Luke 15:11-32 · The Parable of the Lost Son
A Word to Prodigals
Luke 15:11-32
Sermon
by King Duncan
Loading...

Retired seminary professor Fred B. Craddock was preaching on the parable of the prodigal son. After the service a man said, “I really didn’t care much for that, frankly.”

Craddock asked, “Why?”

The man said. “Well, I guess it’s not your sermon, I just don’t like that story.”

Craddock asked, “What is it you don’t like about it?”

He said. “It’s not morally responsible.”

Craddock asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Forgiving that boy,” said the man.

Craddock asked, “Well, what would you have done?”

The man said, “I think when he came home he should’ve been arrested.”

“This fellow was serious,” says Craddock. “He’s an attorney. Craddock thought the man was going to tell him a joke. But he was really serious. This man, according to Craddock, “belonged to this unofficial organization nationwide, never has any meetings and doesn’t have a name, but it’s a very strong network,” which Craddock calls “quality control people. They’re the moral police. Mandatory sentences and no parole, mind you, and executions.”

Craddock asked the man, “What would you have given the prodigal?”

The man said, “Six years.” (1)

Quality control people. Moral police. This man wanted the same strict standards that apply to industry and to the law to apply to relationships within the family, as well as to our relationship with God. “Mandatory sentences and no parole . . . and executions.” Would you want this man to be your Dad? Jesus was telling a parable about God. Would you want God to operate with mandatory sentences for doing wrong? Be careful how you answer, for, according to the Bible, all of us have done wrong.

It’s one of the best known stories in Scripture. “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.” According to some experts, when the younger son demanded his share of the estate, he was saying to his father, “I wish you were dead.”

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 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 men.”’ So he got up and went to his father.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

“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 his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found . . .’” What a wonderful story of grace!

In 1990, Michale Mohr’s son, Jeff, moved to Arizona to work as a computer technician. Michale, back in Portland, Oregon, looked forward to her son’s weekly calls. But after a few years in Arizona, Jeff’s phone calls began to taper off. When Michale’s letters to him were returned, she decided to investigate. Michale found out from Jeff’s friends that he had become addicted to crystal meth, a powerful drug. One day, Jeff had just walked away from his house. No one knew where he was.

For the next three years, Michale Mohr made it her mission in life to find her son. She flew back and forth between Oregon and Arizona, canvassing Jeff’s old neighborhood and talking to his friends and associates. The police offered little help. Michale’s quest to find her drug‑addicted son lead her into dangerous, run‑down neighborhoods. She witnessed horrible decay and poverty in these drug‑infested hellholes. She faced constant threats to her safety. At one point, she even dressed as a homeless woman in order to relate to the street people she interviewed.

Finally, after three years, Michale made contact with someone who knew Jeff. She remembers distinctly the day she found him. Jeff rode up on his bicycle. He had lost weight, his teeth were rotting, he was bruised from a recent beating. But he had ridden on his bicycle for ten miles in the sweltering Arizona heat to find her. They ran into each other’s arms. Jeff had been trying to fight his addiction, but he had been afraid to contact his mother, afraid of how his addiction might hurt her. You will be happy to know that Jeff Mohr moved back to Oregon, got a steady job, and joined Narcotics Anonymous. (2)

Michale Mohr’s story appeared in Newsweek magazine. It is a story that is all too often repeated in families across our land. And don’t think that church families are immune to the curse of losing a child to chemical addiction or even to crime.

Many, many parents in every echelon of society wait and worry about a son or a daughter who has wandered into the far country.

Many years ago, comedian Chonda Pierce met a young woman named December. December’s father was a pastor. December got the message early on that pastor’s children are supposed to be perfect. December knew she would never be good enough for the people at church. So December began rebelling against her family’s and her church’s expectations. By her late teens, she was living on the streets. She spent her nights partying, sleeping with any man who caught her eye. Sometimes, she would slip into her parents’ church during the service, but she always left before anyone could talk to her. After she became pregnant, December decided to return to her parents. She expected shame and condemnation. Instead, December’s parents welcomed her back with open arms. As she says, “The bottom line is that I came back to my family and God because they love me with no strings attached. They forgave me. . . I thought I could do something to make them disown me, but I was wrong.” (3)

It literally could happen in any family, and nothing will tear your heart out like a child who leaves home and nothing is heard from him or her again.

There is a book of tales from Appalachia. It includes some old ghost stories, some of them scary, some funny or eccentric, and some that are just plain tragic.

In Henderson County, North Carolina they tell the story of the ghost that haunts Mount Hebron Church Road. People say that on some nights if you travel down Mount Hebron, you might catch a glimpse of a woman, dressed all in black clothes of a style a century old. She seems agitated, and those who have looked into her face say that it is full of sadness and longing. Anyone foolish enough to try and confront her soon realizes that he is all alone on the road. The woman has seemingly vanished.

Some believe that the apparition is the ghost of a widow who lost her beloved son in the Civil War. She has never reconciled herself to his death, and so she wanders up and down Mount Hebron Church Road, looking for his carriage, waiting for his return from the battlefields. She is doomed to live out her grief and disappointment every night as she realizes that, once again, her son has not come back. (4)

That’s a simple ghost story, but it is the horror of every parent. A child who does not return home. A child addicted to drugs, or in a destructive relationship, or in jail. Some parents know what it is to watch helplessly as their adult child deals with an abusive spouse. The child is not a prodigal, but a victim, but still the parent waits and worries. And then there are those who are off serving the military. They, too, are not prodigals, but it is still hard for those who wait for their return.

