He said, “A certain man had two sons.
Parallel Translations
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He said, “A certain man had two sons.
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And he sayde: a certayne man had two sonnes
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He sayde moreouer, A certaine man had two sonnes.
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Geneva Bible translators 1599 · Public Domain Men by their voluntary falling from God, having spoiled…
Men by their voluntary falling from God, having spoiled themselves of the benefits which they received of him, cast themselves headlong into infinite calamities: but God of his singular goodness, offering himself freely to them, whom he called to repentance, through the greatness of their misery wherewith they were tamed, doth not only gently receive them, but also enricheth them with far greater gifts, and blesseth them with the chiefest bliss.
Geneva Bible (1599) marginal notes — public domain.
John Trapp 1656 · Public Domain 11 And he said, A certain man had two…
11 And he said, A certain man had two sons:
Ver. 11. And he said] A third parable to the same purpose: and all to persuade us of God’s readiness to receive returning sinners. This is not so easily believed, indeed, as most men imagine.
John Trapp, A Commentary or Exposition upon All the Books of the Old and New Testament (1647–1656) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Matthew Poole 1685 · Public Domain The scope of this excellent parable is apparently to…
The scope of this excellent parable is apparently to magnify the grace of God, who is willing to receive and to treat kindly the greatest transgressors, seriously repenting, and turning unto God; but in it we are also,
1. Instructed in the original state of man, like that of a child in his father’s house, happy and wanting nothing.
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2. The most miserable estate of fallen men, such especially as run to great excess of riot.
3. The true way of a sinner’s returning to God.
4. The readiness of our gracious Father to receive, and his wonderful kindness in the receiving and embracing, repenting and returning sinners.
5. The envy that is sometimes found in good souls to others receiving (as they think) more favour from God than they do.
6. The gentleness and meekness of God in dealing with us, notwithstanding our infirmities and misbecoming passions.
God is again here represented under the notion of a man who had two sons: some that are his children by regeneration as well as creation; he having given them that believe a right to be called the sons of God, Joh 1:12. Others that are his sons by creation only. The latter are here represented under the notion of a younger son. This younger son is represented as dissatisfied with living in his father’s house, desiring his portion, &c. All men and women by nature were equally the sons of God, being all in Adam, who was so. All men swerved from him; in Adam all sinned, all died. But some again by grace are returned to their Father’s house. Others challenge a relation to God, as his creatures, but are not of their Father’s house, but desire only a portion of the good things of this life. Some desire honours, some riches, all of them life and health, &c. God, like a liberal father, gives some of these good things to one, others to another; to some more than one kind of them: whatever they have of this nature is from him who maketh his sun to shine and his rain to fall upon the just and unjust. Wicked men, when they are thus furnished by God, quickly take their
journey into a far country, are more alienated and estranged from God by lewd and wicked practices than they were by nature; waste their substance, the health of their bodies, their time of life, their estates, their great and honourable capacities, by giving up themselves to lewd and riotous kinds of life, to the high dishonour of Almighty God. It pleaseth God by his providence sometimes to bring these men into straits; when they are so brought, they will take any base, sordid course to relieve themselves, rather than they will think of returning to their heavenly Father; of themselves they will rather choose to serve swine. But if they be such as belong to God’s election of grace, the providence of God will not leave them. Though there be little food for a soul in the husks of sensible satisfactions, yet they shall not have a bellyful of them. God will bring them off from satisfaction in any thing, and make every condition uneasy to them.
Matthew Poole's English Annotations on the Holy Bible (1683–1685) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.
William Burkitt 1703 · Public Domain In the two former parables of the lost sheep…
In the two former parables of the lost sheep and lost goat, was represented to us the great pains and care which Christ takes for the recovery of lost sinners. In this third parable of this prodigal son, is shadowed forth unto us, with what great readiness, joy, and gladness, our heavenly Father receives repenting and returning sinners.
In the face of the prodigal, as in a glass, we may behold, first, a riotous sinner’s aversion from God.
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Secondly, a penitent sinner’s conversion to God.
Thirdly, a pardoned sinner’s acceptance and entertainment with God.
From the whole learn, 1. What is the nature of sin, and the practice of sinners. Sin is a departing from God, and every sinner does voluntarily and of his own accord depart from him: He took his journey into a far country.
Learn, 2. The great extravagancy which sinners run into when they forsake God, and give up themselves to the conduct of their lusts and vile affections; he wasted all his substance with riotous living; that is, spent his time, and consumed his treasure, in riot and excess.
Observe, 3. That sin will certainly bring men into streights, but streights do not always bring men off from sin: he began to be in want, yet thinks not of returning to his father’s house.
Observe, 4. That sinners will try all ways, and go through the greatest hardships and difficulties, before they will leave their sins, and return home to their heavenly Father: He joined himself to a citizen of that country; and went into the fields to feed swine. He chooses rather to feed at the hog’s trough, than to feast in his father’s house.
Observe, 5. At last the happy fruits of a sanctified affliction: they put the prodigal upon serious consideration: He came to himself; upon wise consultation; I perish with hunger: and upon a fixed resolution; I will arise and go to my father. Serious consideration, and solid resolutions, are great steps to a sound conversion, and thorough reformation.
Observe, 6. The affectionate tenderness and compassion of the father towards the returning prodigal: though he had deserved to be sharply reproved, severely corrected, and finally rejected and shut out of doors; yet the father’s compassion is above his anger: not a word of his miscarriages drops from his father’s mouth, but as soon as ever the son looks back, mercy looks out and the father expresses,
1. His speedy readiness to receive his son, He ran unto him: the son did only arise and go, but the father made haste and ran; mercy has not only a quick eye to spy out a penitent, but a swift foot; it turns to embrace a penitent.
2. Wonderful tenderness, He fell upon his neck: it had been much to have looked upon him with the eye, more to have taken him by the hand, but most of all to fall upon his neck. Divine mercy will not only meet a penitent, but embrace him also.
3. Strong affectionateness: He kissed him; giving him thereby a pledge and assurance of perfect friendship and reconciliation with him.
Learn hence, that God is not only ready to give demonstrations of his mercy to penitent sinners, but also to give the seals and tokens of his special reconciled favor to them; they shall now have the kisses of his lips, who formerly deserved the blows of his hand: The father ran unto him, fell on his neck, and kissed him.
Observe, lastly, the great joy that appeared in the whole house, as well as in the father’s heart, upon this great occasion, the prodigal son’s returning: They all began to be merry, there was music and dancing.
Learn hence, that sincere conversion brings the soul into a joyful, into a very joyful state and condition. The joy that conversion brings is an holy and spiritual joy, a solid and substantial joy, a wonderful and transcendent joy, an increasing and never-fading joy. Our joy on earth is an earnest of the joys of heaven, where there will be rejoicing in the presence of our heavenly Father and his holy angels to all eternity: because we were dead, but are now alive again; we were lost, but are found.
William Burkitt's Expository Notes on the New Testament (1700–1703) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Matthew Henry 1710 · Public Domain We have here the parable of the prodigal son,…
We have here the parable of the prodigal son, the scope of which is the same with those before, to show how pleasing to God the conversion of sinners is, of great sinners, and how ready he is to receive and entertain such, upon their repentance; but the circumstances of the parable do much more largely and fully set forth the riches of gospel grace than those did, and it has been, and will be while the world stands, of unspeakable use to poor sinners, both to direct and to encourage them in repenting and returning to God. Now,
I. The parable represents God as a common Father to all mankind, to the whole family of Adam. We are all his offspring, have all one Father, and one God created us, Mal 2:10. From him we had our being, in him we still have it, and from him we receive our maintenance. He is our Father, for he has the educating and portioning of us, and will put us in his testament, or leave us out, according as we are, or are not, dutiful children to him. Our Saviour hereby intimates to those proud Pharisees that these publicans and sinners, whom they thus despised, were their brethren, partakers of the same nature, and therefore they ought to be glad of any kindness shown them. God is the God, not of the Jews only, but of the Gentiles, (Rom 3:29): the same Lord over all, that is rich in mercy to all that call upon him.
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II. It represents the children of men as of different characters, though all related to God as their common Father. He had two sons, one of them a solid grave youth, reserved and austere, sober himself, but not at all good-humoured to those about him; such a one would adhere to his education, and not be easily drawn from it; but the other volatile and mercurial, and impatient of restraint, roving, and willing to try his fortune, and, if he fall into ill hands, likely to be a rake, notwithstanding his virtuous education. Now this latter represents the publicans and sinners, whom Christ is endeavouring to bring to repentance, and the Gentiles, to whom the apostles were to be sent forth to preach repentance. The former represents the Jews in general, and particularly the Pharisees, whom he was endeavouring to reconcile to that grace of God which was offered to, and bestowed upon, sinners.
The younger son is the prodigal, whose character and case are here designed to represent that of a sinner, that of every one of us in our natural state, but especially of some. Now we are to observe concerning him,
1. His riot and ramble when he was a prodigal, and the extravagances and miseries he fell into. We are told,
(1.) What his request to his father was (Luk 15:12): He said to his father, proudly and pertly enough, "Father, give me" - he might have put a little more in his mouth, and have said, Pray give me, or, Sir, if you please, give me, but he makes an imperious demand - "give me the portion of goods that falleth to me; not so much as you think fit to allot to me, but that which falls to me as my due." Note, It is bad, and the beginning of worse, when men look upon God's gifts as debts. "Give me the portion, all my child's part, that falls to me;" not, "Try me with a little, and see how I can manage that, and accordingly trust me with more;" but, "Give it me all at present in possession, and I will never expect any thing in reversion, any thing hereafter." Note, The great folly of sinners, and that which ruins them, is being content to have their portion in hand, now in this lifetime to receive their good things. They look only at the things that are seen, that are temporal, and covet only a present gratification, but have no care for a future felicity, when that is spent and gone. And why did he desire to have his portion in his own hands? Was it that he might apply himself to business, and trade with it, and so make it more? No, he had no thought of that. But, [1.] He was weary of his father's government, of the good order and discipline of his father's family, and was fond of liberty falsely so called, but indeed the greatest slavery, for such a liberty to sin is. See the folly of many young men, who are religiously educated, but are impatient of the confinement of their education, and never think themselves their own masters, their own men, till they have broken all God's bands in sunder, and cast away his cords from them, and, instead of them, bound themselves with the cords of their own lust. Here is the original of the apostasy of sinners from God; they will not be tied up to the rules of God's government; they will themselves be as gods, knowing no other good and evil than what themselves please. [2.] He was willing to get from under his father's eye, for that was always a check upon him, and often gave a check to him. A shyness of God, and a willingness to disbelieve his omniscience, are at the bottom of the wickedness of the wicked. [3.] He was distrustful of his father's management. He would have his portion of goods himself, for he thought that his father would be laying up for hereafter for him, and, in order to that, would limit him in his present expenses, and that he did not like. [4.] He was proud of himself, and had a great conceit of his own sufficiency. He thought that if he had but his portion in his own hands he could manage it better than his father did, and make a better figure with it. There are more young people ruined by pride than by any one lust whatsoever. Our first parents ruined themselves and all theirs by a foolish ambition to be independent, and not to be beholden even to God himself; and this is at the bottom of sinners' persisting in their sin - they will be for themselves.
(2.) How kind his father was to him: He divided unto them his living. He computed what he had to dispose of between his sons, and gave the younger son his share, and offered the elder his, which ought to be a double portion; but, it should seem, he desired his father to keep it in his own hands still, and we may see what he got by it (Luk 15:31): All that I have is thine. He got all by staying for something in reserve. He gave the younger son what he asked, and the son had no reason to complain that he did him any wrong in the dividend; he had as much as he expected, and perhaps more. [1.] Thus he might now see his father's kindness, how willing he was to please him and make him easy, and that he was not such an unkind father as he was willing to represent him when he wanted an excuse to be gone. [2.] Thus he would in a little time be made to see his own folly, and that he was not such a wise manager for himself as he would be thought to be. Note, God is a kind Father to all his children, and gives to them all life, and breath, and all things, even to the evil and unthankful, dieilen autois ton bion - He divided to them life. God's giving us life is putting us in a capacity to serve and glorify him.
(3.) How he managed himself when he had got his portion in his own hands. He set himself to spend it as fast as he could, and, as prodigals generally do, in a little time he made himself a beggar: not many days after, Luk 15:13. Note, if God leave us ever so little to ourselves, it will not be long ere we depart from him. When the bridle of restraining grace is taken off we are soon gone. That which the younger son determined was to be gone presently, and, in order to that, he gathered all together. Sinners, that go astray from God, venture their all.
Now the condition of the prodigal in this ramble of his represents to us a sinful state, that miserable state into which man is fallen.
[1.] A sinful state is a state of departure and distance from God. First, It is the sinfulness of sin that it is an apostasy from God. He took his journey from his father's house. Sinners are fled from God; they go a whoring from him; they revolt from their allegiance to him, as a servant that runs from his service, or a wife that treacherously departs from her husband, and they say unto God, Depart. They get as far off him as they can. The world is the far country in which they take up their residence, and are as at home; and in the service and enjoyment of it they spend their all. Secondly. It is the misery of sinners that they are afar off from God, from him who is the Fountain of all good, and are going further and further from him. What is hell itself, but being afar off from God?
[2.] A sinful state is a spending state: There he wasted his substance with riotous living (Luk 15:13), devoured it with harlots (Luk 15:30), and in a little time he had spent all, Luk 15:14. He bought fine clothes, spent a great deal in meat and drink, treated high, associated with those that helped him to make an end of what he had in a little time. As to this world, they that live riotously waste what they have, and will have a great deal to answer for, that they spend that upon their lusts which should be for the necessary substance of themselves and their families. But this is to be applied spiritually. Wilful sinners waste their patrimony; for they misemploy their thoughts and all the powers of their souls, misspend their time and all their opportunities, do not only bury, but embezzle, the talents they are entrusted to trade with for their Master's honour; and the gifts of Providence, which were intended to enable them to serve God and to do good with, are made the food and fuel of their lusts. The soul that is made a drudge, either to the world or to the flesh, wastes its substance, and lives riotously. One sinner destroys much good, Ecc 9:18. The good he destroys is valuable, and it is none of his own; they are his Lord's goods that he wastes, which must be accounted for.
[3.] A sinful state is a wanting state: When he had spent all upon his harlots, they left him, to seek such another prey; and there arose a mighty famine in that land, every thing was scarce and dear, and he began to be in want, Luk 15:14. Note, Wilful waste brings woeful want. Riotous living in time, perhaps in a little time, brings men to a morsel of bread, especially when bad times hasten on the consequences of bad husbandry, which good husbandry would have provided for. This represents the misery of sinners, who have thrown away their own mercies, the favour of God, their interest in Christ, the strivings of the Spirit, and admonitions of conscience; these they gave away for the pleasure of sense, and the wealth of the world, and then are ready to perish for want of them. Sinners want necessaries for their souls; they have neither food nor raiment for them, nor any provision for hereafter. A sinful state is like a land where famine reigns, a mighty famine; for the heaven is as brass (the dews of God's favour and blessing are withheld, and we must needs want good things if God deny them to us), and the earth is as iron (the sinner's heart, that should bring forth good things, is dry and barren, and has no good in it). Sinners are wretchedly and miserably poor, and, what aggravates it, they brought themselves into that condition, and keep themselves in it by refusing the supplies offered.
[4.] A sinful state is a vile servile state. When this young man's riot had brought him to want his want brought him to servitude. He went, and joined himself to a citizen of that country, Luk 15:15. The same wicked life that before was represented by riotous living is here represented by servile living; for sinners are perfect slaves. The devil is the citizen of that country; for he is both in city and country. Sinners join themselves to him, hire themselves into his service, to do his work, to be at his beck, and to depend upon him for maintenance and a portion. They that commit sin are the servants of sin, Joh 8:34. How did this young gentleman debase and disparage himself, when he hired himself into such a service and under such a master as this! He sent him into the fields, not to feed sheep (there had been some credit in that employment; Jacob, and Moses, and David, kept sheep), but to feed swine. The business of the devil's servants is to make provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof, and that is no better than feeding greedy, dirty, noisy swine; and how can rational immortal souls more disgrace themselves?
[5.] A sinful state is a state of perpetual dissatisfaction. When the prodigal began to be in want, he thought to help himself by going to service; and he must be content with the provision which not the house, but the field, afforded; but it is poor provision: He would fain have filled his belly, satisfied his hunger, and nourished his body, with the husks which the swine did eat, Luk 15:16. A fine pass my young master had brought himself to, to be fellow-commoner with the swine! Note, That which sinners, when they depart from God, promise themselves satisfaction in, will certainly disappoint them; they are labouring for that which satisfieth not, Isa 55:2. That which is the stumbling-block of their iniquity will never satisfy their souls, nor fill their bowels, Eze 7:19. Husks are food for swine, but not for men. The wealth of the world and the entertainments of sense will serve for bodies; but what are these to precious souls? They neither suit their nature, nor satisfy their desires, nor supply their needs. He that takes up with them feeds on wind (Hos 12:1), feeds on ashes, Isa 44:20.
[6.] A sinful state is a state which cannot expect relief from any creature. This prodigal, when he could not earn his bread by working, took to begging; but no man gave unto him, because they knew he had brought all this misery upon himself, and because he was rakish, and provoking to every body; such poor are least pitied. This, in the application of the parable, intimates that those who depart from God cannot be helped by any creature. In vain do we cry to the world and the flesh (those gods which we have served); they have that which will poison a soul, but have nothing to give it which will feed and nourish it. If thou refuse God's help, whence shall any creature help thee?
[7.] A sinful state is a state of death: This my son was dead, Luk 15:24, Luk 15:32. A sinner is not only dead in law, as he is under a sentence of death, but dead in state too, dead in trespasses and sins, destitute of spiritual life; no union with Christ, no spiritual senses exercised, no living to God, and therefore dead. The prodigal in the far country was dead to his father and his family, cut off from them, as a member from the body or a branch from the tree, and therefore dead, and it is his own doing.
[8.] A sinful state is a lost state: This my son was lost - lost to every thing that was good - lost to all virtue and honour - lost to his father's house; they had no joy of him. Souls that are separated from God are lost souls; lost as a traveller that is out of his way, and, if infinite mercy prevent not, will soon be lost as a ship that is sunk at sea, lost irrecoverably.
[9.] A sinful state is a state of madness and frenzy. This is intimated in that expression (Luk 15:17), when he came to himself, which intimates that he had been beside himself. Surely he was so when he left his father's house, and much more so when he joined himself to the citizen of that country. Madness is said to be in the heart of sinners, Ecc 9:3. Satan has got possession of the soul; and how raging mad was he that was possessed by Legion! Sinners, like those that are mad, destroy themselves with foolish lusts, and yet at the same time deceive themselves with foolish hopes; and they are, of all diseased persons, most enemies to their own cure.
2. We have here his return from this ramble, his penitent return to his father again. When he was brought to the last extremity, then he bethought himself how much it was his interest to go home. Note, We must not despair of the worst; for while there is life there is hope. The grace of God can soften the hardest heart, and give a happy turn to the strongest stream of corruption. Now observe here,
(1.) What was the occasion of his return and repentance. It was his affliction; when he was in want, then he came to himself. Note, Afflictions, when they are sanctified by divine grace, prove happy means of turning sinners from the error of their ways. By them the ear is opened to discipline and the heart disposed to receive instructions; and they are sensible proofs both of the vanity of the world and of the mischievousness of sin. Apply it spiritually. When we find the insufficiency of creatures to make us happy, and have tried all other ways of relief for our poor souls in vain, then it is time to think of returning to God. When we see what miserable comforters, what physicians of no value, all but Christ are, for a soul that groans under the guilt and power of sin, and no man gives unto us what we need, then surely we shall apply ourselves to Jesus Christ.
(2.) What was the preparative for it; it was consideration. He said within himself, he reasoned with himself, when he recovered his right mind, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough! Note, Consideration is the first step towards conversion, Eze 18:28. He considers, and turns. To consider is to retire into ourselves, to reflect upon ourselves, to compare one thing with another, and determine accordingly. Now observe what it was that he considered.
[1.] He considered how bad his condition was: I perish with hunger. Not only, "I am hungry," but, "I perish with hunger, for I see not what way to expect relief." Note, Sinners will not come to the service of Christ till they are brought to see themselves just ready to perish in the service of sin; and the consideration of that should drive us to Christ. Master, save us, we perish. And though we be thus driven to Christ he will not therefore reject us, nor think himself dishonoured by our being forced to him, but rather honoured by his being applied to in a desperate case.
[2.] He considered how much better it might be made if he would but return: How many hired servants of my father's, the meanest in his family, the very day-labourers, have bread enough, and to spare, such a good house does he keep! Note, First, In our Father's house there is bread for all his family. This was taught by the twelve loaves of showbread, that were constantly upon the holy table in the sanctuary, a loaf for every tribe. Secondly, There is enough and to spare, enough for all, enough for each, enough to spare for such as will join themselves to his domestics, enough and to spare for charity. Yet there is room; there are crumbs that fall from his table, which many would be glad of, and thankful for. Thirdly, Even the hired servants in God's family are well provided for; the meanest that will but hire themselves into his family, to do his work, and depend upon his rewards, shall be well provided for. Fourthly, The consideration of this should encourage sinners, that have gone astray from God, to think of returning to him. Thus the adulteress reasons with herself, when she is disappointed in her new lovers: I will go and return to my first husband, for then was it better with me than now, Hos 2:7.
(3.) What was the purpose of it. Since it is so, that his condition is so bad, and may be bettered by returning to his father, his consideration issues, at length, in this conclusion: I will arise, and go to my father. Note, Good purposes are good things, but still good performances are all in all.
[1.] He determined what to do: I will arise and go to my father. He will not take any longer time to consider of it, but will forthwith arise and go. Though he be in a far country, a great way off from his father's house, yet, far as it is, he will return; every step of backsliding from God must be a step back again in return to him. Though he be joined to a citizen of this country, he makes no difficulty of breaking his bargain with him. We are not debtors to the flesh; we are under no obligation at all to our Egyptian task-masters to give them warning, but are at liberty to quit the service when we will. Observe with what resolution he speaks: "I will arise, and go to my father: I am resolved I will, whatever the issue be, rather than stay here and starve."
[2.] He determined what to say. True repentance is a rising, and coming to God: Behold, we come unto thee. But what words shall we take with us? He here considers what to say. Note, In all our addresses to God, it is good to deliberate with ourselves beforehand what we shall say, that we may order our cause before him, and fill our mouth with arguments. We have liberty of speech, and we ought to consider seriously with ourselves, how we may use that liberty to the utmost, and yet not abuse it. Let us observe what he purposed to say.
First, He would confess his fault and folly: I have sinned. Note, Forasmuch as we have all sinned, it behoves us, and well becomes us, to own that we have sinned. The confession of sin is required and insisted upon, as a necessary condition of peace and pardon. If we plead not guilty, we put ourselves upon a trial by the covenant of innocency, which will certainly condemn us. If guilty, with a contrite, penitent, and obedient heart, we refer ourselves to the covenant of grace, which offers forgiveness to those that confess their sins.
Secondly, He would aggravate it, and would be so far from extenuating the matter that he would lay a load upon himself for it: I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee. Let those that are undutiful to their earthly parents think of this; they sin against heaven, and before God. Offences against them are offences against God. Let us all think of this, as that which renders our sin exceedingly sinful, and should render us exceedingly sorrowful for it. 1. Sin is committed in contempt of God's authority over us: We have sinned against Heaven. God is here called Heaven, to signify how highly he is exalted above us, and the dominion he has over us, for the Heavens do rule. The malignity of sin aims high; it is against Heaven. The daring sinner is said to have set his mouth against the heavens, Psa 63:9. Yet it is impotent malice, for we cannot hurt the heavens. Nay, it is foolish malice; what is shot against the heavens will return upon the head of him that shoots it, Psa 7:16. Sin is an affront to the God of heaven, it is a forfeiture of the glories and joys of heaven, and a contradiction to the designs of the kingdom of heaven. 2. It is committed in contempt of God's eye upon us: "I have sinned against Heaven and yet before thee, and under thine eye," than which there could not be a greater affront put upon him.
Thirdly, He would judge and condemn himself for it, and acknowledge himself to have forfeited all the privileges of the family: I am no more worthy to be called thy son, Luk 15:19. He does not deny the relation (for that was all he had to trust to), but he owns that his father might justly deny the relation, and shut his doors against him. He had, at his own demand, the portion of goods that belonged to him, and had reason to expect no more. Note, It becomes sinners to acknowledge themselves unworthy to receive any favour from God, and to humble and abase themselves before him.
Fourthly, He would nevertheless sue for admission into the family, though it were into the meanest post there: "Make me as one of thy hired servants: that is good enough, and too good for me." Note, True penitents have a high value for God's house, and the privileges of it, and will be glad of any place, so they may but be in it, though it be but as door-keepers, Psa 84:10. If it be imposed on him as a mortification to sit with the servants, he will not only submit to it, but count it a preferment, in comparison with his present state. Those that return to God, from whom they have revolted, cannot but be desirous some way or other to be employed for him, and put into a capacity of serving and honouring him: "Make me as a hired servant, that I may show I love my father's house as much as ever I slighted it."
Fifthly, In all this he would have an eye to his father as a father: "I will arise, and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father." Note, Eyeing God as a Father, and our Father, will be of great use in our repentance and return to him. It will make our sorrow for sin genuine, our resolutions against it strong, and encourage us to hope for pardon. God delights to be called Father both by penitents and petitioners. Is not Ephraim a dear son?
(4.) What was the performance of this purpose: He arose, and came to his father. His good resolve he put in execution without delay; he struck while the iron was hot, and did not adjourn the thought to some more convenient season. Note, It is our interest speedily to close with our convictions. Have we said that we will arise and go? Let us immediately arise and come. He did not come halfway, and then pretend that he was tired and could get no further, but, weak and weary as he was, he made a thorough business of it. If thou wilt return, O Israel, return unto me, and do thy first works.
3. We have here his reception and entertainment with his father: He came to his father; but was he welcome? Yes, heartily welcome. And, by the way, it is an example to parents whose children have been foolish and disobedient, if they repent, and submit themselves, not to be harsh and severe with them, but to be governed in such a case by the wisdom that is from above, which is gentle and easy to be entreated; herein let them be followers of God, and merciful, as he is. But it is chiefly designed to set forth the grace and mercy of God to poor sinners that repent and return to him, and his readiness to forgive them. Now here observe,
(1.) The great love and affection wherewith the father received the son: When he was yet a great way off his father saw him, Luk 15:20. He expressed his kindness before the son expressed his repentance; for God prevents us with the blessings of his goodness. Even before we call he answers; for he knows what is in our hearts. I said, I will confess, and thou forgavest. How lively are the images presented here! [1.] Here were eyes of mercy, and those eyes quick-sighted: When he was yet a great way off his father saw him, before any other of the family were aware of him, as if from the top of some high tower he had been looking that way which his son was gone, with such a thought as this, "O that I could see yonder wretched son of mine coming home!" This intimates God's desire of the conversion of sinners, and his readiness to meet them that are coming towards him. He looketh on men, when they are gone astray from him, to see whether they will return to him, and he is aware of the first inclination towards him. [2.] Here were bowels of mercy, and those bowels turning within him, and yearning at the sight of his son: He had compassion. Misery is the object of pity, even the misery of a sinner; though he has brought it upon himself, yet God compassionates. His soul was grieved for the misery of Israel, Hos 11:8; Jdg 10:16. [3.] Here were feet of mercy, and those feet quick-paced: He ran. This denotes how swift God is to show mercy. The prodigal son came slowly, under a burden of shame and fear; but the tender father ran to meet him with his encouragements. [4.] Here were arms of mercy, and those arms stretched out to embrace him: He fell on his neck. Though guilty and deserving to be beaten, though dirty and newly come from feeding swine, so that any one who had not the strongest and tenderest compassions of a father would have loathed to touch him, yet he thus takes him in his arms, and lays him in his bosom. Thus dear are true penitents to God, thus welcome to the Lord Jesus. [5.] Here were lips of mercy, and those lips dropping as a honey-comb: He kissed him. This kiss not only assured him of his welcome, but sealed his pardon; his former follies shall be all forgiven, and not mentioned against him, nor is one word said by way of upbraiding. This was like David's kissing Absalom, Sa2 14:33. And this intimates how ready, and free, and forward the Lord Jesus is to receive and entertain poor returning repenting sinners, according to his Father's will.
(2.) The penitent submission which the poor prodigal made to his father (Luk 15:21): He said unto him, Father, I have sinned. As it commends the good father's kindness that he showed it before the prodigal expressed his repentance, so it commends the prodigal's repentance that he expressed it after his father had shown him so much kindness. When he had received the kiss which sealed his pardon, yet he said, Father, I have sinned. Note, Even those that have received the pardon of their sins, and the comfortable sense of their pardon, must have in their hearts a sincere contrition for it, and with their mouths must make a penitent confession of it, even of those sins which they have reason to hope are pardoned. David penned the fifty-first psalm after Nathan had said, The Lord has taken away thy sin, thou shall not die. Nay, the comfortable sense of the pardon of sin should increase our sorrow for it; and that is ingenuous evangelical sorrow which is increased by such a consideration. See Eze 16:63, Thou shalt be ashamed and confounded, when I am pacified towards thee. The more we see of God's readiness to forgive us, the more difficult it should be to us to forgive ourselves.
(3.) The splendid provision which this kind father made for the returning prodigal. He was going on in his submission, but one word we find in his purpose to say (Luk 15:19) which we do not find that he did say (Luk 15:21), and that was, Make me as one of thy hired servants. We cannot think that he forgot it, much less that he changed his mind, and was now either less desirous to be in the family or less willing to be a hired servant there than when he made that purpose; but his father interrupted him, prevented his saying it: "Hold, son, talk no more of thy unworthiness, thou art heartily welcome, and, though not worthy to be called a son, shalt be treated as a dear son, as a pleasant child." He who is thus entertained at first needs not ask to be made as a hired servant. Thus when Ephraim bemoaned himself God comforted him, Jer 31:18-20. It is strange that here is not one word of rebuke: "Why did you not stay with your harlots and your swine? You could never find the way home till beaten hither with your own rod." No, here is nothing like this; which intimates that, when God forgives the sins of true penitents, he forgets them, he remembers them no more, they shall not be mentioned against them, Eze 18:22. But this is not all; here is rich and royal provision made for him, according to his birth and quality, far beyond what he did or could expect. He would have thought it sufficient, and been very thankful, if his father had but taken notice of him, and bid him go to the kitchen, and get his dinner with his servants; but God does for those who return to their duty, and cast themselves upon his mercy, abundantly above what they are able to ask or think. The prodigal came home between hope and fear, fear of being rejected and hope of being received; but his father was not only better to him than his fears, but better to him than his hopes - not only received him, but received him with respect.
[1.] He came home in rags, and his father not only clothed him, but adorned him. He said to the servants, who all attended their master, upon notice that his son was come, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him. The worst old clothes in the house might have served, and these had been good enough for him; but the father calls not for a coat, but for a robe, the garment of princes and great men, the best robe - tēn stolēn tēn prōtēn. There is a double emphasis: "that robe, that principal robe, you know which I mean;" the first robe (so it may be read); the robe he wore before he ran his ramble. When backsliders repent and do their first works, they shall be received and dressed in their first robes. "Bring hither that robe, and put it on him; he will be ashamed to wear it, and think that it ill becomes him who comes home in such a dirty pickle, but put it on him, and do not merely offer it to him: and put a ring on his hand, a signet-ring, with the arms of the family, in token of his being owned as a branch of the family." Rich people wore rings, and his father hereby signified that though he had spent one portion, yet, upon his repentance, he intended him another. He came home barefoot, his feet perhaps sore with travel, and therefore, "Put shoes on his feet, to make him easy." Thus does the grace of God provide for true penitents. First, The righteousness of Christ is the robe, that principal robe, with which they a
Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible (1708–1710) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.
John Gill 1763 · Public Domain And he said,.... The Syriac and Persic versions read…
And he said,.... The Syriac and Persic versions read "and Jesus said again"; he added another parable to the two former, at the same time, of the same import, with the same view, and on the same occasion; setting forth the different characters of the Scribes and Pharisees, and of the publicans and sinners; and what little reason the one had to murmur, at his conversation with the other:
a certain man had two sons; by "the certain man" is meant, God the Father: God indeed is not a man, nor is he to be represented by any human image; but inasmuch as man is the image of God, God is sometimes compared to man, and is called a man of war, an husbandman, &c. which no ways contradict his being a spirit; and true it is, that the second person only assumed human nature; and therefore, whenever a divine person is spoken of as man, Christ is commonly intended: but though the Father never appeared in an human form, yet he seems here to be designed; because the character of a Father, and having sons, more properly belong to him; and the reception of sinners, and the forgiveness of them for Christ's sake, agree with him: and besides, Christ is distinguished from the Father in this parable; and he and his blessings of grace, are signified by other things: by the "two sons" are meant, not angels and men, as that angels are the elder, and men the younger son; for though angels are called the sons of God, and may be said to be elder than men, with respect to creation; and good angels may be said to have been ever with God, and always serving him, and never sinned against him; yet they are never called the brethren of men, nor men their brethren; and besides, are never angry at the return and reception of repenting sinners; for this would be to represent them just the reverse of what they are said to be, in the preceding verse: nor are the Jews and Gentiles here intended, which is the more received and general sense of the parable: those who go this way, suppose the Jews to be the elder brother; and indeed they were so, with respect to external privileges; and were with God, being his household and family; all he had were theirs, that was external; and the character of the elder brother throughout the parable, agrees with the far greater part of that nation; and it is certain, that they did resent the calling of the Gentiles: and these suppose the Gentiles to be the younger brother, who indeed were brought into a church state, later than the Jews; and might be said to be afar off in a far country, and to have spent their substance in idolatry and wickedness; to have been in the utmost distress, and in the most deplorable condition: but to this sense it may be objected, that the Gospel was not as yet preached to the Gentiles; nor were they brought to repentance; nor were they openly received into the divine favour; nor as yet had the Jews murmured at, and resented the kindness of God to them: rather standing and fallen professors may be designed: since the former are very apt to carry it toward the latter, in like manner as the elder brother is represented in this parable, as carrying himself towards the younger: but the true sense, and which the context and occasion of the parable at once determine, is, that by the elder son are meant, the Scribes and Pharisees, and self-righteous persons, among the Jews; and by the younger, the publicans and sinners among the same people; as it is easy to observe, the same are meant by the two sons in the parable in Mat 21:28. Now these are called the sons of God because the Jews in general were so by national adoption; and the self-righteous Pharisees looked upon themselves as the children of God, and favourites of heaven, in a special sense; and God's elect among them, even those that lay among publicans and sinners, were truly so; and that before conversion; for they were not only predestinated to the adoption of children, but were really taken into the relation of children, in the covenant of grace; and as such were given to Christ, and considered by him, when he assumed their nature, and died for them; and are so antecedent to the spirit of adoption, who is sent to witness their sonship to them; and which is consistent with their being children of wrath, as the descendants of Adam, and their being the children of God openly and manifestatively, by faith in Christ Jesus.
John Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible (1746–1763) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.
Joseph Benson 1811 · Public Domain Luk 15:11-12. And he said, &c. — Christ delivered…
Luk 15:11-12. And he said, &c. — Christ delivered next the parable of the lost or prodigal son: “which of all his parables,” says Dr. Macknight, “is the most delightful, not only as it enforces a doctrine incomparably joyous, but because it abounds with the tender passions, is finely painted with the most beautiful images, and is to the mind what a charming and diversified landscape is to the eye.” In this parable our Lord pursues the same design as in the two preceding ones: namely, that of vindicating himself in conversing with publicans and sinners, of reproving the envy of the Pharisees, and of encouraging every sincere penitent, by moving representations of the divine mercy. A certain man had two sons — Now grown up to manhood; and the younger of them — Fondly conceited of his own capacity to manage his affairs, and impatient of the restraint he lay under in his father’s house; said to his father, Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me — As I am now come to years of discretion, I desire thou wouldst give into mine own hands that portion of thine estate, which, according to an equitable distribution, falls to my share. See here, reader, the root of all sin, a desire of disposing of ourselves independently of God! And he divided unto them his living — Gave them his chief stock of money, reserving the house and estate in his own hands. “It is plain no significant sense can be put on this circumstance of the parable, as referring to the dispensations of God to his creatures. It is one of those many ornamental circumstances which it would be weakness over-rigorously to accommodate to the general design.” — Doddridge.
Joseph Benson's Commentary on the Old and New Testaments (1811–1818) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Albert Barnes 1834 · Public Domain And he said - Jesus, to illustrate still farther…
And he said - Jesus, to illustrate still farther the sentiment which he had uttered, and to show that it was proper to rejoice over repenting sinners, proceeds to show it by a most beautiful and instructive parable. We shall see its beauty and propriety by remembering that the “design” of it was simply to “justify his conduct in receiving sinners,” and to show that to rejoice over their return was proper. This he shows by the feelings of a “father” rejoicing over the “return” of an ungrateful and dissipated son.
