The God Who Runs

Posted by Jim Thornber on July 16, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , . Leave a comment

“And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.” –Luke 15:20

I’d like to share with you a snippet of a recent conversation I had with God.

It started when I wanted to write the way Jesus portrayed God in Luke 15. After the wayward son spent his inheritance on wild living, he decides to return home. Verse 20 says the Father ran to the son, embraced him before he could deliver his well-rehearsed speech, and called for a party on his behalf. But I was missing something in the story and didn’t know how to start. I had blogger’s block. Finally (why is it always “finally’?), I settled myself down and prayed.

Me: Lord, as I think about Luke 15, how would You like me to represent You?

God: Tell people My forgiveness predates their repentance.

Me: Okay. What is the best way to do that?

God: Tell them why I ran.

I’ve been studying Luke 15 since the 1980’s when I first read Lloyd John Oglivie’s book on the parables called The Autobiography of God. The first parable Oglivie writes about is this one, which he calls, “The Prodigal God.” About the Father he says, “Rivet your attention on him. Don’t take your eyes off him,” because the spotlight is never off Him, even when He is off stage. He is the prodigal God.

That strikes most people as absurd, mostly because they think prodigal means “going away and returning.” In fact, the word “prodigal” means extravagant, lavish, unrestrained and copious. True, this describes the son in the way he lived in the far country, but it better describes the father. His love knew no limits, his joy no restraint, his forgiveness no boundaries. His forgiveness isn’t even bound by time.  The son was unrestrained with his money, but the father is unrestrained with His love.

Back to the parable. The son is now walking through town on his way to the Father’s house and Jesus says, “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.”

Let’s pause at that word “run.” Most of us skip over it and move ahead to the embrace and the call for a new wardrobe. But if we don’t stop and consider the Father running, we miss a very important part of the story.

In his exegesis of Luke 15, Kenneth Bailey tells us as the son approaches the village, a crowd will gather. The village, well aware the son wanted the father to die so he could have his money now, will taunt the son, abusing him verbally and possibly physically. Therefore, the only way for the father to protect his son from a distance was to draw the attention of the crowd away from the son and onto himself. Therefore, the father ran.

Bailey writes, “An Oriental nobleman with flowing robes never runs anywhere. To do so is humiliating.” Aristotle wrote, “Great men never run in public.” But the father ran anyway. Why? Because he had “compassion” for his son. The only way to keep the crowd from harming his son was to distract them, so the father runs this gauntlet, drawing the attention of the away from the son in order to observe the father’s shameful behavior. Bailey writes, “The boy, having steeled his nerves for this gauntlet, now, to his utter amazement, see his father run it for him. Rather than experiencing the ruthless hostility he deserves and anticipates, the son witnesses and unexpected, visible demonstration of love in humiliation.”

This is the character of God. Not concerned for His own dignity, He does the unexpected so those who would never expect it see a side of God they least expected: love in humiliation. This is Christ the Messiah who, more concerned with our salvation than His dignity, voluntarily hangs naked from a Cross. Why? “Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame” (Heb. 12:2).

While we were disabled due to sin, Jesus disrobed, shedding both His eternity and His clothes, to enable us to live again. Like the father running in the parable, he took the shame upon Himself and drew Satan’s attention away from us, knowing His death would set us free. By the time the Accuser figured out the resurrection, Christ’s victory over sin and death had already been won.

Our Savior exchanged his majesty for mortality, His sovereignty for shame, His glory for a grave. At the best possible moment in the history of humanity upon this earth, Christ came to us. Even as a baby, Satan’s attention was riveted upon Him. Christ ran.

We’ve been created by a Father who runs toward us. In His compassionate love, He forgives us before we ask, before we can convince Him we need His presence with our well-rehearsed speech. All the Father knew was His child who once was lost is now returning home, so He ran to embrace him.

Our Father, Holy is His name, likes to run. Have you experienced His embrace?