Everyone who is a parent can appreciate the agony of the father in Jesus’ story even if your child is still at home. That is why this story has spoken to millions of people throughout the ages. It strikes at the very heart of what it is to be a family.

Of course, in Jesus’ story you and I are the prodigal. Like we say in the prayer, each of us in our own way, like sheep, have gone astray. At some time in our lives all of us have known what it is to be lost.

There was a funny true story years ago out of Oslo, Norway, about a fifty-year- old man named Jermund Skogstad. Jermund was moving into his new apartment when he took a break to get something to eat. He went to a nearby cafe but forgot to take his wallet, which contained his new address. Regrettably, he was unable to find his way home.

“This is embarrassing,” he told a newspaper a month later. He hoped word of his plight would reach his new landlady, to whom he had paid a month’s rent in advance. (5)

I don’t suppose any of you have done anything embarrassing like that? Jermund literally was lost from his home. Have you ever experienced what it is to be lost? Sometimes I think it is easier for some of us to identify with the elder brother than it is for us to identify with the prodigal. After all we don’t feel lost. We’re not bad people. In truth, we’re pretty good people. But friends, there are all kinds of ways to be lost.

The late Alvin Rogness, a former seminary professor and author of the book When Things Go Wrong, once suggested that he would have told the story of the prodigal son in a slightly different way. He would have had the prodigal go to the far country with his inheritance, but instead of having him squander it, he would have had the prodigal invest it in stocks and bonds . . . He would have him become the richest man in the land. Then, one evening when his fellow citizens had thrown a big banquet in his honor, and with everyone fawning over him, he would have had the prodigal come to himself and say “What am I doing here? I don’t belong here. I have done nothing of value with all I have earned, I have only remembered the big I, me, my and mine.”

Alvin Rogness would have had the outrageously successful prodigal return home and confess to his father that he had sinned and was no longer worthy to be his son. He would have had him say to his father, “Let me return home, work on the farm, get my act together, change my priorities, and place less emphasis on me, my and mine, and more on others. Let me make the capital ‘I’ a small ‘I’.” (6)

Do you see? There are all kinds of lost. The prodigal that Jesus described is the prodigal of genuine contriteness. The prodigal that Alvin Rogness described is the prodigal of smug self-sufficiency. The prodigal that the elder brother represents is the prodigal of smug self-righteousness. They are all prodigals, though. There are different ways you can be lost. Each of us has gone astray in our own way.

In Jesus’ story we are the prodigal and the Father, of course, is God. The prodigal son comes to himself and says, “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 men.’ So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him . . .”

It is unique to Jesus that he taught his followers to call God “Abba,” Daddy. God is a like a Daddy who runs out to welcome a son or daughter home. Our relationship with God is a very intimate relationship, a relationship of utter dependence, love and acceptance.

Writer Tom Mullins in his book The Confidence Factor tells about a friend named Dana who was staying at a rehabilitation center in Indiantown, Florida.

Dana was dealing with some destructive issues in his life, so Tom decided to drive out and visit him. As he pulled into the center, Tom was directed to the barn where Dana was working. When Tom found him, Dana was standing knee‑deep in a pigpen with a large can of feed under his arm. He was covered in mud from impatient pigs scurrying to be fed. What a scene. Here was this successful businessman, who was usually well dressed, standing in the thick stench of a muddy pen, feeding pigs on a brutally hot day.

As Tom watched Dana clomp through the mud, he couldn’t help but think about the story of the Prodigal Son. The Prodigal Son had squandered his inheritance, only to find himself sleeping in a pigpen, eating with the swine. Tom says he was overwhelmed at the thought of the miracle God wanted to do through Dana’s life. Tom got out of the car, walked into the muddy stench, and hugged Dana. He told him he loved him and was proud of his efforts to know God and to work through some of the challenges in his life.

Eventually, Dana got his life turned around and his marriage restored. Today, he runs a ministry where hundreds of people find healing and restoration through the power of Christ. Dana was abused as a child. He would be the first to tell you that the key to dealing with the pain and abuse of his childhood was getting his life refocused on God. For years, he tried to mask his pain with alcohol and drugs. He was dealing with his hurt in isolation, decreasing his chances of keeping his life intact. The pigpen experience forced his focus off himself. Once he learned how to trust God with his hurt, he gained confidence to take action and rescue the things that mattered most to him. (7)

My friends, you and I need to refocus our lives on God, whether we’ve strayed only a few baby steps away from God or whether we have taken our inheritance into the far country, the key to regaining our lives is to lose them in trusting God in all things. His grace is sufficient; His love is everlasting. Won’t you come home to the Father’s house?


1. Craddock Stories (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2001).

2. “The Seamier Side of Life” by Michale Mohr, Newsweek, August 18, 1997, p. 14.

3. Chonda Pierce, It’s Always Darkest Before the Fun Comes Up (Grand Rapids, MI.: Zondervan, 1998), pp. 80-84.

4. Carden, Gary and Nina Anderson. Belled Buzzards, Hucksters and Grieving Specters. Appalachian Tales: Strange, True & Legendary (Asheboro, N.C.: Down Home Press, 1994), pp. 5-6.

5. Chuck Shepherd, John J. Kohut, and Roland Sweet, The News of the Weird (New York: Plume, 1989).

6. Pastor Phil Formo, http://www.stlukes.ws/sermons/031807.pdf.

7. The Key to Developing the Winning Edge in Life (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006), pp. 130-131.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Dyanmic Preaching First Quarter 2010, by King Duncan