Albert Barnes' Notes on the Bible (1834–1885) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.
Haydock's Catholic Bible Commentary 1859 · Public Domain A certain man had two sons. By the elder…
A certain man had two sons. By the elder son is commonly expounded the Jewish people, who for a long time had been chosen to serve God; and by the younger son, the Gentiles, who for so many ages had run blindly on in their idolatry and vices. (Witham) --- Some understand this of the Jews and Gentiles, others of the just and sinners. The former opinion seems preferable. The elder son, brought up in his father’s house, &c. represents the Jews; the younger prodigal is a figure of the Gentiles. (Calmet)
George Leo Haydock (1774–1849), Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary, 1859 edition — public domain. Excludes Psalms (Douay-Rheims chapter numbering differs from Protestant) and Deuterocanonical books (Catholic canon only).
Lange's Commentary on the Holy Scriptures 1864 · Public Domain 3. The Prodigal Son (Luk_15:11-32)
3. The Prodigal Son (Luk_15:11-32)
11And he said, A certain man had two sons: 12And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. 13And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. 14And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. 15And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. 16And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks 17[pods] that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him [therefrom]. And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish [am perishing here2] with hunger! 18I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before 19thee, And [for “And” read “I”3] am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. 20And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had [or, was moved with] compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. 21And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and Amos 4 no more worthy to be called thy son. 22But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe [a robe, the best5], and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: 23And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: 24For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.
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25Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. 26And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. 27And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. 28And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore [and] came his father out, and entreated him. 29And he answering said to his6 father, Lo, these many years do I serve [so many years have I served] thee, neither transgressed I [have I transgressed] at any time thy commandment; and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: 30But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. 31And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever 32with me, and all that I have is thine. It [But it] was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.
EXEGETICAL AND CRITICAL
Luk_15:11. A certain man.—The simple, unpretentious beginning of the most beautiful of all the parables, is even in and of itself a beauty. The man is here the image of God; the Son anthropomorphizes the Father in a very unique manner. The two sons denote not exactly the Jews and the Heathen, (Augustine, Bede, and the Tübingen school), nor yet angels and men (Herberger), but the mass of men, as divided at this moment before the Saviour, into Publicans and Pharisees. Strictly speaking, both the sons here sketched are lost,—the one through the unrighteousness that degrades him, the other through the self-righteousness which blinds him.
Luk_15:12. The younger.—The most light-minded, and as such the most easily led astray. The goods which come to him only after the death of the father, he wishes to possess already in his father’s lifetime, in order to be entirely free and his own master.—Τὸ ἐπιβάλλον μέρος, somewhat singular, but yet a genuinely Greek expression (see Grotius), to indicate what he of right can demand as his property out of his father’s possessions.—And he divided unto them, αὐτυῖς.—Therefore not only to the younger, but also to the elder, with the distinction however that the younger now received in hand his own portion, while the elder could regard his as his property, although the father yet administered it, and he still remained as the child in his father’s house.
Luk_15:13. Gathered together.—It very soon appears what the youngest one really meant to do. The false craving for freedom, which the father does not suppress by violence, drives him to seek his fortune abroad. All that he has received he gathers together, partly, probably, in natura (De Wette), and journeys as far as possible away. The far-distant land, an image of the sinner’s deep apostasy from God. The beauty of the parable is heightened still more by this fact, that with forbearing tenderness, the depth of his degradation is not depicted in many strokes, but afterwards, Luk_15:30, is for the first time learned somewhat more in detail from the mouth of the elder son. His mode of life is plainly enough characterized, as ἀσώτως, a word which is found only here, but which is sufficiently explained by the use of the substantive, Eph_5:18; Tit_1:6; 1Pe_4:4. Then does the inward separation from the father become quite as great as the outward was. “Qui se a Christo separat, exul est patriœ, civis est mundi.” Ambrosius.
Luk_15:14. And when … a mighty famine.—The natural consequences of such a mode of life are only hastened by the famine that arises (ἰσχυρὰ λιμός, here feminine according to the Doric dialect and the latter usage; Luk_4:25, it still appears as masculine, and the reading of the Recepta, ἰσχυρός, is only an emendation, according to the customary usage). The external want which he now begins to suffer, becomes a transition to the turning-point of his inner life. But he does not yet come to this turning-point without a last desperate endeavor to remedy his own distress from his own means.
Luk_15:15. Joined himself, ἐκολλήθη, attached himself, as it were, to him by force, that he might assist him in his necessity. He has therefore remained a stranger in the land in which he has consumed all. “Quem reditus ad frugem manet, is sœpe etiam in medio errore suo quiddam a propriis mundi civibus distinctum retinet.” Bengel. But the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. The citizen of the strange land sends him (ἔπεμψεν, change of the subject of discourse) to his fields, (ἀγρούς in the plural), in order there to keep swine, where he should by no means lack the necessary sustenance: perhaps an intentional insult which the rich heathen put upon the suffering, necessitous Jew, but certainly a striking image of the inconceivable wretchedness into which sin drags man down. And yet this very deep leads up to the height, and among the χοίροις it will soon fare better with the unhappy man than with the πόρναις.
Luk_15:16. Have filled his belly.—An uncomely expression in itself, but entirely agreeable to the uncomeliness of the fact, and so far an additional beauty of the parable. Somewhat of (ἀπό) the swine’s fodder is now his highest desire, without however his being able even to obtain a part of that.—With the pods, κεράτια, a wild fruit, found in Syria and Egypt, which was used for swine’s fodder. Perhaps the sweetish fruit of the Caratonia siliqua (Linnæus), which, on account of the great abundance of them, was of the least possible value, and although they tasted sweet were not wholesome. “The hull of the marrowy pod, one foot in length (κεράτια), was thrown to the swine; but the kernel (Gerah, grain) passed for the smallest weight among the Hebrews.”—And no one gave unto him (therefrom).—“Either because the feeding of the swine was committed to others than him that pastured them, or because he saw the access to the swine-trough closed to him; perhaps because the steward under whom he served was avaricious and malicious.” De Wette. At all events, the only thing that could have reconciled him to his degrading employment, the satisfaction of his raging hunger, he saw still withheld from him in this way.
Luk_15:17. And when he came to himself.—An admirable expression for the inward change in the heart of the man who had been hitherto beside himself, but now awakes from the dream. Εἰς ἑαυτὸν δὲ ἐλθών, Luther: da schlug er in sich. The sinner must first return unto himself, if he will be truly converted to God. He first compares his external condition with that of the more highly privileged. The μίσθιοι have bread, and indeed περισσεύουσιν ἄρτων. He, the son of the family, has not even κεράτια. By the μίσθιοι, we have to understand laborers that are engaged from day to day. Among the παῖδες. Luk_15:26, we have to understand the meanest of the permanent domestic servants, who stand without, without taking part in the feast; among the δοῦλοι, Luk_15:22, on the other hand, servants of higher rank, overseers of farms, vineyards, and the like, who personally took part in the joy of the feast. It appears therefore, that the Prodigal Son actually envies the good fortune of those who stood on the last step. Now, when the pride of his heart is broken, no false shame holds him longer back from considering his condition in its true light.
Luk_15:18. I will arise.—Not precisely the primordia pœnitentiæ (Bengel), for these are already indicated in the εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἐλθών, but the transition from the inward to the now also outward change. In this especially is shown the sincerity of his repentance, that it is joined with the not yet extinguished trust in the love of his father, that he seeks not a single excuse, and without delay arises to carry out the resolution taken.—Against heaven and before thee; ἐνώπιον σοῦ, that is, “in relation to thee.” Since however this relation is ordained by heaven (general indication of the dwelling-place of the higher spiritual world), he feels at the same time how this holy, heavenly world is injured by the fact, that he on earth has infringed in such a way upon the inalienable rights of his father. It is ever a token of the sincerity of repentance, when one views even the sins committed against others, as transgressions against the Heavenly Father.—Make me as one.—He wishes not only tractari tanquam mercenarius, but to be accounted on a level with such in every respect; on ὡς an emphasis is to be laid. He wishes that there may be no distinction between him and the least of the day-laborers, and promises thereby that he will diligently serve, and be obedient as a day-laborer. That he however hopes in this way once more to deserve the name of a son, he does not say a word of, and it is therefore perhaps much too refined (Stier) to remark in this entreaty a trace of self-righteousness. He wishes simply to be released at any price from his wretched condition, and with deeds to prove the sincerity of his confession of sin.
Luk_15:20. But when … his father saw him.—The father is represented as daily expecting the return of the strayed one, with longing desire; he is moved with compassion for the unfortunate one, at the view of the wretched garment, and the pitiable condition in which he sees him coming at a distance. The kiss which he impresses on his lips, comp. Gen_33:4; Mat_26:48, is the token of the prevenient love which is shown even before the confession of sin, which the father reads in the heart of the returned son, has had time to pass over his lips. The conclusion of the previously meditated address: “Make me,” &c., is in fact kept back “by the demeanor of fatherly love; the agitated son cannot bring these words out in view of such paternal love; a psychologically tender and delicate representation.” Meyer.
Luk_15:22. But the father.—Ταχέως may certainly be added in though, even though it should not be inserted in the text.—See notes on the Greek text.—The father assures the son of his forgiveness, not by replying to his address, but by giving in his presence a definite command to the servants standing by. First, there must a garment, and that the best (see notes on the text), be brought out; the father cannot look on these hateful beggar’s rags. Thus is he again brought into his former position of honor; for the Talar was the long and white upper garment of the principal Jews, see Mar_12:38. The seal-ring and the shoes are to show that he was recognized as a free man (slaves went commonly barefoot). The (τό) fatted calf, which stands in the stall already prepared for slaughter, can be destined for no more joyful occasion than this. Without delay must all the members of the family assemble at the feast-table, and it is as if now the inventiveness of love exhausted itself to prove to the returned wanderer how welcome he is to the happy father’s heart. The ground for all this is indicated in the assurance: For this my son, &c. Death and life is in the usage of the Scripture the designation of sin and conversion, see Eph_2:1; 1Ti_5:6, and other passages. The father means not only that the son has been dead for him (Paulus, De Wette), but that he in himself has risen in a moral respect from the condition of death to a new and higher life. What he has been and now is in the view of the father—once lost, now found,—is expressed in the second antithesis. The parallelism of the expression is therefore not to be taken tautologically.
Luk_15:24. And they began to be merry.—Of course at the feast, although, in itself, εὐφραίνεσθαι is not to be taken in the sense of epulari (Kuinoel). The parable has here reached the point which is designated in the first parable in Luk_15:7, and in the second in Luk_15:10; for the joy in the father’s house corresponds perfectly to that in heaven and before the angels of God. Not impossible is it, however, that it was especially this third intimation of the same chief thought, which awakened a visible displeasure among the Pharisaic hearers, and that the Saviour therefore felt impelled so much the more to set forth yet more in detail, in the person of the second son, an intimation already given, Luk_15:7, by portraying his unloving selfishness. Here also we owe to human opposition and malice one of the most beautiful pages of the Gospel.
Luk_15:25. His elder son.—The less the Pharisees could recognize in the description of the younger son their own image, so much the more must their conscience hold up before them a mirror in the image of the eldest son. Even at the very beginning, the vividness and beauty of the representation is heightened by the fact, that the eldest son at the return of the youngest brother is not in the house, but has spent the day in hard, self-chosen, slavish service, and now first returns home at even-time, when the feast was already in progress.—Music and dancing.—Without the article. As to the customariness of this at the feasts of the ancients, comp. Mat_14:6. Even this fact, that such a thing had taken place in the dwelling entirely without his knowledge, secretly angers him, and with an astonishment which betrays displeasure, he calls one of the servants to him.
Luk_15:27. Thy brother is come.—Entirely without reason have some found (Berl. Bibl.) in the answer of the servant something secretly malicious. He gives to the returned son, after the example of his master, the rank befitting him & he does not relate in what condition the brother had come home, but only that he had returned in good health.—The slave speaks of ὐγιαίνειν undoubtedly in the physical sense, as the father had before spoken of death and life in the moral sense; and at the same time mentions the fatted calf, which he had perhaps slaughtered with his own hand, and which was for him, as a servant, very likely the chief matter. In so good-natured an answer there lies nothing at all, in and of itself, which could have given the elder brother just ground for bitterness. It is rather the state of the case itself that is sufficient (in his temper of mind) to fill him with anger. This last stroke of the pencil also proves satisfactorily the unreasonableness of the singular interpretation, that by the elder brother we are to understand unfallen angels.
Luk_15:28. His father … entreated him, παρεκάλει. Luther: Begged him. Kuinoel: Called him to him. Meyer: Summoned him to come in. Only the last is somewhat too strong, since then the refusal of the son would have been, in contradiction to his own declaration, Luk_15:29, a direct disobedience. We prefer explaining it in the sense that the father with soft words sought to move him to judge otherwise, and then also to act otherwise, comp. Act_16:39. So much the more strikingly does the not-to-be wearied and long-suffering love of the father, who for his sake even leaves for a moment the feast of joy, contrast with the refractory and selfish disposition of the elder son.
Luk_15:29. These many years.—He addresses the father, yet the youngest son’s tender πάτερ does not pass his lips. On the other hand, he brings up to him his external obedience and service for reward, with as little modesty as possible. Reward for it he has, according to his own opinion, never yet received, and indeed has not yet enjoyed the only true reward in his heart. It is noticeable (see the notes on the text) that his highest wish appears to have concentrated itself in a kid, ἐρίφιον. (the he-goat, the image of lewdness) [There is not the slightest reason to suppose that any such reference is implied in ἐρίφιον.—C. C. S.], while he looks down with contempt upon the immoral conduct of his brother. Ὁ υΐός σου οὗτος. He visibly avoids giving him the brother’s name, which, however, the father does, Luk_15:32, but he tears the veil which was spread over his sinful life. For him the paternal love also concentrates itself in the fatted calf, that had far higher value than the vainly wished for ἐρίφιον.
Luk_15:31. Son, thou art.—Although self-righteousness has already condemned itself by its own words, it is now even to redundance rebuked by the mild answer of the father. With an affectionate τέκνον, he seeks once again to bring him to a kinder disposition, and show him that his uninterrupted dwelling with his father and his prospect of the whole paternal inheritance, Luk_15:12, should have raised him above so unloving a judgment. An entirely different disposition was now the natural one, and required by the course of events. To make merry and be glad was what one must now do, instead of bringing bitter imputations. The father does not say definitely that the eldest son also should now do this. The σέ is now omitted; but he speaks in general of the ethical necessity that it now must be just thus, and not otherwise. In no event, therefore, will the feast of joy be for his sake interrupted, but he himself must judge whether he, after the explanation received, will yet longer stand without in displeasure. The father has the last word, and it is as if the Saviour asked therewith His Pharisaical listeners: Decide yourselves how the parable shall end; will you still refuse to take part in the joy of heaven over the conversion of sinners?
In relation to the parable as a whole, we must remark, in addition, that it belongs perfectly in the Pauline Gospel of Luke. “The Pauline representation of the incapacity of the νόμος to confer the true δικαιοσύνη, and of the necessity of another way of salvation through the πίστις and χάρις, constitutes the best commentary on these parables.” Olshausen. But in a pitiable way has the Paulinistic and liberal character of this teaching of the Saviour been misused by the Tübingen school, to the support of their understanding of original Christianity, and of the peculiarity of the third Gospel. Ritzschl (formerly), Zeller, Schwegler, nor least, Von Baur, have, with different modifications, insisted on finding here a symbolical representation of the distinct relation in which Jews and Gentiles stood to the Messianic kingdom. The Prodigal Son then represents heathenism in its degeneracy, return, and restoration; the eldest son, on the other hand, represents the proud and hostile disposition of the Jewish Christians against these later-called and highly privileged. “Who does not here see the behavior of the Jewish Christians towards the Gentile Christians and the Pauline Christianity which we know from the Epistle to the Romans?” It is impossible to read this whole construction of the oldest church history without doing justice to the extra ordinary talent and the brilliant gift of combination of which it is the undeniable fruit. But even the noblest building must fall in ruin when it lacks the firm foundation. The latter is here the case, and it has, therefore, been justly remarked that Hilgenfeld and others confound the applicability of the parable to their darling theme, with its original occasion and intention. That a noticeable agreement exists between the Jewish Christians and the eldest son, between the Gentile Christians and the youngest, is plain, and should be willingly conceded; but that the Saviour’s design was to direct attention to this is in direct conflict with Luk_15:1-2; Luk_15:7; Luk_15:10. With the same right we might be able to find the antitype of the two sons, in the Catholic and in the Evangelical Church in their mutual relations. As to the rest, we already find a trace of the Tübingen idea in Vitringa and others.
DOCTRINAL AND ETHICAL
1. There is no parable of the Saviour whose beauty and high value has been so generally and openly acknowledged as that of the Prodigal Son. Nothing would be easier than to collect a Chrestomathy of enthusiastic eulogies on this parable, even from rationalists and unbelievers. “In the style of Lavater, whoever loves this style might speak long and much; might exclaim and wonder: How simple and how deep, how unforgettably retainable in its words, unfathomable and inexhaustible in its sense; related with what dramatic life, this parable of the Saviour, the crown and pearl of all His parables, is!” Stier. But mindful that the Divine, least of anything, needs our human praise, we will rather direct the eye to that which is here portrayed, and to the somewhat more particular consideration of the great antithesis of Sin and Grace, which appears in this so popular and yet so profound instruction.
2. Sin appears here before us not only in one but in a twofold form, as it develops itself not only in the widely wandering but also in the self-righteous man, who remains outwardly within the limits of obedience required by God. Against every theory which explains sin from the metaphysical imperfection of human nature, or interprets the fall as a kind of moral progress (Schiller), this parable utters the sentence of condemnation.
3. The essence of sin presents itself to us in the younger son as Self-seeking. This awakens in him discontent with the good that he enjoys in the house of his father, impels him to seek independent freedom, sensual enjoyment and honor, and makes him a wretched slave of his unfettered, passions. From the root of self-seeking grow two different branches, the sins of sensuality on the one hand and those of pride on the other. The former we see coming to mournful development principally in the younger, the latter in the elder, son. Sensuality degrades man, blinds him and leads him finally to the brink of the abyss, but God is far from abridging the sinner’s use of his freedom; He permits him, on the other hand, to walk his own ways, and makes even the bitter fruits of evil serviceable to his healing and recovery. Through false craving for freedom the Prodigal Son falls into unhappy wandering; through wandering into wretched slavery; through slavery into an unspeakable depth of misery.
4. Quite otherwise does moral corruption reveal itself in the elder son. Outwardly he remains in the house of his father and serves him, yet he is guided only by a mechanical obedience, to which the impelling power of love is wanting. He seeks his reward not in his father’s recognition, but in the kid for which he longs and for which he vainly hopes. He vaunts in his vain pride of his fancied fulfilment of duty, although to this there was lacking the heart, and with this everything, and betrays his inner character by his anger at the gracious reception of his deeply-fallen brother. He believes himself, in his blindness, never to have transgressed a commandment, and yet forgets precisely that which is weightiest in the law, mercy and love. Neither his father nor his brother does he love, and yet believes that he may demand all for himself. How self-righteousness stands related to God and mankind is here drawn from life. On the other side, the Saviour shows also how God demeans Himself towards such fools and blind. He endures them in His long-suffering; He addresses them kindly; He excludes them not at once from the enjoyment of His fatherly favor, but yet lets them feel that they are on the way to exclude themselves therefrom, and that if they persist in their error, the joy of heaven over the conversion of the lost sinner can, on their account, be by no means disturbed or postponed.
5. The nature of the conversion of which no one repents, is in the image of the younger son sketched for all following ages. Its beginning is to be found where the sinner comes to himself, and becomes acquainted, not only with his deep wretchedness, but, above all, with his inexcusable guilt. The consciousness of guilt is, according to this parable, by no means a subjective illusion of the sinner, but the expression of an everlasting truth of the voice of God which is heard in the conscience, and which the father in no wise contradicts, which he, on the other hand, answers with the overwhelming revelation of his forgiving love. The knowledge of the nature of sin—that it is not a weakness but an infinite debt—brings about an inward sorrow, 2Co_7:10; this sorrow impels to the confession of sin; this confession is joined with longing after immediate return. It is precisely in this that the nature of true repentance is here revealed; that it joins the deepest humility with not yet extinguished faith in the love of the Father; that the good resolution, how much soever it may cost, is without delay put into execution, and that the son will rather, if it is possible, take the last place in the house of his Father than even for a moment longer look around for a better lot outside of the Father’s house. With undoubted justice, it is true, the remark could be made that in this parable it is especially “human activity in the work of conversion that is portrayed.” (Olshausen.) However, it is also true, on the other side, that “the Divine activity also is not lacking in this parable.” Lange.
6. The grace of God for the Prodigal Son comes in this parable in its compassionate and all-restoring side before our eyes. The father does not this time seek for the lost son as the shepherd had sought for the sheep and the woman for the coin. For neither is it here an irrational being but a rational man, who must be brought himself to choose the way of conversion. Mediately the father has labored for his delivery, for while he has permitted him to bear all the consequences of the evil committed, he has, moreover, patiently waited and kept his house and heart open to him. Scarcely does the son take the first step homeward, when the father regards him with compassionate look, goes kindly towards him (prevenient grace), and refuses not, it is true, the confession of sin, but remits to him whatever it has of pain and humiliation. Ha not only testifies his joy over the returned wanderer, but he gives it active expression, and not only pardons the wanderer, but restores him again to the full possession and enjoyment of his forfeited filial rights. It is not, however, necessary to see in every feature of the parable, on this point, the intimation of a definite saving truth of the Gospel. Whoever (Olshausen) finds signified in the ring the seal of the Holy Spirit; in the sandals, the being shod as in Eph_6:15; in the Talar, the garment of the perfect righteousness of Christ, easily loses out of mind the distinction between parable and allegory—a point of view where nothing could reasonably withhold us from going a step farther, and, with Jerome, Augustine, and Melanchthon, seeing in the fatted calf the image of Christ. For other examples of arbitrary interpretation, see Lisco, ad loc. Here also we are carefully to distinguish between the practical applicability and the historical intention of the parable.
7. It is well known what consequences have been drawn from the fact that in this parable the Prodigal Son is received by the father without the intervention of any mediator. “All dogmatical imaginations of the supralapsarians and infralapsarians, nay, even of the demanders of bloody satisfaction, who have no sense of the heaven-wide distinction between Divine and human righteousness, vanish like oppressive nightmares before this single parable, in which Jesus reveals the heavenly secret of human redemption, not according to a mystical or criminal theory of punishment, but anthropologically, psychologically, and theologically to every pure eye that looks into the law of perfect liberty.” Von Ammon, L. J., iii. p. 50. But, with the same right, one from this parable might have been able to deduce a proof against the biblical Satanology, since, forsooth, the young man is allured and misled by sin alone; or against the doctrine of sanctification, since the parable adds nothing concerning the new life of the grateful son in his father’s house. Quod nimium, nihil probat. Silence is not necessarily contradiction, and it is entirely natural that the Saviour, months before His atoning death, before an audience of Pharisees and publicans, should have left this wholly a mystery. It is well known how little He, especially according to the Synoptical Gospels, spoke of the highest goal of His suffering and death even to His familiar disciples; it belonged to the things which He described, Joh_16:12, concerning which the Paraclete should afterwards instruct His church. Whoever uses this parable as a weapon against the Pauline doctrine of atonement, acts as foolishly as he who, pointing to the friendly morning light, would prove thereby the uselessness of the full mid-day sun. The demand that the Saviour must in a single parable have described the whole way of salvation, is excessively arbitrary; nor does the Gospel teach anywhere that the Father had to be, by the death of His Son, first moved to be gracious to sinners. “One parable cannot exhaust the whole truth; but in the parable of the Prodigal Son we may say that the Saviour and Mediator is concealed in the kiss which the father gives the son.” Riggenbach.
If we now, in conclusion, direct once again our view to this triad of parables, we find a rich variety, and yet an admirable agreement. The first parable depicts to us the sinner in his pitiable folly: the sheep exchanges voluntarily the green meadow for the barren waste. The second portrays to us the sinner in his wretched self-degradation: the coin falls down upon the earth, and lies, although the stamp is not erased, yet buried under the dust, from which it comes, only after much seeking and sweeping, again to the light of day. The third teaches us to know the sinner especially in his unthankfulness: the free love of the father is requited by the Prodigal Son with the squandering of his inheritance;—the sheep in the wilderness, the coin in the dust, the son at the swine-trough, all show us the image of the sinner’s deep wretchedness. But since that which is lost is a man only in the third parable, it is implied in the nature of the case that only here can a wandering soul’s conversion be placed before us in different gradations and transitions. The Divine love of sinners, on the other hand, is vividly portrayed to us in all three parables, although each time under a somewhat different character. In all it is God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (who, even in the Old Testament, is compared with a Shepherd and a Woman, Eze_34:28; Psalms 23; Isa_40:11), from whom the revelation of this love proceeds. But the shepherd is yet especially the image of seeking love, the woman that of restlessly laboring and careful love, while in the father this love comes before us as a prevenient, compassionate, and all-restoring love. In the representation of the value of what is lost there is an unmistakable climax: first one of a hundred, then one of ten, finally one of two: first a beast, then a coin, finally a man. [But the coin, according to the author’s own showing, is worth much less than a sheep. In the relative proportion of each to the wealth of the possessor, however, there is undoubtedly a climax.—C. C. S.] Even so there is found a beautiful harmony in the representation of the persons who rejoice with the finder: the neighbors who rejoice with the shepherd, the female friends who rejoice with the woman, the servants of the house who rejoice with the father, are necessary figures of the picture, and all represent the angels who take part in the joy of God in the conversion of even one that is lost. In the first and second parable all that the Divine love adventures and effects in order to find the lost is represented as on its own plane entirely natural. But on the other hand again the benignity, the beneficence, the sublimity of the Divine love to sinners strike the eye most strongly in the third, as it is here a man, whom love can adorn with robe and ring and sandals: features which in the two other parables could find no place. While, finally, coin and sheep are only passive towards the grace that seeks and recovers them, in the image of the Prodigal Son, on the other hand, the spontaneity of the sinner in his return to God comes into the foreground; yet so that it is by no means in a Pelagian sense the fruit of an isolated act of will, but in the sense that this resolution to return is occasioned by the course of circumstances into which he has come entirely against his own will under higher guidance, and in which he feels the bitterness of sin. The conclusion of the third parable not only adds to this a component part of admirable value over and above the first and second, but by it at the same time the whole triad of parables is applied to the shaming and rebuking of the Pharisaical hearers.
HOMILETICAL AND PRACTICAL
The parable of the Prodigal Son as it represents to us the history: 1. Of each man; 2. of all mankind. —The parable of the two lost sons, or the two main forms of the essence of sin.
The younger son: 1. The descending way of destruction: a. pride, b. wandering, c. servile bondage, d. wretchedness. 2. the ascending way of redemption: a. humility, b. return, c. freedom, d. life.—The younger son: 1. In his father’s house; 2. in a far country; 3. among the swine; 4. on the homeward way; 5. at the feast.—Self-seeking as it reveals itself: 1. In false craving for freedom; 2. in shameless covetousness; 3. in unbounded craving for enjoyment.—The Prodigal Son first inwardly, soon outwardly also, separated from his father.—Selfishness desires only God’s gifts, true love God Himself.—The enjoyment of sin is short, remorse for it long.—The associates of sinful joy remain no longer than the soon-squandered goods.—Often external calamities have the work of hastening the revelation of the inward wretchedness of sin.—The child of the house constrained: 1. To attach himself to one of the citizens of the far country; 2. to keep the swine; 3. to crave their fodder; 4. to find that he cannot even get this.—To “come to himself”: 1. The end of the old sinful, 2. the beginning of the new penitent, life.—The awakening: 1. Of the conscience; 2. of the understanding; 3. of the sensibility; 4. of the will.—How infinitely better it fares with the meanest day-laborer of the Father than with the sinner at the swine-trough, and even at the riotous banquet.—He “began to be in want,” the last word of the wretched history of every sinner. He suffers lack: 1. Of that which he once enjoyed; 2. of that which the world enjoys; 3. of that which the meanest hirelings of his Father enjoy.—The decisive resolve: “I will arise”: 1. How much it says; 2. how hard it is to carry out; 3. how richly it rewards.—The consciousness of guilt no fancy, but the expression of a terrible truth; happy he who has learned at the right time to impute to himself his sins as so many debts to God.—Even sin against others is still as ever sin against God.—The confession of sin before God a necessity of the repentant child.—The first step on the way to conversion.—Even when we are yet far from Him the Father sees us.—God’s love to sinners: 1. A compassionate; 2. a prevenient; 3. a forgiving; 4. an all-restoring, love.—God Himself longs not less for the wandering sinner than the sinner for Him, and tears down all the walls of division.—Many a humiliation which the sinner deserves, and which the penitent will impose upon himself, is remitted to him by God’s love.—The Prodigal Son reinstated: 1. In the former possession; 2. in the old rank; 3. in the lost happiness.—The best in the father’s house is for the lost son not too good.—The children of God and members of His family must rejoice with the Father over the return of the sinner.—The service of sin, death; conversion, a birth unto life.—The joy in the Father’s house over the returned son is perfect, even though the self-righteous take no part therein.
The elder son: 1. How much better he appears than the younger: a. the younger forsook the father, he remains; b. the younger squandered the father’s goods, he administered and increased them; c. the younger sought the company of harlots, he contents himself with his friends even without a kid; d. the younger comes even now from the swine, he from the field. 2. How wretchedly lost he is: a. he serves the father with a selfish, not with a childlike, mind; b. he has enjoyed the father’s love, and complains of having received no reward; c. he asserts himself never to have transgressed a commandment, and has never yet fulfilled one; d. he vaunts himself of his virtue, and in the same moment his transgression has increased. 3. How immeasurably wretched he becomes: he is on the way to lose, a. the love of his father, b. the heart of his brother, c. the joy in the parental dwelling, d. nay even the repute of his seeming virtue.—Did he also forsake his father’s house, and how have we then to represent to ourselves the end of his history? Michaelis thinks that we might continue the image so: he forsook his father with indignation, went into a strange land, became there much more unhappy, more despised, more vicious than ever his brother had been; he was held as a slave, and finally captured in company with bands of robbers. [If the Saviour meant us to understand all this, we have a right to believe that He would have expressed it. It is quite as fair to suppose that the son might have been brought to a better mind by this tender admonition. But what He leaves ambiguous here, He probably meant to remain uncertain.—C. C. S.]—How the self-righteous man stands related to God, and how God stands related to the self-righteous man.—“My child, what is mine is thine, and what is thine is mine.”—There exists a moral necessity of rejoicing over the conversion of the sinner, which the proud Pharisee despises.—Whom, therefore, does the image of the elder son represent, and which is better, to be like him or like the youngest?
Starke:—Dissimilar brothers.—Quesnel:—How dangerous when one will live for himself on his own account, to be subject to no one and rule himself.—If the soul has departed from God, it departs more and more from Him.—Nova Bibl. Tub.:—Many a young man goes adventurously into strange lands to make his fortune, but let him look well to it that he does not come to harm.—Let one learn to manage frugally; times change; how good is it then to have a penny in need!—Voluptuous swine belong among the swine.—How holy are God’s judgments!—Whoever will not be called God’s child may become a swine-herd and slave of the world.
Hedinger:—Distress furthers self-knowledge, misfortune sharpens the wits. Jer_2:19.—Brentius:—God disciplines through love and sorrow. If love cannot help, distress and all manner of plagues must come.—To true repentance belongs especially a spirit in which there is no falsehood; tempt God not.—A penitent man holds himself unworthy of the grace of the Heavenly Father.—Bibl. Wirt.:—The door of grace stands ever open, and God is much more disposed to forgive us our sins than we to pray for grace.—Cramer:—God’s grace is great, but not so great that a sinner can be partaker of the same without repentance.—Canstein:—Joy in the Lord should be common to all true Christians when they hear of true conversions.—Whoever repents becomes living again and dies never, but lives unto eternity—Anger makes enmity and finally separation.—Nova Bibl. Tub.:—Hypocrites are ever imagining that wrong is done them.—To those that are penitent one must not be bringing up their former sins or troubling them anew.—Quesnel:—Let us have a brother’s heart towards our brother, as God has a Father’s heart towards His children.
Heubner:—The original relation of man to God is that of a son to the father.—God lets men try to live without God, that it may be for them a memorial to eternity.—“Omnis locus, quem patre incolimus absente, famis, penuriœ et egestatis est.”—Out of God everything is husks, though it is tendered thee in gold and silver vessels, and even though it were poundcake.—The sinner finds from the world and its lords no compassion.—No repentance is nobler, even though bitterer, than repentance for having contemned love.—The son, from shame and fear, went timidly; the father ran.—The conversion of the sinner a high feast of joy.—Pride of virtue is hard towards the fallen.—Even in long service for the kingdom of God there may creep in a lukewarm, reward-craving temper.—God’s grace is never exhausted or diminished.
We may compare the explanations and the homiletical expositions of the parable by Ewald, Arndt, Eylert, Lisco, as also an excellent Dutch one by M. Cohen Stuart, Utrecht, 1859.—Massillon, an excellent sermon upon Unchastity in his Lent sermons.—Palmer:—The parable contains, a. the history of us all, b. an admonition for us all, c. a consolation for us all.—The miracle of grace wrought on the sinner.—Beck:—The sinner’s way to life.—Maier:—That light hearts must become heavy heavy light.—Ahlfeld:—The Prodigal Son: Seven Sermons for the season between Easter and Whitsuntide, 1849, Halle, 1850.—Heubner:—Three Sermons upon the parable of the Prodigal Son, Halle, 1840.—Couard:—Sermons.—Carl Zimmermann:—Four Special Sermons.—Van Oosterzee:—(upon the three parables together) The worth of a single soul: 1. The harm that is wrought on a single soul; 2. the compassion that is felt on account of a single soul; 3. the care that is expended on a single soul; 4. the grace that is glorified in one soul; 5. the joy that is experienced on account of one soul.—From this follows: 1. That carelessness of our soul is the most terrible transgression; 2. care for the good of others’ souls the highest duty; 3. glorifying of the Shepherd and Bishop of our souls the most fitting thank-offering.—N. B. Luk_15:18 an excellent text preparatory for the communion, or for New Year’s Eve.
Footnotes:
[2]Luk_15:17.—With Griesbach, Scholz, and Meyer, (Lachmann, Bleek, Tregelles, Alford, Cod. Sin.,] we believe that we must receive ῶ̓δε into the text, but place it before λιμῷ.
[3]Luk_15:19.—Rec.: καὶ οὐκέτι εἰμὶ, κ.τ.λ., without sufficient grounds; καί may be omitted, and then the broken character of the soliloquy forms a beauty the more.
[4]Luk_15:21.—See note 2.
[5]Luk_15:22.—Τὴν before στολήν should he expunged, see Tischendorf; this makes the first mention of στολήν quite indefinite, with τὴν πρώτην afterwards added as apposition; see Winer, Grammatik, § 204. Although ταχύ (D., ταχέως) has some authorities of weight for it, B., [Cod. Sin.,] L., X., &c., yet it is probable that this word was interpolated later, in order to heighten yet more the force of the father’s word. [Lachmann, Meyer, Alford retain ταχύ; Tregelles brackets it. Found in B., D., Cod. Sin., L., X.—C. C. S.]
[6]Luk_15:29.—Αὐτοῦ ought, on the authority of A., B., D., P., and others, to be received in the text, as by Lachmann and Tischendorf, [Meyer, Tregelles, Alford.]
Lange's Commentary on the Holy Scriptures (Critical, Doctrinal, and Homiletical), ed. John Peter Lange, English translation edited by Philip Schaff (1864–1880) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Daniel D. Whedon 1874 · Public Domain The Prodigal Son—The knowing and wandering sinner.
PARABLE THIRD.
The Prodigal Son—The knowing and wandering sinner.
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11. And he said—This phrase may imply, by distinctly marking off the ensuing parable, that it was spoken at a different time from the two previous. We prefer to consider all three as occurring in parts of one discourse, though perhaps separated by intervening remarks which are not recorded. It is, we think, very probable that few or none of our Lord’s discourses are reported without some abridgement.
This has been called by some the pearl among parables; by others a gospel in the Gospel. And it is one of those passages, preserved by Luke alone, which seem to remind us that Luke was not a Jew but a Gentile.
A certain man—God the Father, as the woman impersonates the Holy Spirit, and the shepherd the blessed Son.
Two sons—Let the reader not forget what we have said, that these are Christ’s defences of his receiving publicans and sinners; or rather his rebuke of the Jewish hierarchy for not receiving them, while they murmured at his doing so. The two sons are, first, the scribe and his class; and, second, the publican or (Gentile) sinner, and his class. These may be so extended as to make the former the Jews and the latter the Gentiles. But this would, indeed, be an extended and not the simple primary meaning.
Daniel D. Whedon (gen. ed.), Commentary on the Old and New Testaments (1874–1909) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges 1878 · Public Domain 11-32. The Son lost and found.
11-32. The Son lost and found.
11. had tzuo sons] The primary applications of this divine parable,— which is peculiar to St Luke, and would alone have added inestimable value to his Gospel—are (1) to the Pharisees and the ‘sinners’—i.e. to the professedly religious, and the openly irreligious classes; and (2) to the Jews and Gentiles. This latter application however only lies indirectly in the parable, and it is doubtful whether it would have occurred consciously to those who heard it. This is the Evangelium in Evangelio. How much it soars above the conceptions of Christians, even after hundreds of years of Christianity, is shewn by the ‘elder- brotherly spirit’ which has so often been manifested (e.g. by Tertullian and all like him) in narrowing its interpretation.
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges (gen. ed. J. J. S. Perowne; Cambridge University Press, 1878–1918) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Ellicott's Commentary for English Readers 1878 · Public Domain (11) And he said, A certain man had two…
(11) And he said, A certain man had two sons.—We enter here on one of the parables which are not only peculiar to St. Luke’s Gospel, but have something of a different character, as giving more than those we find in the other Gospels, the incidents of a story of common daily life. As with the Good Samaritan, it seems open to us to believe that it rested on a substratum of facts that had actually occurred. It is obvious that in the then social state of Palestine, brought into contact as the Jews were with the great cities of the Roman empire, such a history as that here recorded must have been but too painfully familiar.
In the immediate application of the parable, the father is the great Father of the souls of men; the elder son represents the respectably religious Pharisees; the younger stands for the class of publicans and sinners. In its subsequent developments it applies to the two types of character which answers to these in any age or country. On a wider scale, but with a less close parallelism, the elder son may stand for Israel according to the flesh; the younger for the whole heathen world. Looking back to the genealogies of Gen_5:10; Gen_9:18, and even (according to the true construction of the words) Gen_10:21, they correspond respectively to the descendants of Shem and those of Japheth. It is obvious from the whole structure of the parable that the elder son cannot represent the unfallen part of God’s creation; and, so far as it goes, this tells against that interpretation of the ninety and nine sheep, or the nine pieces of silver.
A Bible Commentary for English Readers, edited by Charles John Ellicott (1878–1897) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Pulpit Commentary 1880 · Public Domain And he said, A certain man had two sons.…
And he said, A certain man had two sons. It seems probable that this and the two preceding shorter parables were spoken by the Lord on the same occasion, towards the latter part of this slow solemn journeying to the holy city to keep his last Passover. The mention of the publicans and sinners in ver. 1 seems to point to some considerable city, or its immediate vicinity, as the place where these famous parables were spoken. This parable, as it is termed, of the prodigal son completes the trilogy. Without it the Master"s formal apologia for his life and work would be incomplete, and the rebuke of the Pharisaic selfishness and censoriousness would have been left unfinished. In the apologia much had still to be said concerning the limitless love and the boundless pity of God.
In the rebuke the two first parables had shown the Pharisee party and the rulers of Israel how they ought to have acted: this third story shows them how they did act. But the Church of Christ as each successive generation read this exquisite and true story soon lost sight of all the temporal and national signification at first connected with it. The dweller in the cold and misty North feels that it belongs to him as it does to the Syrian, revelling in his almost perpetual summer, to whom it was first spoken. It is a story of the nineteenth century just as it was a story of the first. We may, with all reverence, think of the Divine Master, as he unfolded each successive scene which portrayed human sin and suffering, and heavenly pity and forgiveness, man"s selfish pride and God"s all-embracing love, passing into another and broader sphere than that bounded by the Arabian deserts to the south and the Syrian mountains to the north, forgetting for a moment the little Church of the Hebrews, and speaking to the great Church of the future the Church of the world, to which, without doubt, this Catholic parable of the prodigal, in all its sublime beauty and exquisite pathos, with all its exhaustless wealth of comfort, belongs.
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Vers. 11-32. The parable of the prodigal son.
This parable is at once a history, a poem, and a prophecy, A history of man in innocence, in sin, in redemption, in glory. A poem the song of salvation, whose refrain, "My son was dead, and is alive again, was lost, and is found," is ringing through the courts of the Zion of God. A prophecy, speaking most directly and solemnly, in warning and meditation, emphasis of reproof or of encouragement, to each of us. It is beyond the reach of the scalpel of criticism. Its thoughts, its very words, have enriched every speech and language in which its voice has been heard. It stands before us "the pearl of parables," "the gospel in the gospel" of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. It is the last of three stories, illustrative of Divine grace, which were spoken especially to the Pharisees, and to them with reference to their cavil as expressed in ver. 2. Without minutely analyzing the three, the progress of the teaching may be indicated. Bengel has, with his usual felicitousness of touch, indicated this progress. The silly sheep represents the sinner in his foolishness. The sinner lying in the dust, yet still with the stamp of Divinity on him, is figured by the piece of money. Finally, the younger of the two sons is the representation of the sinner left to the freedom of his own will, and falling into an estate of sin and misery. We can trace, too, a progress in the setting forth of the Divine love. The journey of the shepherd into the far wilderness speaks to us of the infinite compassion of highest God; for the sheep"s own sake he goes after it until he finds it; and the recovery is the occasion of the joy of heaven. The aspect specially illustrated by the search for the piece of silver is the infinite value to God of every soul. Not one will he lose; for his righteousness" sake he will seek until he finds. The last of the parables combines the two former, with a glory superadded: Infinite Compassion recognizing the infinite preciousness of the human life, but this, now, in the higher region of Fatherhood and sonship. Let us discard all stiffening exposition of Christ"s words; e.g. that which takes as its key-thought that the younger son is the Gentile world, the elder son the Jewish Church. Let us regard it in the width of its generosity, as the picture of him whose love is reflected in the "Man who receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." The two words of the parable are "lost" and "found," Let us try to open up the wealth of meaning in them.
I LOST.
1. Whence? There is a glimpse into the sweet home-life the father with the two sons. The joy of the father"s home is the communion of his children. It was what he saw in the Father which moved the prayer of Jesus, "That they whom thou gavest me may be with me where I am." The joy of the child"s home is the communion of the Father, and is realized when the Father"s life not the Father"s living is the desire, and the word of the psalm is fulfilled, "In thy presence is fulness of joy, and in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore." So we think of the days speeding on-musical, blessed days, such as we recollect, perhaps, in the home of our childhood, when, as we look back, the sun seemed to shine far more brightly than now, and the day was longer, and all was peace. Parents and children together! For it is man"s home to abide with God as Father. By-and-by there comes the far country, because there is no Father.
2. How? The younger son demands the portion of goods that falleth to him. Mark how the tone has lowered, how the eye has drooped. "Father, give me!" is the cry of the filial heart. "Give me my daily bread!" is a true prayer, because it waits on God; it sees the living in the life which he gives. But "my portion of goods" is the voice of a sinful independence. It separates "what is mine" from what is "my Father"s;" it conceives of his as being, by some right or title, mine. Himself, as the good, is no longer the all. This is the serpent"s lie. "Ye shall not surely die, for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." Such was the seductive whisper in the beginning. As if
(1) God was keeping to himself a Goddom, in jealousy preventing the enjoyment of a blessedness which was the man"s right. And as if
(2) the way to know good is through the experience of evil good discerned as the opposite of that which we have tasted, instead of evil being felt only as the darkness seeking to overtake the light in which we are abiding. The serpent"s lie repeats itself in many forms, not the least familiar that which insinuates, "Let the young man sow his wild oats; the good oats will come afterwards. Let him take his fill of enjoyment; there will come the sober days and the quiet time." It works in us all; it is the tendency of the sinful mind to withdraw from the authority of Heaven, from the rule of duteous love, to appropriate for sell", and in mere self-will, the living of God. The father does not deny the son. He respects the sovereignty in the son which is derived from himself. "He who suffers us to go our way takes care indeed that it be hedged with thorns." But a son cannot be forced as a slave. If go he will, go he must. The father divides the living.
3. Whither? Not at once, possibly, does the separation in will show itself. It is not always easy to trace the first moment of the apostasy. Many a one continues, for a time, in the semblance of piety, even after he has ceased to desire spiritual things But "not many days after" the rift in the lute appears, "He gathers all together. Now the purpose of the will is active; no advice will stand in the man"s path. The father"s tear, the father"s smile, avails not; not the sight of the old roof-tree, or the remembrance of the sweet life that lies behind. There is an eager "farewell;" he rushes forwardWhither? "To a far country." Yes; yield to appetite, to fleshly lust, it will take the soul on and on, away from the fences of religion, away to the far-off Nod, bidding it, as Cain did, build there the city of habitation, yet bidding only to mock, since he who would put miles between him and the face of his Father in heaven must be a sorry fugitive and vagabond. "A far country!" That is wherever God is forgotten, is dishonoured as the Father. No ship is needed to bear one to the uttermost parts of the earth; the distance is measured not by oceans or continents, but by tracts of affection and sympathy. "Alienated from the life of God this is the far country. Observe the two stages of the existence in the far country the fulness and the famine.
(1) There is fulness a season of apparently inexhaustible happiness: "riotous living." The life of the youth is like a mountain-torrent that has been pent up and bursts forth. The Greek word has the force of "prodigally." And prodigal the wanderer is in the earlier period. Fill high the bowl; loud let the revel swell; eat, drink; there is more to follow, there is more behind. "Such is the world"s gay garish feast In her first charming bowl, Infusing all that fires the breast, And cheats th" unstable soul.
But what? "The substance is wasting;" literally, is "scattering abroad;" for so it is. As has well been said," All creaturely possession consumes itself in the using; all wealth must turn itself into poverty, either by its actual dissipation or in consequence of the folly of covetousness, which the more mammon increases is the less satisfied by it. Thus man, in his sin, consumes first of all his earthly goods, so that he can no more find comfort or satisfaction in them; and then, alas! the true and real possessions which his heavenly Father communicated to him are also consumed." What a description of substance scattered! (Pro_5:7-14)
(2) Then comes in the second stage. All which had been gathered together spent; then arises the famine. For one who has nothing there is always a famine in that land. The world will give you so long as you have to give it; when you can bring nothing, when you are used up; ah, the fields which seemed golden become the bleakest of moors. There is no sight more pitiful than a worn-out, used-up worldling. "The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile
Alas! the pleasure has died out; the soul, the immortal self, not yet dead, is in want in a famine-stricken land, How is this want to be met?
4. Wherein? It is an evil and bitter thing to forsake the Lord. The son"s own wickedness is correcting him, and his backslidings are reproving him. In want, but not yet in poverty blessed with desire. Here is the witness. Hitherto the son has been the son, wicked, reckless, but still not naturalized in that far country. The day of this separation has passed; and, oh! the double degradation! "He joins himselfpins himself" is the word becomes wholly, abjectly dependent on, "a citizen of that country." He began by being his own master; he ends by being the slave of the citizen. The world uses for its pleasure the one who uses the world for his pleasure. A man"s passion is his minister for a time; by-and-by it becomes his tyrant. A very hard tyrant! The devil has no respect for the freedom of the will: "I was your companion, your Mephistopheles, your slave. Now I have you, you are mine; get out and feed these swine." It was an employment which conveyed the idea of utter wretchedness to a Jew. Strong, thickly laid, is the colouring; it is not one whit too strong or too thickly laid for fact. How do we behold this prince, this son of the Father? Toiling in the fields, with no shelter except the rude hut which he makes, and his only companions the herd of swine! And all the while the hunger gnawing! Were not these swine, wallowing in the mire, picking the carobs, eating the scanty grass, happy as compared with him? They got what they wanted; he provided their food for them, but there is none to give him. He had rejected his father"s hand, and there is no hand in all the world outstretched to him. In Oriental lands there grows a tree whose fruit is like the bean-pod, though larger than it, with a dull, sweet taste; the swine would take of it; and the longing eye of the swineherd is cast on it. It is all he can get, for there is no food in that far country suited to him. The soul starves, whether in riotous living or in want, until it looks upwards and learns the old home-cry, "Father, give me!
II FOUND. Consider the return, the welcome, the supper. "It is meet," says the father, "that we should make merry and be glad.
1. Mark the steps oft he return. The hopeful feature about the poor swineherd is that, although pinned to the citizen of the country, he is yet a person distinct. He has sold himself; but himself is more then, other than, the citizen. There is an inalienable nobility which even "riotous living" cannot stamp out. There are "obstinate questionings, "blank misgivings," "fugitive recollections of the imperial palace whence he came." Ponder the record of the finding of the conscience, and the Litany first, and the Jubilate afterwards, which followed the finding. "He comes to himself." He has never been the right true self from the moment when he demanded the portion. The right self is sonship. This wallowing in the sty with swine, this bound-overness to tyrant appetite and earthliness ah! as one awaking from a horrid dream he recognizes the reality. And wherein does the conscience, now awakened, become articulate?