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son, 1662–1669

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No More No Less

Posted by Jim Thornber on June 25, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , . 1 Comment

I rarely post excerpts from books, but Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son has been rearranging my thinking and my theology lately. Enjoy.

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son, 1662–1669

The elder brother compares himself with the younger one and becomes jealous. But the father loves them both so much that it didn’t even occur to him to delay the party in order to prevent the elder son from feeling rejected. I am convinced that many of my emotional problems would melt as snow in the sun if I could let the truth of God’s non-comparing love permeate my heart.

How hard that is becomes clear when I reflect on the parable of the laborers in the vineyard. Each time I read that parable in which the landowner gives as much to the workers who worked only one hour as to those who did “a heavy day’s work in all the heat,” a feeling of irritation still wells up inside of me.

Why didn’t the landowner pay those who worked many long hours first and then surprise the latecomers with his generosity? Why, instead, does he pay the workers of the eleventh hour first, raising false expectations in the others and creating unnecessary bitterness and jealousy? Those questions, I now realize, come from a perspective that is all too willing to impose the economy of the temporal on the unique order of the divine.

It hadn’t previously occurred to me that the landowner might have wanted the workers of the early hours to rejoice in his generosity to the latecomers. It never crossed my mind that he might have acted on the supposition that those who had worked in the vineyard the whole day would be deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to do work for their boss, and even more grateful to see what a generous man he is. It requires an interior about-face to accept such a non-comparing way of thinking. But that is God’s way of thinking. God looks at his people as children of a family who are happy that those who have done only a little are as much loved as those who accomplish much.

God Answers Our Imperfect Prayers

Posted by Jim Thornber on June 24, 2020
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“Meanwhile, Peter continued knocking. When they finally opened the door and saw him, they were amazed.” – Acts 12:16

Are you an unbelieving believer? I know I am! How many times have I prayed about something, wondered if God heard my prayer, wondered even more if He would answer my prayer, and when He does answer my prayer, doubted it was God who answered my prayer? Too numerous to count. But at least I’m not alone, and I have a group of disciples in the book of Acts who understand just how I feel.

Here’s the scene. A group of Christians gather together for an all-night prayer vigil to seek God for the life of Peter, their beloved friend and leader, whom Herod has arrested and plans to execute. They are crying out to God for Peter’s life and the prayer vigil take them into the early morning.

Then a knock comes at the front door. A servant girl name Rhoda goes to see who it is. Rhoda must have been very familiar with Peter to recognize him just by his voice, because she left Peter at the locked gate, ran back to the prayer group and told them Peter was here.

And, being the faith-filled, Spirit-led, Holy Ghost baptized believers they are, they immediately dismissed Rhoda’s news by telling her she was crazy, it was just probably just his angel. Say what? Here these people are involved in some serious prayer but when the answer comes knocking at the door, they don’t believe it. THAT is what I mean by this being an imperfect prayer—they didn’t even have enough faith to think that God would answer their prayers.

This teaches us we don’t have to produce perfect faith nor perfect prayers to experience God’s answers. It wasn’t the extraordinary faith they all had that moved God to release Peter. In fact, they didn’t show much faith at all. Here they are, all gathered together to pray for their beloved friend, and when he shows up in answer to their prayers, they don’t believe it. So, how much faith does it take to pray for something and then, when you get it, turn it away because you doubt? Not much faith. Not much at all. But what we learn from this passage is it isn’t the amount of faith you have, but Who your faith is in that matters.

We must always remember that our faith isn’t in our faith, it is in God. Jesus knew we’d only need faith the size of a mustard seed to move mountains (Matt 13:31-32). The fact that they were praying was enough faith to produce results. I admonish you to NEVER tell someone they didn’t receive an answer to their prayers because they didn’t have enough faith. I want to seriously hurt the self-righteous clods who tell people, “The reason you didn’t get healed was because you didn’t have enough faith.” If you want to see me truly angry, use that sentence in my presence! How much faith does it take to become saved? How much faith does it take to have your first-ever conversation with God? I think that is the same amount of faith it takes to move mountains. Just talking with God takes a certain amount of faith in itself.

I admit it comforts me to know I’m not the first person to pray for something and then doubt when it arrives. These early believers prayed rightly, and even though they didn’t believe it when God answered their prayers, God answered them anyway. They prayed fervently and effectively, but didn’t fully believe. Still, they had enough faith in them to pray in the first place, and that’s all we need, too.

 

 

We Are Not In Competition

Posted by Jim Thornber on June 16, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Leadership, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , , . 1 Comment

“Then Barnabas went to Tarsus to look for Saul.” –  Acts 11:25

 

One of my greatest joys as a pastor is the friendships I have with other pastors in my town. I’ve been having Friday morning coffee for years with other pastors, and we’ve developed great relationships. I’ve taught in their church and they’ve come to mine when I was out of town. In fact, I’ve taught in four different churches and have had seven pastors or teachers from other churches fill in for me. One pastor uses me and my wife Barbara for all his marriage counseling, and another pastor is  my computer guru.

Because of our friendships, we see one another not as competitors for souls, but companions in the work of the Kingdom. We support and encourage one another, share needs, prayer requests and, when needed, finances. We are working together to build the Kingdom of God, because we recognize each fellowship has different gifts with different abilities to minister to different people.

We see the same attitude with Barnabas in the book of Acts. This oft-overlooked character has been both an inspiration and a challenge to me. We first meet him as an example of a disciple who was “united in heart and mind” with the other believers (Acts 4:32). We read his real name was Joseph (which means, “May God add”), but the apostles nicknamed him Barnabas (“Son of encouragement”). We also know he was from the island of Cyprus and the priestly tribe of Levi. In his generosity, he sold a field he owned and gave the money to the apostles to use for the poor.

In Acts 11, we read about the first believers taking the Gospel outside Israel to Gentiles. Up to this point, most of the believers only preached to Jews, like those in Jerusalem, or to those in Israel, like Cornelius in Caesarea. Now believers from Cyrene (North Africa) and Cyprus (an island in the Mediterranean) are preaching to the pagans in Antioch. Because Barnabas would be more familiar with the disciples and the pagan nature of Antioch, the church of Jerusalem sends him to investigate. What he sees makes him rejoice because of all the people who brought to the Lord.

This is good, but what challenges me is Barnabas doesn’t stay in Antioch. Instead, he travels 100 miles west to get Saul, whose God-given commission was to the Gentiles. It appears Barnabas was aware that this ministry in Antioch was the specialty of another minister, so he seeks Saul. The two of them stay in Antioch one year, and it was here the believers are first called “Christians,” which means “Christ followers” or “those of the household of Christ.”

The inspiration and the challenge is the way Barnabas understood his gifts, understood the gifts of Saul, and proceeded to collaborate with his brother in Christ to bring the Gospel to new people. Barnabas didn’t “protect his interest” in Antioch. It wasn’t “his church and his people.” He knew it was God’s church and God’s people and he sought out the best person he could find to continue God’s mission.

My prayer is we all (pastors, people and churches) learn to step aside and allow God to use God’s people without there being any spirit of “ownership” over a group or a ministry. Perhaps then the world will realize we are all “those of the household of Christ.”

 

The Crumbs of Faith and Hope

Posted by Jim Thornber on March 26, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , . 2 Comments

“Jesus said to the woman, ‘I was sent only to help God’s lost sheep—the people of Israel.’ But she came and worshiped him, pleading again, ‘Lord, help me!’”­ Matthew 15:24-25

 

As I write this, the world is in turmoil because of coronavirus, or COVID-19. In response to this pandemic, prayers all over the world are ascending to God’s throne, and many pastors, like myself, are searching for ways to comfort and guide our people. Is God judging the world? Is He trying to remind us there is only one race on earth, the human race, and we need to work together as companions instead of apart as competitors?

I’ll let better minds than my own try to figure out what God is doing on a global scale, for I’ve got my hands full praying for and touching (not literally!) the lives I come in contact with (not literally!) every day. What I do know is God is not the silent type, and even when He is, He is leading us into a life of faith and hope.

All of this has me thinking about the very persistent mother in Matthew 15:21-28. The story finds Jesus leaving Galilee and going north into Tyre and Sidon, which was Gentile territory. A Canaanite (enemies of the Jews) woman who lived there came to Him and pleaded for Jesus to heal her daughter, who was being tormented by a demon. As a response to this request, Jesus remained silent.

Today, silence is a most hated concept. With smartphones, the internet, radio and television blaring everywhere we go, we’ve learned to distrust the sound of silence. Silence is wrong. Silence means something is broke. Silence from our political leaders means they are not working on our behalf. Silence from our religious leaders means they don’t have the comforting answers we seek. Silence makes us nervous. Silence makes us wonder if we’re still alive if all we hear is the sound of our own breathing.

Add to that silence of Jesus the complete lack of compassion from the Disciples. Sure, they want Jesus to heal her, but only because “she is bothering us with all her begging” (15:23). In other words, if healing her daughter will get her to shut up, then DO IT! So, couple the silence of Jesus with the fact the people hanging out with Jesus urge Him to send her away, in most instances you’d have an emotional breakdown in the making. This woman is facing rejection on all sides and she knows it, but she still doesn’t go away. She just stands there and waits for the Son of David to answer her request, and when Jesus does speak, it is not as the meek and mild Jesus we sing about in church. Continue Reading

Habakkuk’s Complaint

Posted by Jim Thornber on March 14, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture, Worship. Tagged: , , , , , . Leave a comment

I’ve been reading (and rereading) the book of Habakkuk lately. It is a small book nestled between Nahum and Zephaniah and is unique among the prophetical writings in that it contains no message to Israel or Judah. Instead, it’s a dialogue between a desperate and disappointed prophet and his very confusing God. It’s an intimate look into an intense conversation, and I feel like a bystander looking over someone’s shoulder and reading their email. I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway. I feel like a scriptural voyeur who hasn’t been caught!

However, Habakkuk is not unique in the way the prophet accuses God of being not only unjust, but unfathomable. Jonah and Jeremiah also leveled some harsh accusations towards God who, being God, never takes it personally but redirects His servants to see the bigger picture. That comforts me, because I’ve leveled my share of disappoints with God, who always gently brings me around to see things His way.

Upon my first reading, I immediately understood Habakkuk’s emotions. He sees his people are in trouble and prays for God’s help. I’ve done that. So far, so good. In response, God tells Habakkuk He will fix things by bringing the completely depraved, godless and idol-worshiping Babylonians in to punish God’s own people. In other words, the unrighteous will teach the righteous. However, now that Habakkuk gets an answer to his prayer, he calls a time out and registers a second complaint to God, telling Him he doesn’t like God’s answer! Me once again. Has Habakkuk been reading MY emails?!

“Wait,” he says. “I wanted You to fix things, but not THAT way!” That sounds like me, too. I want an answer, but I want a comfortable, encouraging answer. I want an answer that will show God is on my side because I’m God’s chosen and beloved servant. I practice talking to God with the confident assurance I’m going to get preferential treatment because I’m a child of the King and all the answers to my prayers will be those that will bless my soul and encourage my church to worship the beauty and majesty of God. In other words, like Habakkuk, I’ve told God I wasn’t sure He knew what He was doing. And I’m also sure I’m not alone.

Still, after his complaints, Habakkuk does something wonderful: He waits. “I will climb up to my watchtower and stand at my guardpost,” he writes. “There I will wait to see what the LORD says and how he will answer my complaint” (2:1). He knows God will answer and he goes back to work to see how God will reveal Himself.

Then, after hearing the God’s answer to his second complaint, Habakkuk does something that astounds me. He takes the worst possible news he could ever hear from God—“I trembled inside when I heard this; my lips quivered with fear. My legs gave way beneath me, and I shook in terror” (3:16)—and decides, “yet I will rejoice in the LORD! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!” (3:17-18). That’s a level of faith I’m only beginning to understand. God is not only Habakkuk’s Savior, He is also his King and His Lord. And if the Lord has decided this is the best course of action, then no matter how difficult it will be for him personally, Habakkuk will never abandon gratitude and a joyful expectation that one day, and maybe not even in his lifetime, God will work out everything according to His glory and our good. Even when there are no figs, no grapes, no olives, dead flocks and empty cattle barns (3:17), “yet I will rejoice in the LORD!” And Habakkuk can say that because, “The Sovereign LORD is my strength!” (3:19).

In his introduction to Habakkuk, Eugene Peterson writes, “Habakkuk started out exactly where we start out with our puzzled complaints and God-accusations, but he didn’t stay there. He ended up in a world, along with us, where every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.” When I understand this then, and only then, will I live “as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights.” (3:19). And what a view from the heights it will be!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Just Like Moses. . . .On A Bad Day!

Posted by Jim Thornber on March 3, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , , . Leave a comment

Speak to that rock before their eyes and it will pour out its water. . . Then Moses raised his arm and struck the rock twice with his staff. Water gushed out, and the community and their livestock drank. Numbers 20:1-13

I was walking out of Lowe’s a few years back when I saw a man who had left our church some months earlier. Not long after he left, I merged our fellowship with another church in town and we were in the midst of remodeling our joint facility. As I happily explained to this former member all the good things that were taking place, I was also thinking, “Aren’t you just a bit jealous that your leaving didn’t cause our church to fold? Aren’t you envious that we’re doing better since you left? Don’t you want to come see our progress and tell me just how fine a pastor I am?” 

After our conversation, I wasn’t in my truck two seconds when the Lord told me what a selfish fool I’d just been, and I was reminded of the story of Moses and the rock.

Moses, by the direction of God, guided the grumbling Israelites into the Desert of Zin, where they camped at Kadesh. In other words, they were exactly where God wanted them to be. Upon finding themselves without water, they did the natural thing—they yelled at Moses. Moses in turn turns to God, who tells Moses, “Speak to the rock over there, and it will pour out its water” (Num. 20:8). You noticed, of course, that God said, “Speak to the rock.” Did you also notice that Moses turned and struck the rock not once, but twice?

Naturally, God the All-Knowing was not surprised by the action of Moses and says, “Because you did not trust me enough to demonstrate my holiness to the people of Israel, you will not lead them into the land I am giving them!” God, of course, isn’t in the habit of sharing His glory with mere mortals (Isa. 48:11).

Moses struck the Rock (Christ was the Rock – 1 Cor. 10:4) and said, “Must WE bring you water out of this rock?” (vs. 10, emphasis mine). Bringing water out of the rock was the Lord’s doing, not Moses’. But Moses wanted the people to see how powerful he was, how effective he was in producing miracles, how central he was to God’s plan. However, God’s plan didn’t include Moses in the center of anything but obedience to the His instructions. Moses promoted himself over the goodness and provision of God, and it cost him his passport into the Promised Land.

And therein lies the sting for most of us. God is working mightily in our lives, performing miracles when we simply obey, and we can’t seem to get ourselves out of His way. At every opportunity, we find ways to prove to people that we have a legitimate reason for breathing air and taking up space and we want to shout, “Look at everything God is doing through ME!”

