The Son Who Never Left

This is week three of three - the final week of a series I’ve entitled “The Ghost of Diotrephes.” Just to quickly catch you up if you’re just joining us for the first time: it’s about a guy named Diotrephes. You probably haven’t heard of him, and that’s precisely the point. He appears once, briefly, in the New Testament - in one book, Third John, the shortest book in the entire Bible. And all we know about the guy is one thing. It says he loved to put himself first. It’s interesting that 2,000 years later, we’re still talking about him for that one reason. We call it “the ghost of Diotrephes” because even though it’s been 2,000 years, his tendencies still have a way of living on inside of us.

For the final week of the series, I’m going to switch gears just a little, because there’s a story Jesus tells that’s really custom-tailored to Diotrephes, even though Diotrephes wasn’t around yet. As we’ve talked about in this series, the solution to “me first” isn’t just trying harder - it’s about getting a revelation of the love of the Father. When you don’t have that, you try to fill the need with all kinds of other things.

Setting the Scene: Luke 15

There’s an amazing story in Luke chapter 15. Let me give a little context before we read it. Luke 15:1 says:

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

Did you catch that scandal? It’s about a guest list. They’re saying this guy will eat with anybody. They’re not taking issue with his theology or his miracles. Their complaint is that he will eat with literally anybody.

In response to their complaint, Jesus tells three stories. The first is the story of the lost sheep, where a shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. Then he tells the story of the lost coin, where a woman flips her house upside down to find it. Then, third - the big one - is what many people call “the parable of the prodigal son.”

It’s an awful title, by the way. In your Bible, the little headings you see aren’t in the original Greek - at some point a guy added those to help you out, and he did a great job, except for this one. If your Bible says “the parable of the prodigal son,” I’d love if you took a pen and added a tiny little “s” - because it’s the story of the prodigal sons. There are two sons. It’s not a story about one son; it’s a story about two sons, divided into two very clear acts. Act one is about the younger son. Act two is about the older son. Everybody knows act one - Hollywood knows act one - but barely anybody talks about act two. If you understand who Jesus was talking to and why, you’ll notice act two is actually the point of the story he was trying to communicate to the Pharisees. Remember, their objection was that this guy will eat with anybody. These religious men never missed a service. They were better than everyone. And he tells them this story.

The title for this week, if you’re taking notes: The Son Who Never Left.

Heavenly Father, we’re so grateful for you this morning. We thank you for your word, we thank you for your church, and we thank you for the Holy Spirit who can speak to us and lead us and guide us into all truth. We open up our hearts this morning to what you would have to say to us, and ask that you would help us implement the things you teach us. We’re so grateful for you, Lord, and it’s in your Son’s name we pray. Amen.

Act One: The Younger Son

Here’s act one, super quick. There’s a father with two sons. The younger son comes to the father and says, “Dad, I want you to give me my share of the estate.” You probably know how it works - when somebody dies, the inheritance gets split between the sons. This younger boy is saying, “I don’t want to wait for you to die. I want half your stuff now.” He’s basically saying, “I want your stuff, but I don’t want you.”

The father does something amazing: he says okay, and gives it to him. The son liquidates everything, turns it into cash, leaves, and goes to a distant country, where he parties through the entire inheritance. There are verses that talk about prostitutes - I don’t know how many prostitutes you need to party through an entire inheritance, but it’s more than five. He was living it up, and then suddenly he’s broke. To make matters worse, a famine hits the land, and he ends up slopping with the pigs - so hungry that even the pig food starts to look good. For a Jewish boy, there is nothing lower than slopping with the pigs.

Standing in the pig pen, he starts rehearsing a speech to give his father. Look at verse 18:

“I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”

This is his plan - to go back home, but not as a son. He’s planning to come back as staff. He says, “I won’t even be called your son anymore. I just want to be like a hired servant, earning my meals and wages.”

So he goes home, and the father sees him and runs out to him. What’s interesting is that the father doesn’t even let the son finish the speech. He brings out the best robe, puts a ring on the son’s finger, sandals on his feet, and says, “Let’s kill the fattened calf.” A huge party starts.

That’s usually where people stop the story, and it’s a great story - it communicates the love of the Father, that even when you wander away and stop serving God, he still welcomes you home with all his grace and gifts. That’s beautiful. But a lot of people would just roll the credits right there and go home happy. The issue is that Jesus isn’t done - that’s just act one.

Act Two: The Older Son

Look at verse 25. So the calf is killed, everyone’s celebrating - meanwhile, the older son was in the field. He was working. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing - so much dancing.

Notice: the second son wasn’t at the party. He’d done the right thing. He never said what the younger son said to his dad. He was still working. He never took his father’s money to Vegas. One of his points is going to be, “You never threw me a party, Dad.” He’s not the villain of the story - he’s the responsible one.

