear to be the favorite. Nevertheless, the undefeatable youth was trounced by the Prodigal Son. When we first meet David, even though he’s young, he seems larger than life. He’s handsome, a skilled musician, and described as having good judgment and being a brave warrior. Among all of Jesse’s sons, he is the one chosen by God to become king. Most of us don’t resemble David nor have we been anointed as a king. We’re not heroic future monarchs, but we are God’s troubled children. As much as we appreciate a story of good triumphing over evil, we can personally relate to Jesus’ parable because we all are God’s prodigal sons.
The parable is a story of hope (the father is waiting at the gate for his son), mercy (the boy is not punished), love (he is hugged and greeted with a kiss), forgiveness (he is welcomed as a son, not a slave) and joy (there’s to be a huge celebration). Like the son, we all disappointed our parents and, if we were blessed with children, they disappointed us at times. Moreover, just as the son misused his father’s money, we have misused the gift of free will and squandered the blessings given us by our heavenly Father. This story reassures us that no matter how immoral, unscrupulous, self-indulgent or corrupt we’ve been, God welcomes his children home when they come with humble and repentant hearts. Once dead because of sin, we can come alive again. Knowing what sinners we are, this demonstration of the Father’s love and forgiveness is reassuring. The parable reminds us that blessings aren’t earned and obedience is not what gives us eternal life. God’s grace is not something we deserve but something He freely gives. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for loving and forgiving your undeserving prodigal children.
Like many, I mistook the phrase, “just deserts” for “just desserts.” The phrase comes from a now obsolete meaning of the word “desert” which was something deserved or merited. However we spell or say it, we tend to take a certain amount of pleasure when our enemies, adversaries, and those people who manage to make our lives difficult or downright miserable get what they deserve. “Poetic justice,” we say while watching them reap the consequences of their actions. Bad attitudes, excess drama, inappropriate behavior, substandard performance, selfishness, pettiness, laziness and insubordination all have a way of catching up with people. It’s hard to have any sympathy for them when they end up in a world of hurt of their own making. Jesus doesn’t tell us we have to be sympathetic but He does say we have to love and pray for them! We don’t have to allow their poison to seep into our lives, make excuses for them, enable them, tolerate horrible behavior, or become embroiled in their drama, but we do have to love and pray!
Last January, an official in a northern city was found guilty of twenty counts of bribery, extortion, and conspiracy along with mail, wire and tax fraud. His crimes netted him over $2 million in ill-gotten gains. Last month, he was sentenced for those crimes and, while he didn’t protest his innocence, he did protest his punishment. His crimes were merely “ethical mistakes” made because he was inexperienced and just doing his job. His lawyer compared his offenses with those of other corrupt officials, asserting his client’s felonies were less criminal so a shorter sentence was in order. In addition, he wasn’t really all that guilty since, in spite of his dishonesty, the city still managed to collect over $700 million in fines from the program he managed. Being just a little guilty, however, is much like being just a little bit pregnant—no matter how you spin it, you’re still guilty or pregnant.
I was right. In fact, I was so right I deserved a gold star and he was so wrong that he should have gotten a big red “F” but he never admitted it. Although I congratulated myself for not saying, “I told you so!” I still wanted him to eat a little humble pie. Then the Holy Spirit did His job and rightly convicted me of being a bit self-righteous and a whole lot mean-spirited. I was reminded of Luther, a man from our church who I called “a disciple of Christ” in a previous devotion. He always greeted people with a smile and the phrase, “Jesus loves you and I do, too.” As I heard Luther’s words in my mind, I stopped in mid-gripe and remembered that Jesus loves my man and I do, too.
