During Lent I’m going to preach a few sermons on Stories Jesus Tells, and with each one I’m going to focus on an idea that is at the heart of Jesus’ ministry. We’ll be talking about ideas like justice, mercy, sacrifice, love, and today we’re going to start with joy—not momentary happiness, or naïve fleeting pleasure, but the kind of deep joy we see in Jesus—the way his love emerges in the hardships of life.
I have been thinking a lot about stories lately, and about storytelling. It is kind of an obvious thing for a preacher to think about: We are here because of the story of Jesus; Jesus tells stories; and as a church, our work is to keep telling these stories in a way that draws people closer to God.
So as we look at stories Jesus tells, we’re going to do so through a certain kind of storytelling Jesus does. I wonder if you’ve ever been stuck in a story you needed to escape from. Sometimes there are stories we’ve heard about how the world works, and that we’ve been telling ourselves for a long time, stories about history, or our families, or ourselves, and often these stories are false and they’re harmful, but we keep telling them. And what we need in life is clever people who help us correct those stories so that we can tell a better story. I’m going to show you one example of how Jesus does this through a story many of you have heard before: the Prodigal Son—a story about reclaiming joy.
I want to show you what I mean by inviting you to go with me into Jesus’ story about the Prodigal Son, a story most of are used to if we have spent time in church. It’s about the son who takes his part of the inheritance early, goes away and squanders it, and later is welcomed home with open arms. It is a story about love and redemption and forgiveness, about being lost and being found, and it’s a story about reclaiming joy.
In the Prodigal son we meet this young man who makes a big mistake and gets stuck: he leaves a good life at home and soon finds his life in ruins. Some of you have probably heard a sermon about what an insult it would have been in the ancient world for the son to ask for his inheritance early; of course, that would also be an incredible insult today. His attitude toward the mom and dad who raised him is essentially to say, “You are worth more to me dead than alive.” And then he goes to Vegas and squanders his inheritance with partying in clubs and gambling on FanDuel until there’s nothing left.
It takes some real pain for this young man to realize how wrong he was; you can imagine the modern possible scenarios for a young man who goes astray like this: the key phrases include : overdose, nights in jail; beaten up and left in an alley. And he’s just a kid. This is probably the same kid who once won the little league championship or played first chair trumpet in the Walnut Hills orchestra. But not right now, because right now this young man is lost. Thank God he was raised with enough good sense that he finally makes his escape and heads for home. But he has no expectation of being his father’s son again, because he is so filled with shame he cannot even lift his head. He is stuck in a story of shame that says he can no longer be loved.
What’s amazing about the power of shame is that you don’t have to be nearly as hopeless as the boy in this story to feel the overwhelming power of shame. People in this room, I am guessing, have experienced shame over lots of common things: a marriage that didn’t work out, or a bad investment, or a drinking habit that got out of control–all problems that are indeed solvable, but sometimes so deep is our shame that we can’t imagine how to begin in turning our lives around. We get stuck in a story of shame and guilt.
When the boy in the story finally makes the decision to return to his father’s house, the story has it’s great reveal. Beyond anything the boy had hoped for, the father sees him coming, runs from the front gate, throws his arms about his son, and calls for a feast to be prepared. He was lost, and is found. There is no cause for shame; the father wants to tell a better story.
The older brothers has his own negative and harmful story; and that story is also powerful because it is equally relatable. He’s not stuck in shame, he’s stuck in something else, equally common, he’s stuck in anger, self-righteousness, and judgment—and make no mistake, those things will eat a person alive. He walks in from the field hears the music and the shouting coming from the party tent, and it triggers him in a big way. He is in disbelief. He’s done everything right. He stayed home and worked, went to church on Sunday, saved his money, kept out of the bars and the brothels, and his good behavior has birthed in him a real resentment for any time he sees the wicked prosper, and for anyone who has made a mistake—anyone he things is not as good as he is. And then his wayward brother comes back to town. Do you know what judgment and self-righteousness feels like? I bet a lot of us do. We feel it when we harbor anger and hatred toward someone we don’t like. We feel it when someone disagrees with us politically or about some public issue and we just can’t get them to see it our way. These feelings can be so strong, and frankly, are so common, that I bet you can taste it—I know I can. Well, when the older son in this story complains to his father about the party he’s thrown for the Prodigal Son, the father finds a kind way to tell him to knock it off—and why? Because he loves his older son too, and he knows that carrying around that kind of anger and resentment will eat you alive; it is toxic—it’s tearing his spirit apart. He needs to be introduced to a different story—that he can love and accept his brother, who yes, was lost, but now is found.
So you see that in this story we have two sons who are both struggling with a story of a lot of brokenness and pain…and their father wants to help them through it. One was experiencing a life overwhelmed by shame and guilt, and the other overwhelmed by anger and resentment. Neither one of them could imagine that there was another story for their life. But there is another story; there is another way to live. The better story is based in letting go of the shame of the past; the better story is about second chances; the better story is about letting go of the anger and resentment that have us trapped. And God wants us to start telling ourselves that story instead—a story shaped by joy, because the world may be far from perfect, but God loves us in the midst of it.
Joyful people are not naïve, nor are they ignorant to the suffering of the world, but they have come to believe that we can pay attention to the hardships and sufferings of this world without allowing ourselves to be buried by them—without allowing those things to be the end of the story.
The father in this story has this kind of deep joy. Most of us can think of at least one person we know who exudes this kind of joy, and if you can, you know that its magnetic—we are all drawn to people who we know have seen some hard times and yet who have a strength of spirit that you can see has carried them through.
We have new church leaders being ordained today, and as we formally call you into service, it’s a good reminder that Christians are called to tell the better story. A lot of people see the church as a place of shame and guilt, and because they have plenty enough of that in their lives already, why would they come to church and get more of it. We have to be about telling a better, different story, that is about grace, forgiveness, and joy, that admits that all of us are in some way lost and welcomes us to be found again by joy.
There are also a lot of people who perceive the church as being a place of anger, and resentment, and judgment. Christians in our culture are becoming increasingly identified with his kind of anger, judgment and retribution, and that’s not what we’re about either. Here our story is not about rage, but peace, it’s not about revenge, but grace.
The true story of Christ is not stuck in shame and guilt or anger and resentment—but that’s the way a lot of people see the church. So we have to work hard as we share the story of God, to be sure that we’re telling a story of joy. That in our words and in our living, we pay attention to the sufferings going on in the world, but refuse to allow them to overwhelm us. That we call people to act responsibly, but don’t make their past inescapable. That we acknowledge there are things in the world to be angry about, but that we won’t allow vengeance and resentment to govern the way we treat one another.
In the weeks to come, we’ll look at additional stories in which Jesus takes his joyful way of living and turns it into justice that has the power to heal, loving responses to hate, and sacrifices that lead to new life. These are the stories of Jesus. Amen.