Historic First Lutheran Church of Pasadena

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Our text this morning is the first verse of our Second Reading – “So, from now on, we regard no one from a worldly point of view.”

And, in true Lutheran fashion, we ask ourselves, “What does this mean?”

And, to answer that question, we turn our attention to our Gospel, to that familiar story that we know as Jesus’ Parable of the Prodigal Son, which is often also called Jesus’ Parable of the Loving Father. But, this morning, for the sake of answering the question “What does it mean to no longer regard anyone from a worldly point of view?,” we’re going to call it Jesus’ Parable of the Prodigal Sons (plural).

Oh, that’s a story we can all tell from memory, but listen to it again, this time from the Pastor Schaar version of the Bible:

There’s this wealthy family and the younger son grows a little cocky. He’s always been spoiled, but this time he really gets his nose bent out of shape about something and decides that’s it. He’s had enough. No need for him to put up with this any longer. He wants his inheritance now and he’s out of here. Gracious, loving father amazingly concedes to the younger son and turns over to him half of all he owns. He stands and watches and nods and waves as the younger son heads for the wild, wild west. Gracious, loving father knows full well what’s going to happen. He pulls out his calendar and starts marking the days until the money is exhausted and younger son will return. Sure enough, just as predicted, when the money runs out, younger son comes home, tail between his legs. He’s rehearsed a wonderful time of groveling and begging and pleading, but that’s not needed. Gracious, loving father has had a party in the planning since younger son left. Now it’s time to celebrate. All is incredibly awesome until son number 1 – you know – the stable one; the responsible one; the loyal one; the one who’s never caused any problems – comes trotting home after a long day of manual labor under the hot sun in the family fields. He comes close to suffering a self-inflicted stroke when he learns that no good brother of his has come home and that his father has had the wool pulled over his eyes once again by that spoiled brat. He has the audacity to call dad out and demand to know what’s going on, giving good old dad a royal dressing down, reminding him in no uncertain terms that he’s never even asked him for one lousy favor and what has he ever gotten? Gracious, loving father, instead of showing son number 1 the backside of his hand, simply says, “Oh, be quiet. Don’t be silly. All that’s mine is yours. Now come on inside and let’s celebrate.”

Every time you hear that story – no matter what version you hear – I know you are asked, “So, which of the three players are you?” Very rarely – if ever – do we ever claim the role of gracious, loving father, although I know there are many of you parents out there who have done just that with your children. Most often – in fact, probably all the time – we see a lot of the younger son in ourselves, those times we have wandered away because we know best, only to return embarrassed and groveling time after time. But have you ever cast yourself in the role of the jealous, judgmental, “Type-A,” “what’s right is right and what’s wrong is wrong” older brother? I think that’s even a less desirable role than that of the younger son because at least with the younger son there is a happy ending, peaceful, joyful resolution. With the older son, there is no resolution. We’re just left hanging. Did older brother finally relent and go inside and throw back a couple of beers with dad and bro? Or did he go sit down on a local hill, close enough to watch and listen, but just far enough away to make his point? You have to wonder how long he sat there, if he ever let go of his feelings?

It’s the older brother that portrays for us the mind set St. Paul was talking about when he wrote, “So, from now on, we regard no one from a worldly point of view.”

That’s a tall order. It’s hard to divorce our human nature from ourselves. It’s hard to change the way we think and feel and act – which are probably the ways we’ve thought and felt and acted our entire lives, probably even the ways our parents before us thought and felt and acted. It seems that it’s much easier to pass judgments based upon assumptions and conditioning. It’s much easier to walk by that homeless person standing on the street corner or in front of the grocery store and say, “Go get a job.” It’s much easier to look at that casually dressed person sitting in church next to us and say, “Well, that’s certainly not the proper way to dress for church.” It’s much easier to look upon someone with a preventable disease and say, “You’re sick because of your lifestyle choices.” It’s much easier to greet that inactive member on Easter Sunday with a snide remark like, “Oh, it must be Christmas or Easter!” It’s much easier to steer clear of that person who annoys us and say, “Thank God I’m not that annoying!” You can probably think of more examples of your own that remind you and me that we’re probably much more like the older prodigal brother than we sometimes like to think – fiercely opinionated and perfectly content to stay that way. After all, that’s who we are.

But listen again to St. Paul’s words, “So, from now on, we regard no one from a worldly point of view.” That statement begs the questions, “How? How do we do that? How can we do that? Why? What should we do that? Why can we do that? What’s the trigger? What sets in motion that ‘So, from now on....’?”

St. Paul himself gives us the answer. Listen to these two verses just before our text: “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that One died for all, and therefore all died. And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for Him Who died for them and was raised again” [2 Corinthians 5:14-15].

Think how easy it would have been for God to take the stance we often take – the unsympathetic, opinionated “I’m right; you’re wrong – even if you prove me otherwise” stance. And, unlike us, God had every right to take that stance, except for His unfathomably great love that does not permit Him to enjoy even one prodigal to remain that way. It’s that great love that He showed each of us on Calvary, suffering and dying for us, telling us in no uncertain terms that no matter who we are, no matter what we have done against Him or ourselves or anyone else, no matter how undeserving we are, no matter how many times we’ve wandered, no matter how many times we’ve ungratefully and unashamedly squandered His riches, He loves us unconditionally. Because of Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection, God can do nothing but love us.

So, from now on ...

Those words send chills up and down our spine because, in our minds, they are words that convict and condemn us when we stop to realize how often we’ve not allowed the Cross of Jesus to change the way we think and feel and act. But to God, those are words of hope because they don’t refer to yesterday. They refer only to right now. And that’s the only way God operates [Isaiah 43:18; Psalm 103:8-12].

“So, from now on, we regard no one from a worldly point of view.” “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that One died for all, and therefore all died. And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for Him Who died for them and was raised again.”

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Pastor Christopher Schaar
Historic First Lutheran Church of Pasadena