Carry On Wayward Son (Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32)
Rev. Peter Heckert
03/27/22

+ Grace to you, and peace, from God our heavenly Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. + Amen.

The text for our meditation for this fourth Sunday in Lent comes from our Gospel text, especially where Jesus concludes His parable by saying, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” Here ends our text; my dear Christian friends …

I know I’m dating myself, but the first time I heard the song “Carry On, Wayward Son” by Kansas was when I was in high school playing the video game, “Guitar Hero 2.” I know that’s sad, but ever since, I’ve loved the song. It’s truly unique, especially among other rock songs from the 70s. In doing a little digging for the purpose of this sermon, I learned something. The writer of the song, guitarist Kerry Livgren, became a Christian several years later, and said that this song was formational to him being drawn to Christ.

I wonder if he was thinking of this parable about the Prodigal Son when he wrote it. You can probably see why I’d say that, as the parallels between the song’s lyrics and the story of the parable are significant. “Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high. Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man; though my mind could think, I still was a mad man. … Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know. On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about, I’m like a ship on the ocean. I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say ….” I wouldn’t be surprised if the Prodigal Son himself, as he’s walking back to his father, was thinking something similar, reflecting on where he’s been, what he’s done, and the foolishness he’s partaken in.

He thought he knew better than everyone else, certainly better than his father, so he took the inheritance set aside for him and set off for a faraway country. There, Jesus says, “he squandered his property in reckless living.” Things only got worse for the son, as a severe famine hit that country, and penniless, he hired himself out to work with and feed pigs; filthy, foul-smelling, theologically unclean pigs. So great was his need, and so desperate, that he yearned for the food he gave the animals in his care, and Jesus tells us, “no one gave him anything.” Nobody cared about him. He was alone, isolated, destitute, and desperate. It’s only then that he comes to his senses and realizes that there’s nothing for him there. He needs to go back home, in shame, and do whatever he can; at least there, he has people who might take pity on him. At least he can work for some food so he won’t starve. 

That’s the expectation: nothing. “I screwed up, big time, and no doubt my father has disowned me. I deserve nothing but contempt for how I’ve lived. But maybe, just maybe, my father will let me work for him.” This is what he’s thinking as he’s on the road for home. He’s just hoping for scraps, “But,” Jesus continues, “while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”  I can only imagine the bewilderment on the son’s face, as he’s trying to explain his plan to his father, “I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” The father’s having none of it – perhaps he’s simply too overjoyed to hear his son’s pleas for scraps, but he calls out to his servants, “Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”

This is easily one of the best known of Jesus’s parables, and it’s easy to see why. It’s so accessible. Regardless of one’s faith, every person on this planet has done things for which he or she is ashamed. Each and every one of us has skeletons in our closets; each of us knows what it is to realize that we’re wrong. For us Christians, however, it goes beyond that. We recognize that for any one of our sins, let alone them all, we deserve nothing but death and damnation. When we make confession of our sins every week, we rightly confess that we deserve nothing but God’s “present and eternal punishment.” Week in and week out, we come here, to this place, knowing the good that we should have done, but didn’t; and the evil we should have refrained from, but didn’t. That’s the reality. We deserve death and hell because we are the wayward sons and daughters.

However, Martin Luther once famously preached, “So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: ‘I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!’” Christ is the only reason we can so boldly and confidently proclaim this. In His life, death, and resurrection from the dead, Jesus made full atonement, full payment, for all our sins. In the waters of Holy Baptism, His sacrifice is applied personally to you and to me, as He clothes us in … well, Himself. The robe of His righteousness is given in that blessed deluge, and now, when the Father looks at us, He sees not us and our sins; He sees only His only-begotten Son.

In spite of our deserving death and hell, when we come before our Lord and our God in repentance and contrition, our heavenly Father simply throws His arms around us, drowns us in His joyful tears, and celebrates that we, who were once dead, are alive again in His Son. We, who were once lost, are again found in Him. It’s easy to think that we’re too sinful for God to ever forgive us, but that’s the whole reason Jesus came in the first place: to save us wayward sons and daughters. “Carry on, my wayward son; there’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest! Don’t you cry no more!”

+ In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. + Amen.