Previous article in this series: August 2025, p. 412

No doubt, the prodigal son desired fresh clothes and a warm meal. This was, in fact, at least in part, what had contributed to his desire to return home, even as he himself expressed this. Surely, though, his great desire was to once again feel and experience the love of his father. However, for the experience of that love, it was necessary for him to know that his father had forgiven him. As we have seen, in the end it was the knowledge of his sin by the work of the Holy Spirit in his heart that had driven him to his senses and turned his eyes toward home in repentance and the desire for forgiveness and reconciliation.

And yet, repentant though he was, in his desire that his father forgive him, this young man still had an especially important lesson to learn, and we with him. The forgiveness for which he so longed and desired, and which his father would in time grant him, would not, could not, be gained by anything he did or said. His father’s forgiveness was not dependent on how humbly he presented himself to him, nor was it dependent on the eloquence of his words or the number of tears that he shed. The forgiveness for which he so longed was a complete and absolute act of undeserved mercy on the part of his father. The man who now embraced him and wept for joy at his return knew his sin. Not only did he know the sin of the young man in taking his portion and leaving his home and family to flee the rule of his father, but he knew too the vile sins he had committed in the squandering of that portion. One look at the son and his wretched condition would have told all.

But his father does not recoil in disgust or even keep him at arm’s length to look down his nose at him. He embraces him. And still more, he does not even let the young man finish his carefully thought-out words of confession and repentance before interrupting him to give commands to his servants. Take note of the words of the son and those of his father in verses 21-24 of Luke 15: “And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.” Surely, the father heard the words that the young man spoke, but you see, beloved, before the young man had finished speaking he had already forgiven him. The father knew him to be repentant, not simply from his words, but especially from his desire to return home in humility. And remember, the father in the parable is a picture of God Himself, who certainly knows the heart, and the heart of the young man is what really mattered. True repentance is never simply a matter of the outward, but it is always a matter of the heart, and without true repentance of the heart, the young man would not, for all his desire, be able to experience the love and forgiveness of his father. On the contrary, his would be the experience of David, who expresses his wretched state, likely as he lived in unrepentance after his sin with Bathsheba and before God sent Nathan the prophet to confront him with his sin. What was that wretched state? David describes it in Psalm 32:3-5, “When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”

Not only then was the father’s embrace of his son  one of love, but in that love, it was also an embrace of forgiveness. Yes, the son knew that his father loved him. No doubt, anguished words expressing that love had likely been the very last words uttered by the father as this son turned his back on him in rebellion. The father’s love was also evidenced in his constant watching, in his running to meet his son, and certainly in his embrace. And yet, knowledge of love is not the same as the experience of that love. It was only after having truly repented of his sin that this wayward son could now truly experience the love that he knew his father had for him. Although words of love and forgiveness were surely uttered by the father, it was the feeling of his father’s arms around him holding him tight and the warm tears that no doubt fell onto his face as his father kissed him that really gave the young man the assurance that he had been forgiven and received once again. It is only through that forgiveness of his father that he will be able to truly experience his love and to find any kind of reconciliation. It was only in love that he was truly forgiven, and it was only in that forgiveness that he knew true love.

Having forgiven his wayward son, the father now restores him to his former place in his house. Notice the distinct difference between the reaction of the man to whom the young man had joined himself in the far away country and that of his father. His father welcomed him with open arms and tears of joy. He clothed him, not with rags but with the best clothes. And he does not simply command the servants to bring his son a bowl of soup or a piece of bread, but he instructs them to bring the fatted calf, something that was only done for special occasions, which surely this was.

Let us suppose for a moment though that a son or daughter of our own congregation, rather than heeding the command of the gospel, hears and heeds instead the siren song of the world. Let us further suppose that the young man or woman, despite the pleadings of father, mother and family, and despite the diligent and faithful work of the pastor and elders, leaves the church and turns their back on family and friends. Over the ensuing years the congregation becomes aware through various means, of the vile and sinful life that the man or woman lives, including but not limited to, the abuse of drugs and alcohol, sexual sins of every sort, and even time in prison as the result of some of these sins.

