RC Sproul Jr

When I served as editor in chief of Tabletalk magazine I committed my share of gaffs. I received more than a few sweet natured but school-marmish notes about why this semi-colon should have been a colon, or why further was the better word in context than farther. But there were bigger blunders as well. Once, I allowed the magazine to go out with one word of its two word title misspelled. Happily we received virtually no feedback on that one because the misspelled word was in Latin.

Only once, however, can I remember receiving high praise for a mistake. I had written something about the parable of the prodigal son. And by accident I referred to it as the story of the prodigal Father. The letter I received was chock full of high praise, “I can’t believe someone finally said it. I always think this is what the story should be called. Thank you for having the courage and the insight to make this point…” He went on for so long that it started to feel pretty good, until I remembered again I made a mistake, not an insight.

As I read, however, I came to see the wisdom of the man’s perspective not on my editorial skills but on the parable. It is indeed the story of the prodigal father. It is true enough that prodigal can refer to wasteful, or careless. It can also, however, refer to someone who is extravagant in giving, overflowing in graciousness, abundant in tenderness and love.

It is good and wise that we should learn to recognize ourselves in the Bible. I always encourage people with this rule of thumb- if you want to know who you are in a Bible story, you are the sinner. And then, in part because of this very parable, I add this, “If the story has more than one sinner, you are both of them.” Because we are sinners and know it not we are both of these brothers. We squander the gifts given to us by our Father. We dishonor, and disobey Him. We pursue our own ends, seeing Him as merely the source of our needs so we can get on with acquiring our wants. On the other hand, we are like the older brother as well, thinking ourselves rather fine fellows. We don’t sin as outrageously as the heathen we see on television. We aren’t hedonists like the prodigal. We, because we are sinners, somehow manage to be both libertines and Pharisees, self-indulgent and self-righteous.

The story, however, doesn’t end there. It is a good thing to come face to face with the depth and scope of our sin. It is a better thing, however, to come face to face with the grace of God. The parable tells us how bad we are. But it ends with robes and fatted calves. It ends with a heartfelt embrace with the prodigal, and a gentle, loving call to repentance for the older brother. The story ends, just as our story ends, with the grace of God for us.

A wise theologian more than once said that the great question plaguing those outside the kingdom is this- what do I do with the my guilt? Romans 1 argues that it is precisely the desperate need to forget that guilt which leads the lost to folly and perversion. We worship the creature because it won’t judge us. We exchange the truth, that we are under judgment, for a lie, that we are perfectly safe. We determine that what we need to be safe is more stuff. And so instead of worrying about the judgment to come, we worry about what we will eat and what we will drink, just like the prodigal in the pigsty.

The answer to both problems, however, is found in the Father. We ought never, in dealing with those outside the kingdom seek, for the sake of winning them, to diminish their sin. We must not belittle their rebellion. We must never nuance their moral crimes into mistakes, errors, lapses in judgment. We must never seek to diminish in their eyes the reality of the wrath of God. We must, however, be quick to point them to the one and only solution to their problem- the overflowing grace of God. God forgives the repentant. The answer to our guilt is not to deny God, to flee from Him, but to run to Him.

We are to seek first the kingdom of God. As we do, however, we would do well to remember that we woke up, and began our journey their because He breathed life into us. We would do well to remember that while we were yet afar off, He girds up His loins and runs to us, crying, “My son, my son.” We would do well to remember that when we feast with Him at His table, we receive a foretaste of the feast to come. Because we move from grace to grace, we would do well to move from amazed to astonished. If you are in Christ, your Father loves you, forgives you, and is even now pouring out His grace on you. Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad.