Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

15 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. ² And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” ³ So he told them this parable:

¹¹ “There was a man who had two sons.¹² The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’ So he divided his assets between them. ¹³ A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant region, and there he squandered his wealth in dissolute living. ¹⁴ When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that region, and he began to be in need. ¹⁵ So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that region, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. ¹⁶ He would gladly have filled his stomach^[b] with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything. ¹⁷ But when he came to his senses he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! ¹⁸ I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; ¹⁹ I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ ²⁰ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. ²¹ Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’^[c] 22 But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. ²³ And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate, ²⁴ for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

²⁵ “Now his elder son was in the field, and as he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. ²⁶ He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. ²⁷ He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.’ ²⁸ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. ²⁹ But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. ³⁰ But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your assets with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ ³¹ Then the father^[d] said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. ³² But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

Some scriptures sound ancient and strange, like we just brushed off mummy dust to read them. But today’s passage about the prodigal son hits us with so much emotional resonance that we feel shot through the heart. Most families have lived through one of these soul-shaking events. A child rebels and leaves home in anger. Someone makes a terrible mistake but never reaches out because of shame or a belief they are cut off forever. Sibling rivalry keeps a family tied in knots for decades. These estrangements inflict wounds that are hard to heal. Love hurts, as the Scottish heavy metal band Nazareth sang during my teenage years. We played this song every time we got dumped:

Love hurts, love scars
Love wounds and marks
Any heart

https://youtu.be/soDZBW-1P04

It's popular to focus on the joyous turnaround part of the story. We like narratives where the main character crashes and burns, and then rises from the ashes to a better life. Rocky Balboa goes from washed-up boxer to champion. In Les Mis, Jean Valjean, once a convict with no future, is transformed by grace and devotes his life to passing it on. Tara Westover’s memoir “Educated” tells her story of escaping from a cultish family, but not without deep inner conflict and painful transformation.

Jesus’ parable captures an epic story in just 20 verses—but let’s not rush to the happy ending. Before the celebration, there is pain. There are clues in the story that show how love hurts for each character. The father, son, and brother are each wounded in this story. Hurt people get defensive. They withdraw, cut people off, or blame and scapegoat others. Each character must learn to move toward openness and growth to heal their heart and the relationship.

To understand the parable’s full force, we need to step back and consider the context. At the start of Luke 15, the Pharisees are grumbling because Jesus is eating with tax collectors and sinners. They think he should not be associating with those people. Pharisees want to be clear: who are the righteous people, who are the sinners, who is in and who is out. They would have loved Westerns because all you had to do was look at the color of the hat, white or black.

Jesus responds with not one, not two, but three parables about the joy of finding something lost. A woman finds a valuable coin. A shepherd searches for a lost sheep. A father welcomes a lost son. When loss and brokenness are overcome, we should rejoice, not be upset because people don’t neatly fit into our categories of who is in and who is out of our circle.

That said, I don’t think Jesus is telling us to ignore harmful and destructive behavior. The parable is not about a battered woman welcoming back her abuser for the sake of forgiveness. Jesus also told his disciples to shake the dust off their feet when they were not well received. Don’t throw your pearls before swine. You don’t have to give away all your heart has to offer to people who refuse to respect and appreciate who you are. If Jesus knew modern psychology, I think he would agree that healthy boundaries are good. But don’t make your boundaries so tight that you are inflexible, put people in a box, and don’t allow for change and transformation.

Let’s start with the character of the father. His younger son wants his inheritance. We all know how inheritances work. You receive a portion of a relative’s estate when they die. What the son is saying to the father is, “You are dead to me.” If you were in the parent’s shoes, how would you react? Would you refinance your house, break into your 401K, and give your child their inheritance while you are still alive? I’m guessing not because this request is bonkers! A reasonable parent might say, “I’ll help with college, or I’ll give you a security deposit for an apartment, and if you want to make your way, get a job.”