Like Moses, I wanted to strike out and prove my worth. I wanted a man in a Lowe’s parking lot to see me and be impressed. Maybe he was impressed with me, but God wasn’t. My power wants to strike out, but God’s power speaks, creates, provides and guides His people in ways that are best for them, regardless of the perceived ego needs of the leaders.

Fortunately, God didn’t take away my ticket to the Promised Land. But He did remind me to keep my high opinion of myself out of the way of His grace. Where God guides He will provide, and He doesn’t need me to promote my agenda to feed my ego to see His miracles take place.

They Are Not My Disciples

Posted by Jim Thornber on February 28, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Leadership, Religion. Tagged: , , , , , . Leave a comment

The next day John was there again with two of his disciples. When he saw Jesus passing by, he said, “Look, the Lamb of God!” When the two disciples heard him say this, they followed Jesus. Turning around, Jesus saw them following and asked, “What do you want?” They said, “Rabbi” (which means Teacher), “where are you staying?” “Come,” he replied, “and you will see.”­ – John 1:35-39

 

Two items bother me about this passage. One, the disciple-making process is a catch and release program. And two, it takes a bit of faith.

But let’s back up. For four hundred years, there has not been a prophet in Israel. Then John shows up, and he’s pretty weird. While wearing camel skins, eating locust legs and living in the desert, John stirs up trouble by calling the religious leaders to repent. Naturally, this behavior draws not only the ire of the religious, but also a crowd and a few disciples.

However, John knows his place. John knows that he is God’s instrument to point the way to the Christ, but he is not the Christ. John knows he is not the Word, but his words reveal Jesus. This, of course, begs the question, “Do my words reveal Jesus, the Lamb of God, who came to take away the sins of the world?” Not always, but I’m getting off my point.

John knew how to make disciples, and he knew they weren’t his to keep. A wise friend of mine said that Christian discipleship does not come when a person receives salvation. Rather, discipleship comes when you make a friend and take them with you on your journey with Christ. Furthermore, it continues when you let them go to walk with Jesus on their own. 

John knew that to be a successful follower of Christ he would have to point others to Jesus. He knew that, for a while, it was okay for others to hang out with him, but one day they would have to walk with Jesus and follow Him on their own. Likewise, there are people who are attracted to my teaching and me. But I must remember that they are not my disciples. I serve them best by pointing them to Jesus.

Each of us must come to the point where we ask Jesus, “Where are you staying?” And Jesus will reply, “Come and see.” This means I can’t know always know where Jesus is going until I follow Him. And I must follow Him without always knowing where He is going.

It also means that sometimes “my” disciples will leave me in order to follow Jesus on their own. This is the way it should be, but I’ve noticed that some people have difficulty letting go. Have you ever left a church fellowship to follow Jesus’ calling on your life, only to discover that those you left no longer speak to you, or if they see you around town, feel uncomfortable in your presence? Yeah, me too.

After resigning my last staff position, a member of the church said, “I’m mad at you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you left my church,” he replied.

“That’s true.” I said. “But I didn’t leave you.”

That didn’t seem to console him too much. I’ve seen him a few times since but he seems uncomfortable with me, and all I can do is pray for him.

            My encouragement to you who are leaders is to know when to let people go, and when you do, make them feel comfortable and accepted in the going. Remember, they are not really leaving you. They are following Jesus.

On Being Afraid Of Not Trying

Posted by Jim Thornber on February 6, 2020
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , , , . 2 Comments

Thoughts on The Parable of the Talents — Matthew 25:14-30

Since I’m now of middle age and questionable wisdom, I’ve been spending some time wondering what I want to be when I grow up. I know that teaching Scripture is my true passion and my main gift from God. “What about writing?” you may ask. Writing has always been an avenue for me to teach Scripture, either verbally or through the printed or electronic media.

However, neither of those has ever been my primary source of financial income. I’ve always wanted to be on staff in a church where I could spend most of my time teaching. On the other hand, I’d also like travel to different churches and conferences and share my thoughts about God and His Word. Instead, with the exception of a brief six-month stint on a church staff, I’ve spent most of my working career in the building trades in one form or another. This brings me to the Parable of the Talents.

