Building Bridges Instead of Walls

Luke 15:11b-32; 2 Cor. 5:16-21

 

When a story begins, “A man had two sons,” you can bet the bank that conflict is on the horizon. Think Jacob and Esau. Think Joseph and his brothers. If you must, think Cain and Abel. Each story begins with conflict that resulted in a Godly intervention. When Jesus began, “A man had two sons,” the listeners expected the worst.

This is a story of two boys coming of age on an unlevel playing field. The older son holds all the cards. Being an oldest child I could whine about all the responsibility placed on my shoulders. I could lie about how difficult it was to set a lasting example for my younger sisters but the truth is, with age comes advantage. My sisters know I am my mother’s favorite son. I was the first and they shall always be the later. We who were born first all know that with our elder status comes privilege.

The younger brother understood the house of his birth would never be the home of his future. According to tribal law, the older brother would eventually inherit the farm.  Therefore the younger sibling plotted a clean break from his existing circumstances. Declaring himself both mature and independent, he presents his case. “Father, let me make a life for myself. Bless me with what will eventually be mine, allowing me the chance to make you proud before you die. Let me expand on the legacy you have created.” Poor delusional boy, he imagined his intentions to be as legitimate as his petition. But they were not.

The inheritance the son was given had not been earned. Predictably it quickly vanished into the night. When nothing was left, the prodigal’s friends and his dignity disappeared. All that remained was a memory of yesterday. Fortunately, memory can be a powerful motivator.

When one is sitting in a pile of pig slop, and I imagine we have all been there, memories of the past often eliminate the reasons we rushed so quickly into the future. The son dreamed of his father’s farm, a place where even the lowest slave had a roof over her head. So this self-proclaimed man, who was still no more than a boy, cleaned himself up and headed home.

You know the ending. From a distance the father saw the son. He ran to greet his long lost prodigal. The reckless actions of the past were forgiven, thoughts of the boy becoming a slave were dismissed and a party was thrown in his honor. All that remained was a difficult but revealing conversation with an embittered older brother and the silent but haunting single word that must arise within the heart of any responsible person who encounters this story. 

WHY?

When someone takes advantage our generosity, WHY is reconciliation our responsibility?

When someone lies, WHY should we care for them?

When someone disrupts our lives due to their immaturity, WHY must we be the adult?

WHY must we be the ones to build a bridge when a wall would be a whole lot more practical?

WHY does God ask us to be accountable for the irresponsible? WHY is God always seeking a way where no way seems feasible? WHY does God want us to pursue a future that seems rift with conflict, distrust and alienation? I wish I had a good answer. I don’t pretend to understand the mind of God and I don’t believe God desires us to part of process that further enslaves someone who has sinned. Yet there is no denying forgiveness and reconciliation seems real high on God’s priority list.

The night of the arrest of Jesus, the disciples once again listened to talk of the coming days. But this time his words seemed closer to home. Jesus talked about betrayal and desertion. Finally Peter got fed up with Jesus telling him what the disciples would or would not do. Using words that would later haunt him Peter proudly proclaimed, “Jesus, I can’t speak for anyone else but I will never deny you, I will never desert you, and if Pilate drags you off to prison he will have to drag me as well. Where you go, I will follow.”

Hours later Peter was hiding in the shadows, running for his life, denying he ever met Jesus. The next day, when Jesus died, Peter was nowhere to be found.

Days passed and Peter returned to his old life and habits. He went fishing. He wondered what had become of the brash and confident man he had once been. Seeing no future, he returned to a dark past, destined to be enslaved by a memory. But Jesus would not let him stay there.  “Peter, can you fix me some breakfast?”

Ever been in that situation where you know you are as guilty as sin and have run out of options. The excuses have run thin and the lies have been exposed. Now it is just you and your transgression, hanging in mid-air like a guillotine, waiting to begin its fatal descent.

The last thing Peter wanted to do was have breakfast with Jesus. Food would lead to words and Peter had no desire to talk about his denial. He preferred to crawl behind the wall constructed by his fears. But Jesus knew silence was an opium rather than a cure.

“Peter, do you love me?” How each syllable must have pricked the very soul of Peter.

“Peter, do you love me?” Peter placed his hands over his ears knowing what was surely coming next.

“Peter, do you love me?” There it was; three times; once for each transgression. Would Jesus now be satisfied?

Peter cried out, “Of course I love you. I failed, I might fail again, but I love you. Have mercy upon me.”

Jesus responded, “Feed my sheep.”

(stop)

Nowhere in scripture can I find that a wrong, once forgiven, disappears. The stain and the consequences are as much a part of us as our DNA. What grace does is allows us to move forward. What grace does is unshackle us from the chains that would enslave us to our past.

But grace is not a one way street. Sometimes we are Peter. But just as often we are the one who has been wronged, or slandered, or lied about. That puts us in a difficult position. Why should I, the wounded, be concerned about the one responsible for my pain?

I don’t have a snappy answer. All I know is that in the story, the father welcomes the prodigal home. The inheritance is gone, never to be recovered. The past cannot be rewritten. But a new future can be scripted because a boy enslaved by his transgressions has been freed to try once again to be a man.

Desmond TuTu, someone who knows a little bit about being slandered and ridiculed remarked, “Without forgiveness, there can be no future for reconciliation between individuals or nations.”  

Dealing with the transgressions of nations is certainly beyond my pay grade. But being merciful, being grace filled toward someone whose name I know is only possible if I remember that grace is there to be both received and given.  Perhaps that’s what makes grace so scandalously difficult.

Help me God to live up to our covenant.          Amen