And honestly, if I’m being honest, he’s the guy I identify with most, though it feels a bit like bragging to say it. My mom would tell you I had a bit of a rebellious phase - not a huge one. I’ve pretty much always come to church; I don’t think I’ve ever gone an entire month since I was born without coming to church. I’ve had some weird seasons, but by and large I’ve stayed remarkably consistent. I’ve got hundreds of friends who were raised in church with me, who went to youth group and camp with me, and we all fell over together - and now, where are they? They’ve been gone from God for months, years, and some of them have never come back. So I can attest to this reality: consistent, faithful following of God is not always celebrated in our culture. It’s just not that big a deal. Around Thanksgiving, we hear all these incredible testimonies - people share about God’s goodness and restoration - but hardly ever does someone come up and say, “I’m just glad to report another uneventful year of following God faithfully.” It’s barely even a testimony in our culture.

But in this story, Jesus wants to show us this: the younger brother was lost, but the older brother was just as lost in every way - and in certain ways, even more lost.

I’ve got three points for you this morning.

Point One: You Can Be in the House and Never Be Home

The younger brother has come back home. The older brother comes back, and there’s a celebration - the music’s playing, the meat’s on the grill, the neighbors are inside. And the man who worked all day comes home and finds himself standing in the yard, looking at the party.

Look at verse 26:

He called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. “Your brother has come,” he replied, “and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.” The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him.

He refuses to go in. He’s angry, pouting, arguing outside like he’s fighting with the catering company. And the father goes out to him. This is actually the fourth search party in this chapter - the shepherd going out for the sheep, the woman searching for the coin, the father running out to the younger son, and now the father leaving his own party to go pursue the son pouting on the outside. Four lost things in one chapter, and the fourth one never left the property.

He’s standing on his father’s own land - he knows every inch of it - but he’s still lost. Because a house is a physical place, but a home is a relationship. I can come to your house, but that doesn’t mean I’m at home - because a house is not a home. You can live your entire life in the house of God, and it may never become home to you.

Listen to what the older son says - it’s the only thing he says in the entire story:

“Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”

Look at his vocabulary: “I’ve been slaving for you.” “I have always obeyed your orders.” And when he talks about his own brother, he calls him “this son of yours” - not “my brother.” This is a son who’s been keeping score for years - every chore, every act of obedience, every party he didn’t get. He’s essentially saying, “Dad, do you even see me?”

There’s actually a word for relating to your father like that: religion. Religion at its core is about earning - I have done this, so God ought to do that.

The younger son tried to get the father’s stuff by leaving. The older son tried to get the father’s stuff by staying. But in both cases, it was about the father’s stuff. One got lost in the pig pen; the other got lost in the front yard.

You might be thinking, “What’s this guy’s problem?” But I want to push on that, because a lot of us have a strong sense of justice - like the older son should have gotten the stuff because he’s not the one who messed up. If you’re honest with yourself, you can probably think of people who, if they were restored and celebrated, there’d be a certain pinch inside you - it would feel unjust. If they were welcomed back and celebrated while you’re serving week in and week out, and everyone’s clapping for that guy instead - that feeling isn’t telling you something about them. It’s telling you something about you.

This happens in the church all the time. There are people who serve for twenty years and feel like nobody cares. And meanwhile, other people get promotions, get stage time, get opportunities, and you think, “I’ve been following God for thirty years and y’all don’t even know my name.”

You can spend your whole life in the Father’s house, and it never becomes home to you - because for you, it’s only a place you work, not a place you live. Work’s cool, but that’s not home. Because a home is a place where you receive, not a place where you earn.

Point Two: You Can’t Earn What’s Already Yours

Listen to the older brother again, verse 29:

“All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.”

This isn’t a son talking to his dad - this is an employee in an exit interview. “I’ve been here thirty years. I’m never late. I’ve never called in sick. Zero write-ups. Employee of the month for 300 months and counting.” And notice - he’s not even asking for the fattened calf. He’s asking for a goat, and only to celebrate with his friends. His dream is a small barbecue his dad’s not even at.

Look at what the father says - verse 31 - which is also what Diotrephes never realized:

“My son,” the father said, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”

Everything I have is yours - present tense. Not “when I die, this will be yours” - it’s already yours. The goat and the calf were already in the barn. All he had to do was ask. But he was living like an employee in a house where everything was already his, because he was so determined to earn it. You can’t earn what’s already yours.

Here’s a question: What have you been working to earn that God has already given you for free? Are you trying to earn his love? His acceptance? His forgiveness? It’s easy to think that’s just for new Christians, but it happens to me too - I’ll be believing for something and think, “I should start fasting.” Fasting is good, but not when I’m doing it to earn something from God. You can follow God for forty years and still slip into thinking, “God ought to do this for me because look how hard I’m trying.” But the Father says everything I have is already yours.

You might ask, “Are you saying trying doesn’t matter?” No - write this down: Grace isn’t opposed to effort. It’s opposed to earning. God loves it when you try hard, when you work all day for him. What he doesn’t like is when you send him a bill. You work hard, and what you receive from him is still just a gift.

A lot of people, honestly, don’t like receiving gifts. It’s not just a guy thing, but it can be a guy thing - “I’ll pay for myself.” Or someone compliments a dress and the response is, “Oh, this old thing, it cost four dollars and there’s a rip.” Deflecting the compliment instead of just saying thank you.