I can’t help but wonder if I’ve buried my talents. Although I keep comparing myself with Abraham and Joseph, who spent years waiting for God to fulfill His promises, I think it is only honest to wonder if my own pride and sin has kept my dream from being fulfilled. Perhaps this is why I spend so much time writing. I’m hopeful that one day someone will uncover the talent God has given me and I’ll be able to double His investment. Until then, I keep writing in almost total anonymity.

My ultimate dream is to “burn out” for Christ. If could chose my death, it would be right in the middle of a sermon, with two unfinished books in my computer and a pile of teachings in a folder nobody has heard. Then I would feel like I’ve given my all to God and truly invested the talents He has given me.

 I’m not afraid of trying and failing. I am afraid of never trying. While talking to my college roommate about transparency in the pulpit, he wrote me some stirring words that I’ve been pondering ever since.

One of the reasons that grace had to be unlimited is because sin is unlimited. Even a person who lives his whole life in a closet sins grievously. Just look at the parable of the talents. I wish Jesus had included a guy in his story who just blew it all. That would have been me. “I tried Master, really I did. I saw a couple of business opportunities that I thought would work, but they just wouldn’t go. So, here are all the debts I compiled in your name. Some of these you will want to pay pretty quickly as the lenders are the shady sort who might have a whack at your kneecaps if they don’t get paid.” But no, Jesus presented the only failure as the guy who never tried.

 I don’t mind appearing before the Judgment Seat of Christ with a long list of my failures. What bothers me is appearing before God with a short list of the things I was too afraid to attempt. Failure in life is not an option. However, failing to try is.

 

 

Jesus: The Prodigal Son

Posted by Jim Thornber on December 13, 2019
Posted in: Christian Spirituality, Religion, Scripture. Tagged: , , , . Leave a comment

“The younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. . .” Luke 15:11-24

 

When I first studied this passage back in Bible College, it was easy for me to identify the younger son as those people who have taken their God-given gifts and talents and squandered them for their own selfish reasons. I saw them as the heathens among us who didn’t know that God is waiting to welcome them home.

Rembrandt’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son” 

After some reflection (and a few years of maturity), I began to see myself as the prodigal son – wasteful with my own God-given gifts, lavish in my pride, and extravagant in the ways I used my words, even to the point of hurting others. Yes, in many ways I was like the prodigal son.

Seeing myself (and others) as a type of prodigal son is easy. We’re all selfish sinners bent on having our own way at the expense of those who love us. What bothers me (and may bother you) is to consider this: Jesus is the true Prodigal Son.

The word prodigal means to be wastefully or recklessly extravagant or lavish. Jesus recklessly and lavishly invested everything He had so that we could know His eternal love. As I contemplate this, I’m also challenged by how Jesus gave all of Himself while knowing there would not be a 100% return on His investment. Yes, in the omnipotence of God, He knew how many of us would accept His Divine sacrifice. But as a human, Jesus was spending, if not wasting, His entire self on us. True, He loves His creation; but we sure seem to have a funny way of acknowledging His gift.

Jesus the Prodigal. Give this concept some time to sink in. One day Jesus took His inheritance and His title, left the home of His Father and traveled to a distant, foreign country. He spent all He had to become a human and emptied Himself of all the previous privileges He held in His Father’s house. In the strangest investment scheme in history, Jesus prodigiously squandered His inheritance by hanging around with sinners and harlots, drunkards and lepers, tax collectors and sundry riff-raff.  After spending all He had, Jesus sensed God’s abandonment (Matthew 27:46), only to return to the Father hungry and thirsty (John 19:28), fresh out of prison (1 Peter 3:19), dressed in borrowed clothes fit only for a dead man. Continue Reading