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The Parenthood Fear Factor Luke 15: 1 – 24 |
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Summary
The Parenthood Fear Factor This is not Father’s Day, but the parable of The Prodigal Son is as much about the prodigal’s father as it is about the prodigal himself. It reminds me of a Father’s Day gift booklet I saw once that was on the theme “A Father’s Love.” On one of the first pages, it said, “A father’s love makes us feel so safe and secure ....” No doubt all responsible fathers hope that their love for their children does help their kids feel so secure that their young lives are not burdened by anxiety over their safety. While mothers no doubt want that for their children as well, there is something about manhood that tends to make fathers feel personally responsible for the security and protection of their children. One way to generalize the difference is that when someone hurts one of our children, a mother’s first instinct is to comfort the child and a father’s first instinct is to confront the perpetrator. That’s why, when things happen to remind fathers of things they cannot protect their children from, it can be devastating. A little over a year ago, Roxana Saberi, a 32-year-old Iranian-American journalist, was arrested in Iran and charged with spying for the United States, a charge both she and the U.S. government soundly denied. She was sentenced to eight years in prison, but was released after three months. But during the months she was in prison, her father went to Iran to seek her release and vowed to not leave until that happened. When he talked to the American press he spoke of how worried he was about her, saying that he feared she had become suicidal. He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Clearly, he was deeply anxious about his daughter’s well-being. The real fear factor A few years ago there was television program called Fear Factor. It was a so-called game show in which contestants had to do stunts like allow two dozen snakes to crawl over them or dive into a tank with live alligators or eat disgusting materials like poached pig guts. The show’s website included a sound clip that said, “Imagine a place where your greatest fears become reality.” Right. But let’s get real. For parents who love their children, things like swimming with alligators or eating something that makes you gag is nothing compared to the fear that something bad will happen to one of their children. For mothers and fathers, that’s the real fear factor, and it doesn’t go away when their children reach adulthood. We pastors who have sat in hospital waiting rooms with parents while their children were undergoing emergency surgery to save their lives have witnessed the real fear factor. And we who have talked with parents whose teenage or adult children are in prison have seen genuine parental agony.
In one of her books, the late Erma Bombeck published a
letter from a parent whose son was in trouble with the law. This
parent wrote: I search my memory. Where did I fail him? My son was planned, wanted, and was exactly the all-around kid I had hoped for. I spent lots of time with him, reading stories, going for walks, playing catch, teaching him to fly a kite. We went to church together every Sunday since he was 4. He did all right in school and his teachers liked him. He had lots of friends, and they were always playing ball or going fishing, all the regular kid things. He was on Little League. I went to every game. ... He was just a regular kid. ... My son is [now] running from the police. I didn’t do it, I don’t condone it, nor try to justify what he did. But I still love him, and it hurts. Those of us who are parents understand that on a gut level. To be a loving mother or father is no small thing. It includes not only the potential for great joy, but also the potential for great pain. Or, to say it another way, to be a loving parent is to accept vulnerability. The parental name of God Keep that vulnerability in mind as I remind you that when Jesus walked this earth, he broadened our understanding of God by the name he most often used for God: Father. You see, in the Old Testament, God was known by many names, but they were often ones that emphasized how separate, majestic and glorious God is. There were names like God Almighty, The Most High God, The Everlasting God, The God Who Sees All and so forth, but not the name “Father.” There are a few instances in the Old Testament where the word “father” is used to describe God, but in those places, it is used metaphorically, not as a name. One such example is from Psalm 103:13: “As a father has compassion for his children, so the LORD has compassion for those who fear him.” But when Jesus came, he called God by a parental name, “Father,” and he invited others to use the same name for God. When his disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he told them to begin with the words, “Our Father ....” And then, at another point, Jesus told this magnificent story we know as “The Prodigal Son,” but might be better called “The Loving Father.” You know the plot: The younger of two sons living at home wants to go off and try life on his own, and he demands his share of the inheritance. Surprisingly, his father agrees and gives it to him. The younger son goes to a far country where he soon squanders his money on an “eat, drink and be merry” lifestyle. Finally, out of cash, he is reduced to feeding pigs, the only job he can get. But it pays very poorly, and he is so hungry that he envies the pigs their slop. Finally, he decides to return home, admit his mistake and ask his father to take him in as one of the servants. When he gets home, however, his father welcomes him warmly, not as a servant, but as a son, and throws a lavish welcome-home party. Focus for a moment on the father. As we listen to Jesus’ telling of this parable, it becomes clear that the father in the story represents God, so once again, Jesus is reinforcing the idea that God may be viewed in this more personal way. The vulnerable father But look at what happens to this father in the parable. First, this younger son of his treats him shabbily. In demanding his inheritance while his father is still living is the equivalent of treating his father as if he were dead. That was insulting. You don’t usually get your inheritance until your parents have passed away. He wanted his rights without the accompanying responsibilities. There were arrangements in that day that allowed a father to distribute his holdings while still alive, but in such a case, the person receiving the inheritance was expected to care for the parents until their death. Basically, this son was telling his father, “Drop dead now!” Second, this boy takes off and lives a life that defies all the values his father holds important. Finally, when the son comes crawling home in shame, the father does something no dignified Middle-Eastern father of that day would do: He runs to meet his son. This father has been watching down the road, Jesus tells us, and we gather that he’s done this frequently. When he sees the boy, a long way off, he knows that the son will be humiliated by the taunts of his former friends and will be the object of village gossip. And so to spare the boy, he humiliates himself by running out to him and welcoming him home. You see, in telling us this story, one of the things Jesus shows us about God is that like a loving parent, God accepts the possibility that we, his children, will cause him pain. He accepts the fear factor inherent in parenthood that there will be things from which he cannot protect us because we remove ourselves from his care. When you think about it, parenthood is a remarkable way for God to relate to us. It means he invites us to come to him with the familiarity and comfortableness with which a child runs into the arms of a loving parent. But it also means that he accepts the possibility of pain if the child runs the other way. As the parable suggests, he does not force us to stay. He lets us go if we insist, and he takes the risk that we may never return. But as the parable also suggests, he is always on the lookout for us to return home, holding a warm spot in his heart for us, and keeping the makings of a welcome-home party at the ready. Supper’s ready Let’s go back to the parable once more. After this father runs to his returning son, he embraces him and kisses him. Next, when the son tries to stammer out an apology, the father doesn’t even let him finish it. And then, the father instructs his servants to prepare a celebratory feast. All three of these actions are significant, and they are reflected in a nationwide poll from a few years ago that asked, “What word or phrase would you most like to hear uttered to you, sincerely?” Here’s what the survey revealed: The first was, “I love you.” The second was, “You are forgiven.” And the third was, “Supper’s ready.” This father in the parable had lived with the fear that he’d never get the chance to say those things to his wayward son. But when the boy came home, the father, by kissing his son, shushing the apology and ordering a feast, effectively said all three of these phrases to the prodigal. And God, our Father, watches down the road, waiting for us to turn toward home, so he, too, can say all three to us. “I love you. You are forgiven. Supper’s ready.” |
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