Title: The Confession of a Prodigal
Bible Book: Luke 15 : 11-24
Author: Frank Page
Subject: The Prodigal Son; Forgiveness
Objective:
Introduction
I love the following story.
Walking downtown, I passed an elderly couple holding hands. Utterly charmed, I commented on how delightful it was to see them being so tender at their age. "I've been holding her hand when we go out for over 30 years," the man told me. "I have to. If I let go, she shops."
I love that story! The truth is, it points out the propensity that humans have for straying and wandering off. Unfortunately, some of our straying and wandering off is far worse than a shopping trip. It involves a straying into territory that is very harmful and hurtful. It leads to a condition of being lost. While this may not mean lost regarding salvation, it can mean lost in regards to the work of our Lord.
Being lost...we talked about this a few Sundays ago. There are many ways one can be lost. We can be lost in the sense of salvation or we can be lost to service in God's kingdom. There are many ways. Let us be careful today to let God speak to us regarding our status before Him.
Our Scripture for today is a famous one. It is often called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. You remember it. He is the boy who left home. He is one of the best-known characters in the literature of the world. I dare say that he has been preached about, to, and at, more than any other single human being in the Bible.
Yet, in spite of that, this familiarity does not take away from the relevance of the story. It is just as fresh as ever. To this day, it is one of the most tender and beautiful stories ever told. It appeals to everyone. It has something to say to every one of us, regardless of the stage we have reached in our spiritual pilgrimage.
Read with me Luke 15:11-24. We must first ask ourselves...
I. Why Did This Young Fellow Go Into The Far Country
It was not because he got up on the wrong side of the bed one morning and came to the desperate conclusion that he would go out and wreck himself. This young fellow was not a monstrosity. He was not in the least abnormal. He was exceedingly like you and me. He had no more eagerness to wreck himself than we have. He had no more thought, when he set out upon his adventure that seemed so full of promise, of landing in the hog pen than you and I have. In fact, nobody sets out deliberately to wreck himself. Nobody makes up his mind in advance that he is going to fling himself into the garbage can of worthless and waste things. And no boy ever goes out from his father's house with his mind made up that he is going to destroy himself.
No more did this young fellow go into the far country because he wanted to cause pain to some tender heart. He had no desire to spite his father or anyone else. If he gave his father a thought at all, I feel quite sure that he regretted that he took his going away so much to heart. Doubtless he thought him very foolish for doing so. But he was certainly not so vicious as to deliberately desire to wound the kindly man. He certainly did not wish to turn his hair gray before the time, or to make him wet his pillow with midnight tears. Why, then, did he leave? For just one reason. He went away because he was seeking to please himself. He thought he would be more free in the big world beyond the hills. He thought this larger freedom would bring him a larger joy and a better time generally. He was simply bent on living his own life, as so many are still. So intent was he on pleasing himself that he had no thought for any loss or pain that might come to himself or to anyone else. Of course he did wound his father, and very deeply. But this was no part of his purpose. All he was trying to do was just to see life, unhampered by any of the restraints that home authority might put upon him. It is easy to understand him if we read his story in the light of our own experiences.
Each of us can do the same, if we will. One great preached shared a "prodigal" experience in his own life. He said that upon his return his father was delighted to see he was safe. His father, however, did not sacrifice the fatted calf in celebration. Instead, the prodigal's backside was offered up that day.
Think about it. The hurt in the world...our lives...our families...our churches...this hurt has not been done to deliberately cause harm. It is there because we are and have been willing to do whatever is necessary to get what we want. Self-pleasing then is the very essence of sin. It is a deadly, a damning thing.
II. We Must See The Costs
Now, self-pleasing is expensive. Nothing can be more so. He who is bent on pleasing himself is doomed to pay a terrible price. Nor is he the only one that pays. If self-pleasing is my god, it will hurt me. It will also hurt others. No man ever sinned without wounding somebody else. That is true regardless of how secret that sin may be. I may sin and no one knows but God and myself. Yet, even then, I involve others. I rob my own home. I lower the moral temperature of my companions, of my city, and of my world. Sin was costly to this prodigal. He set out upon a quest that seemed to him altogether reasonable and legitimate. He was out for that which vast multitudes are seeking today. He was doing the very thing that many of our modern psychologists look upon with hearty approval. He was flinging away from all restraints, spitting in the face of all inhibitions, and claiming the privilege of the freest self-expression. But before we take a like course, let us examine the cost of his adventure, and see if we are willing to pay the price. What did his self-pleasing cost this prodigal of the long ago?