What could explain the father’s extravagant generosity in the face of such an outrageous request? Did he feel guilty for not being home more? Did he feel like a failure? Was he at his wits end with a selfish son? Or was he so generous of spirit that he would risk so much out of love? Whatever the father’s reason for the gift, I can imagine the heart constricting in his chest as the son goes out to the world ill-prepared and over-financed. Did he look down the road daily, longing to see a lone figure walking back? Remember, this parable follows the lost sheep, where the shepherd leaves the flock to find the one, but here, the father must let go of the sheep to find his way. Control is not the answer. The father risks hoping that his son will learn how to be free.

While the father waits with an aching heart, the younger son is busy unraveling. He quickly uses his new freedom and fortune. “squandering his property in wild living.” The Greek word “asozo” shows the sons behavior to be more self-destructive. “Sozo” means to save. The son acts “asozo,” the opposite of saving. He loses everything and ends up alone in a time of famine. The terrible failure ends at a pigsty, where the son starves for the pig’s food. I raised hogs, and I like them. But Jewish dietary codes forbid pork as spiritually unclean. There is no such thing as the Jewish Pork Producers Council. He has hit bottom.

As the son wrestles with shame, he remembers life on the farm. Dad’s looking pretty good right now. The parable says, “he came to himself.” He lost himself along the way. His self-image, integrity, and worth are shattered. Too often, in despair, we think there is no going back. The bridge is burned. There is no welcome home. People accept failure as an identity. Sometimes, they blame others to avoid self-loathing. But this man comes to himself. He sees his error and is willing to risk humiliation and rejection to find himself. So, the son practices this little speech he plans to say:

Father, I’ve sinned against God; I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.’

Perhaps he repeats this speech hundreds of times on the long walk home. But he never gets to say it. Upon arrival, the father brushes it aside with an extravagant welcome. We might expect the father to say, “What do you have to say for yourself? Did you learn your lesson?” Had the father gone through months of doubt? Did he harbor any resentment? Instead, he runs his son, a culturally undignified thing to do. He kisses him repeatedly and throws a party with great indulgence.

Hollywood would have ended the movie with this triumphant reunion. But the older son has feelings, too. It’s easy to condemn him for being jealous and lacking in charity for his brother. But wouldn’t you be miffed? Your irresponsible younger sibling comes home smelling like a pig and gets a party. Classic family dynamics where the older sibling feels like they have to carry the load and younger siblings get all the breaks. (Or if you are a younger sibling, classic first-born who always thinks they are the boss of me.). When these things don’t get sorted out, I’ve watched people in their sixties still fighting out sibling rivalry at a parent’s funeral.

Kudos to the father for paying attention to the oldest son’s hurt. It’s painful to feel taken for granted. The father reminds him that everything he has belongs to the son, addressing the insecurity of connection. When we feel insecure, it is hard to celebrate someone else’s good fortune. But this can lead to bitterness and trap us in smallness.

C.S. Lewis once wrote,

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is Hell.”

That’s the truth this parable lays bare. Love will always carry risk. To open your arms means opening your heart to pain—but also to joy, to healing, to reunion.

So, we come back to the origin of the parable. The Pharisees can’t accept that people once on the outside and be welcomed equally into the Beloved Community. Ultimately, the risk of freedom is the risk of love—love that waits, hopes, and opens its arms, even when it hurts.

But love also sets boundaries. The father in this story doesn’t chase his son or shield him from the consequences of his choices. He lets him go, not out of indifference, but out of hope that he will find his way home.

That’s the tension we live in. Real love doesn’t enable harm—but it also refuses to shut the door forever. It leaves the porch light on.

So where in your life are you being called to risk freedom today? To step out of shame? To release control? To hold a boundary—but keep your heart open?

The father in the story ran toward his son, not because he forgot the pain—but because love still had the final word. Love always carries risk. But the greater risk is living without it.