But then one day, by the grace of God having been brought to his senses, even as the prodigal son in the parable, that man or woman returns to their family and to the church having hit bottom and seen and confessed their sins. How, beloved, would we receive them? Would our reaction be that of the father of the prodigal son? Would we run to them as we saw them approaching the church building, take them in our arms, and with tears, rejoice that God had turned their heart? Would we, as the friends and household of the man did, gather in rejoicing and feasting in celebration of the wonder working of God’s grace and mercy in the heart and life of that man or woman? Or, and let us be brutally honest with one another, is it more likely the case that ours would be the reaction of the elder brother in the parable?

He had missed all the initial excitement of the return of his younger brother because, as was the case every day, he had been busy in the field, laboring for his father, much unlike his younger brother. Imagine his surprise when, upon his return at the end of the day, he found a great celebration. Immediately he is set on edge because, although he was the eldest son and therefore held a prominent place in this household, he had not been informed of the celebration, nor had he even been invited. Rather than seeking it out for himself, he asks a servant what the meaning of it all was and upon hearing the reason for the excitement and celebration, the true colors of the elder son shown through. Rather than being filled with joy, he was filled with jealousy, pride, and disgust.

The words of the elder son to his father in verses 29 and 30 of Luke 15 are telling: “Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.” All these years I have done everything right. I have served you faithfully and done all that you have asked me to do, and I have done it well. Never have I wandered off and done the horrible things that this sinner has done. Where is my reward? What do I get for all my faithful service and dedication? Never mind my motivation or the true condition of my heart.

Let us make this more personal. When we see that man or woman who has been reconciled to the church, what do we say, if not out loud, then in our own hearts? After all that they have done, how can they expect to just waltz back into the fellowship of the family and of the church? Do they—and I know the horrific sins they have committed—think that just like that, they can have the salvation that I have? I have been a faithful member of the church all my life and have given myself over to serving the church, and yet no one has ever shown this joyful affection for me. I have never received the recognition for doing good works that this vile sinner is now enjoying. And the list can go on and on.

Sadly, as it was with the elder brother, so often it is with us. We so quickly fall into the sin of pridefully looking at our own works and attributing our standing to those works rather than the amazing and merciful grace of God. With our mouths we confess that our works merit us nothing when it comes to salvation, but in our hearts, we want to hold on to the lie that in some way, those works must be good for something. Surely, I am a better person than that sinner and therefore, more deserving of salvation.

The answer of the father to his eldest son in Luke 15:31-32 is exactly what you and I need to hear too: “And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.” He was dead! The prodigal son had been unable to do anything to merit the forgiveness of his father. In fact, everything he had done made it impossible for him to be forgiven. This was the case for the eldest son, and it is the case for every believer as well. Apart from Christ and His meritorious work on the cross that was erected atop Calvary, all that we do merits only the wrath of God. It is only by the grace of God manifest in His love for us in His Son Jesus Christ that we are made alive again.

But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus: That in the ages to come he might shew the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast (Eph. 2:4-9).

There are many things that the parable of the prodigal son and the two preceding parables in Luke 15 have in common, but one that stands out is joy. Yes, there is joy with friends and family in the finding of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the return of the prodigal son. But there is also joy in heaven. Stop and take a moment to consider and ponder the wonder of that! In the repentance of one sinner, the angels rejoice (Luke 15:10).

Is this your reaction and is it my reaction when one who was lost is found once again? Do we, with gracious joy, mercifully receive those who we know have shown true repentance over their sin? Do we embrace them, in unconditional love and joy, knowing the vile and despicable nature of their sin, which is no different from our own inclinations? Or—and may God graciously forbid it—is our response that of the elder brother of the prodigal son? Beloved saints, if the angels rejoice, certainly we should too! May God make it so.