It cost him the fellowship of his father, and all the joys of home. That is always the case. The moment that self-will becomes the goal of any soul, that moment that soul breaks with God, loses all sense of his fellowship, and becomes a homeless wanderer. To go from God is always to go from the heart's true home. No man is ever at home here or anywhere else except him who can say, "The eternal God is our dwelling place and underneath are the everlasting arms." There is nothing but disappointment and homesickness for any of us till we can sing with the psalmist, "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations."
It cost him his freedom. What tragic irony! For it was his freedom that he went out to seek. "Give me!" He said to his father in the hour of his self-will. When his heart was broken, he said, "Make me!" There is all the difference between these two requests that there is between life and death. But, "Give me!" he said at first. By this, he meant - I must be free, I must do as I please. But the road by which he sought to find freedom led into slavery. "He went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine." "He sent him," that is the word. His own will was not consulted, but the will of another. He did not go, he was sent.
It cost him his very all. The story says that he spent it all. He became morally and spiritually bankrupt. Thank God, few go that far. You know where you are. Do you sense that you are on the road to the far country? Is serving God a task or a joy? Stop now and think about it. What price are you paying...your family...your church?
The boy had to say..."I perish...v.17." Here is a conference that has sobbed its way through the centuries.
III. Let Us See How This Boy Came Home
How did this amazing event come about? The Bible says in v.17 that he came to himself. That means that when he was doing all those wild and foolish things, he was not at himself. In other words, self-will is moral insanity. When we aren't right with Him, we are not being real. We are living a false existence, one in which happiness is elusive. Fulfillment is never found.
This coming to himself means that he not only recovered his sanity, but that having done so, he dared face the facts about himself. He looked the truth frankly in the face. That is always wise. I knew a man once who was suffering from some physical malady, but he would not consult a physician for fear he might tell him that he was afflicted with an incurable disease. How foolish! As if we can destroy a fact by ignoring it. This man dared to take a good look at himself. And looking, this is what he discovered: "I perish with hunger. I am starving to death, and not only so, but I am starving needlessly. How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare?" How foolish to die when the richness of life might be his for the taking!
Having come to himself, he came to a decision. And what a decision it was! Listen to it, "I will arise and reform." No, that is not what he said. Reformation is good, but it is not enough. "I will arise and join the Church." No, joining the Church is altogether right and worthwhile, but joining the Church is not enough. "I will arise and go to work." That, too, is good. Working is altogether right and proper, but the resolution of this pleasure-seeker is more fundamental still. "I will arise and go to my father. I will never stop," he declares, "until I come face to face with God."
Nothing will be right until you come to the Father...nothing at all.
Charles H. Spurgeon never tired of telling the story of how he was saved. He had been trying to save himself by his own works. Then one snowy Sunday morning he wandered into a little chapel and sat down with the few worshipers who were there. The pastor did not show up due to the snow and the sermon was preached by a lay minister who was quite obviously a working man with limited education. That morning the minister preached on the text, "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth" (Isaiah 45:22). At the close of his sermon, after he repeated all that he knew to say about the text, he pointed his long, bony finger at young Spurgeon and said, "Young man, you look miserable. Look! Look unto him, young man! Look unto Jesus, and you will be saved." That morning Spurgeon looked unto Jesus and was saved.
Matthew 11:28 states it this way, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
And, having resolved to go to his father, he further decides to tell him the plain truth about himself. He is going to speak to him out of the memory of his tragic and disappointing yesterdays. Here is what he is going to say, "I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." "I have sinned." That is his confession. That is yours. That is mine. That is every man's confession. If this is not true of you, then I have no gospel for you. If this is not the truth about all of us, then the tragedy of Calvary is nothing more than a blunder.
Having made his decision, he put it into effect. He came home. Isn't this beautiful? The father had been watching and waiting.
Who is the prodigal? He or she may be the wild one. But he is not the only one. The prodigal is anyone living outside of God's perfect will. It is anyone lost to God's way. It is anyone who seeks his own way. Won't you come to the Father?
Never gain, from now till the end of time, can the decision to follow Christ mean as much to you and to others as it will mean now. Therefore, I urge you to make this resolve, "I will arise and go to my Father."