I used to do that with preaching - someone would say, “Great preaching,” and I’d say, “Oh, I don’t know, I’m trying to get better.” A pastor told me once, “Stop that. If people want to say something nice, just say thanks.” Or I’ll take someone out for coffee, pay for it, and before we even sit down they’ve Venmoed me back. Just take the gift. But people turn gifts into transactions because receiving is sometimes hard - it can feel that way with God too. When you want something, you feel like there’s something you need to do to make it happen, to earn it, to deserve it. It protects the ego.

I remember a homeless man near a McDonald’s by our house, standing at an intersection with his hand out - no sign, nothing. I rolled down my window and gave him a five-dollar bill, and as I drove off he yelled, “I won’t waste it!” - which made me think maybe he was going to. But I understood the instinct: if I’m receiving, I feel like I have to somehow earn it or deserve it.

Peter had this exact problem. Look at John 13:5:

After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said, “No, you shall never wash my feet.” He’s saying, “No thanks, not looking for a handout.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me” - either I wash your feet, or we’re done here. Then Peter replied, “Not just my feet, but my hands and my head as well!” - suddenly, “why do you have the soap out?”

Peter’s saying, “I don’t want you serving me - I want to serve you.” And Jesus is saying, if you don’t let me serve you, there’s nothing here. That’s the whole dynamic of the relationship.

I’ve done weddings with footwashing ceremonies, and it’s always sweet but a little awkward. But I bet you’d much rather wash someone else’s feet than have them wash yours - because receiving is hard. That’s the older brother. He had no problem working in the field all day, but he wouldn’t walk inside and let his father hand him something.

I counsel people who come to church for ten years, believing for something, and one of the first things they do in my office is explain why they deserve for God to give them something. I just say, “Bro, none of that earns you anything. Pray your guts out. Fast your guts out. But that doesn’t earn you anything with God.” No matter what you do, everything God gives us is a gift. You just have to learn to receive it.

As a pastor, I do a lot of funerals throughout the year. I’ll meet with families to talk through the ceremony, and they’ll ask, “How much do you charge?” I say, “It’s already paid for.” “Really? By who?” “By somebody who loves you” - which is you all, since you pay me. And even then, they’ll say, “I don’t know, maybe we’ll give him a couple hundred bucks.” I say, “You do what you want, man, but it’s already been paid for.” It’s hard to receive. But the challenge is to stop trying to earn what’s already yours, and just live from a place of gratitude - not earning, not deserving, just receiving the free gift.

Point Three: Religion Says Servant, the Father Says Son

Back to the pig pen for a moment. When the son rehearses his speech - “I’ve sinned against heaven and against you, I’m no longer worthy to be called your son, make me like one of your hired servants” - but when he actually gets to the father, he only gets halfway through:

The son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to the servants, “Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.”

He never gets to finish the line: “Make me like one of your hired servants.” The father is already lavishing on him things he didn’t earn - the robe, the ring, the sandals - before he even finishes the sentence.

Both sons, from totally different angles, have the same mindset: “I’m ready to earn something from the father.” It’s an incredibly kind and gentle father with two terrible kids. And in both cases, when the sons talk about earning, the father responds with one word: son. To the younger: “This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” To the older, who won’t even call him “dad” or call his brother “my brother”: “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”

The younger son smells like pigs. The older son smells like self-righteousness. But in both cases, the father’s response is the same: “You are my son.” And if you’re a son, a house can become a home. A church family can become a real family.

I did the White House tour once as a kid - velvet ropes, “don’t touch the painting.” As a guest, that’s all you can do - you’re not in your home. But the president’s kids experience it totally differently. There’s the famous story of Lincoln’s son dragging a goat through the White House and nobody tackling him. It’s a totally different experience in a house when you’re a son or a daughter.

Neither son in this story gets that. The younger rebels outside the house; the elder rebels inside the house. But the father extends grace to them both. And what’s interesting is the story actually ends with the outwardly sinful son back at the table, while the elder son - who never did anything wrong - ends up on the outside. Remember who Jesus is talking to: the people who complained, “This guy will eat with anybody.” The story poses a question to them: Will you come into the party? Jesus doesn’t answer it, because he’s still asking them.

One son got lost in a pig pen, the other got lost in the front yard, and the father went out to both of them.

I think it’s amazing, too, that the first thing the father does when the son comes home is put a robe on him - because one of the first things they did to Jesus was take his robe off. Soldiers gambled for his clothes, so that you could be clothed. He was thirsty, and they gave him vinegar, so that you could drink from living water. He was a Son treated like less than a servant, so that you, a servant, could be treated like a son.

God the Father never once hired anybody. He’s not looking for staff. He only has one thing - sons and daughters.

Closing

One son got lost in a pig pen, the other got lost in the front yard, and the father went out to both of them.

You can be in the house and never be home - because home is not a place; home is a relationship.

You can’t earn what’s already yours - the calf was in the barn the whole time. All you had to do was ask.

Religion says servant. The Father says son. God has never once hired anybody. He has only ever had children.

Jesus never tells us if the older brother went in. That’s because he’s asking you.

The music is already playing.