(1) There is the sense of an awful discord and wrong. The menial of that citizen left to starve. How different are the menials in his father"s house! They have bread enough and to spare. "Whatever is orderly is blest. I, the disorderly, the one out of place, out of my right mind, am the unblest, the one perishing with hunger." It was this feeling which came over the wild student when, in the solemn sweet moonlight, he gazed from the height on one of the fairest scenes of nature. And the cry was evoked, "All lovely, all peaceful, except myself! a cry that bade him back to another and nobler life. Who is there that in calmer moments does not understand the inward glance of the vision the peaceful father"s house, and the misrule, unrule, of the self-willed and undutiful?
(2) There succeeds a higher thought: "The menial in that house, and I, the son!" Gradually there emerges the feeling of the heaven the authority from which the soul has broken, the order it has contravened, and more still, "against heaven, and before thee. " The recollection of the father rushes in, bringing tides of holy ardour. His eye, the son feels, has been following him in the journey, in the wasting of the substance; it has been all before him. " "O my father, my father! to have grieved and wounded thee! I will weep no longer. I will arise and go. I will throw myself on thee. I will ask for a place anywhere, if only it is near thee; if I may be again in thy sight, and no longer the sinner!" It is a repentance not to be repented of. The matter of it is not, "I have played the fool exceedingly;" it is ever and throughout "I have sinned." What causes the will to arise is the longing to be again with the father, to pour out the broken and contrite spirit on his bosom. And he arises and goes. "The best and most blessed said and done" that can be in heaven or on earth.
2. And now for the welcome. The love that descends is always greater than the love that ascends. The love of the child is only a response to the love of the parent. And as to this father! Most touchingly explicit is the word of Jesus. When yet a great way off, the father saw him." A very great way off! Even in the far country he had been near. The seeing expresses the knowing all about the misery, and the earnestness of the return a seeing that is a drawing also, a drawing through the need, and all along the journey forming an atmosphere of love that compassed him about. To come to the love of God is to realize that he was first; it is to find that which found us when yet a great way apart. What more? A reproach? A reproof? The arms are at once thrown around the neck, and the kiss of reconciling fatherliness is printed on the cheek. The forgiveness, observe, comes before all confession. In confessing the sin we meet the blessing that has already covered us, But there is a confession. "The truest and best repentance," as it has been said, "follows, and does not precede, the sense of forgiveness; and thus too, repentance will be a thing of the whole life long, for every new insight into that forgiving love is as a new reason why the sinner should mourn that he ever sinned against it." Only, note, beneath the pressure of that fatherly heart there is no mention of the hired servant"s place. The "Father, I have sinned," is sobbed forth on the father"s heart, and the son leaves himself to the father"s will. And how the expression of the welcome rises! The best robe is ordered out; a sonship higher than that of mere birth. "The adoption of children by Jesus Christ to the Father" is the best robe. And the ring is to be put on the hand the ring with the seal of the spirit of adoption. And shoes are provided for the torn and weary feet, that henceforth they may walk up and down in the Name of the Lord. And hasten, complete the tokens of the rejoicing make ready the supper in which the father can rejoice over his child with joy, and rest in his love.
3. The fulfilment of the welcome is the supper, with the slain fatted calf, and the dancing and music. It denotes the free festal joy of God, of heaven, in the found, repenting sinner. It denotes also the festal blessedness of the sinner himself when the great Object of all need and longing is found, when he is at home with his God. There is a representation of the supper in Romans 5. We hear the music and dancing in Romans 8. They express the truth of the new existence. There had been, in the past, a living, but not a fellowship, with the Father; henceforth it is fellowship: God is the soul"s Good, and the life is lived in and out of him. Oh the swellings of harmony, of poetic triumphant raptures, now! "My son was dead; and is alive again; was lost, and is found." So much for the younger son and the father. But we must not overlook the elder son. And we must not misjudge him. He was not bad; he is not a mere churl. He is faithful, if he is not free; he is just, if he is not generous. He had never transgressed a command; if his life had no heights, it had no depths; it had been even and calm. And he had been blessed, for he had been ever with the father, and all that was the father"s had been his. We need not fix on any particular representation of the elder son. The Pharisee-heart is, no doubt, castigated in the picture. But it touches many who would resent being associated with the Pharisee. Krum-macher was once asked his opinion of the elder son. He quietly said, "I well know now, for I learned it only yesterday." Being asked further, he laconically remarked, "Myself," and confessed that yesterday he had fretted his heart to find that a very ill-conditioned person had suddenly been enriched with a remarkable visitation of grace. The sketch supplies the foil to the love of God. It brings out, also, his patience and gentleness in the dealing with the elder son. How the father bears even with the foolish wrath! How he reasons and expostulates, and invites to a share in the joy! "Meet that we should make merry, and be glad I over my son, thou over thy brother." Two things notice.
a. The one as bearing on the elder son. He comes out of the. fields, punctual and orderly in all his ways. He cannot understand the merry making; he never had received a kid. That son"s life had been a wholesome one, The prodigal had his ecstasies; but the elder son had had his lifetime. He is the man of habit habit which is to us better than instinct. The danger to the man of habit is that he becomes mechanical, doing his part steadily, but without the oil of gladness.
b. The other as bearing on the younger son. Let not Christ"s teaching be misapplied. Do not think that it is a higher thing to be first irreligious and then religious; to spend the best part of the life in self-gratification, and give God only the remnants. Ah! years of godlessness leave their record. They write their impression on brain and heart; and, free and full as is God"s forgiveness, the impression cannot be obliterated. What a man sows, he reaps.
The Father"s home.
By the Father"s home we commonly mean the heavenly home, the sphere where the nearer and more immediate presence of God is realized. But heaven once included earth earth was once a district of heaven. God meant this world to be a part of his own home; this, but for the separating force of sin, it would be now; and this, when sin has been cast forth, it will be again. And it is properly regarded as a home because the relation in which God wished its inhabitants to stand toward himself was that (and is that) of children to a Father. The truest picture, the nearest statement, the least imperfect representation of that relationship, is not found in the words, "A certain king had subjects," or "A certain proprietor had servants (or slaves)," but in those of our text, A certain man had sons. " Nothing so adequately represents God"s position toward us as fatherhood, or our true position toward him as sonship, or the sphere in which we live before him as the Father"s home. This family relationship means
I HIS DWELLING WITH US. God"s dwelling with us or in us is very closely associated with his Fatherhood of us. (see 2Co_6:16-18) The ideal human father is one who dwells under the roof where the family resides; who is at home with his children, maintaining a frequent and a close and intimate intercourse with them. Such is God our Father"s desire concerning us. He wishes to be near us all and near us always; so near to us that we have constant access to him; that our free, full, happy, unconstrained "fellowship is with the Father;" that it is the natural and instinctive thing for us to go to him and make our appeal to him in all time of need.
II HIS CONTROL OF OUR LIVES. God"s purpose is to direct the lives we are living, to choose our way for us, even as a father for his children; so that we shall be going where he sends us, be doing his work, be filling up his outline, be walking in the path his own hand has traced.
III HIS EDUCATION OF OUR SPIRITS. Our children come to our home with great capacities, but with no power. It is our parental privilege to educate them, so that their various faculties physical, mental, spiritual shall be developed, so that they shall gain knowledge, acquire wisdom, exert influence, be a blessing and a power in the world. God places us here, in this home of his, that he may educate us; that, by all we see and hear, by all we do and suffer, we may be taught and trained for noble character, for faithful service, for an ever-broadening sphere.
IV HIS PARENTAL SATISFACTION WITH US. Perhaps the most exquisite satisfaction, the very keenest joy which fills and thrills the human heart, is that which is born of parental love; it is the intense and immeasurable delight with which the father and the mother behold their children as these manifest not merely the beauties of bodily form but the graces of Christian character, and as they bring forth the fruits of a holy and useful life. God meant and still means to have such parental joy in us; to look on us, the children of his home, and be gladdened in his heart more than when he looks on all the wonders of his hand in field and forest, in sea and sky. It is our docility, our affection, our obedience, our rectitude and beauty of character and of spirit, that constitute the source of his Divine satisfaction. The children of the Father"s home are dearer and more precious far than any marvellous things in all the breadth of his universe. Thus God"s thought concerning our race was to establish a holy family, himself the Divine Father; we his holy, loving, rejoicing, human children; this world a happy home. That was his thought in creation, that is his purpose in redemption. To its blissful realization the best contribution each one of us can make is to become his true and trustful child, reconciled to him in Jesus Christ, living before him every day in filial love and joy. C.
Vers. 11-32. "From home, and back.
The two previous parables which our Lord related in defence of his conduct are really but introductory to what has been with justice called "the pearl of parables," that of the prodigal son. To it we will now devote ourselves, under the title recently given to it as "From home, and back." It brings out in a most interesting way the attitude of God the Father towards lost souls. It is necessary before setting out, however, to notice that, according to the ancient Law, the division of the family inheritance was not conditioned by the parent"s death. If a son insisted on his share, the father publicly declared to his household his testamentary intentions, and the son entered at once into possession. What our Lord"s parable supposes, therefore, is what constantly occurred. The father did not keep his testamentary intentions a secret to be revealed only at his death, but got up and declared publicly how the inheritance was to be allotted, and the impatient son entered at once into possession. Death, as a matter of fact, does not enter into the case at all. There is another preliminary point which we had better distinctly state, and that is that historically the younger son is intended to cover the case of the "publicans and sinners" Jesus was receiving into the kingdom of God; while the elder son covers the case of the "Pharisees and scribes" who murmured at Christ"s policy. If we keep this clearly in view, it will hell) us greatly in our interpretation. We shall take up the two sons in the order presented in the parable.
I THE PRODIGAL LEAVING HOME AND COMING BACK. (Vers. 11-24) Imagining he could not enjoy life with his father and amid the restraints of home, he clamours for his share of the inheritance, turns it into money, and sets out. We cannot do better than take up the stages in the history one by one, and interpret them as we proceed. We have, then:
1. The emigration. (Ver. 13) Now, if this younger son represents historically "the publicans and sinners," we must remember that they did not leave Palestine or even Jerusalem when separated from the Jewish Church. The emigration pictured in the parable was, therefore, not emigration to a locally distant land, but to a morally distant land; in other words, by the "far country" is not meant a foreign country, but the country of forgetfulness of God. The soul that lives at a distance from God, that never considers that he is near, has by that forgetfulness of him emigrated to the "far country" and gone from home. In strict accordance with this principle of interpretation, the "substance" which was gathered and wasted in the far country was moral wealth, not monetary. As a matter of fact, the publicans, or tax-gatherers, were in many cases careful, money-gathering men. and not spendthrifts in the vulgar sense. What was squandered, therefore, in the far off land of forgetfulness of God was moral wealth, the wealth of the heart and mind. The waste was moral waste. And it is just here that we have to notice what may be called the defamation of the prodigal, in that painters and expositors have represented his riotous living" as including actually the deepest immorality. This was the line adopted, too, by the elder brother, who represented his brother as having devoured the father"s living with harlots (ver. 30), although, as a matter of fact, he had no evidence of such "excess of riot" in the case at all. The most careful expositor of this parable has accordingly pointed out that the prodigal did not reach the sphere of sensuality until he envied the swine, and then only entered it by the mental act. It is when we note how carefully our Lord constructed the parable, that we can see how the moral character of the publicans was appreciated in the picture, and they were not confounded with sinners of the more sensual type. The far-off country, then, and the waste which took place there, represent the land of forgetfulness of God, and the waste of mind and heart that a God-forgetting life is certain to experience.
2. The famine. (Ver. 14) This is the second stage. It represents the hunger of the heart and mind which comes over the soul that has forgotten God and taken to worldly courses. The famine is the utter vacancy of heart that settles down upon the moral emigrant. He begins to realize what he has lost by leaving God.
3. The effort after recovery. (Vers. 15, 16) The famished worldling betakes himself to work; becomes a swineherd an unlawful occupation for a Jew our Lord touching thus gently on the question of the farming of the taxes for Rome by the publicans; and finds that there is no real regeneration to be found in work. He, in his utter want of satisfaction, wishes he could satisfy his soul as the swine satisfy their nature, upon husks. Sensuality is seen by the famished one to be as unsatisfying as work. And then the last experience is the utter helplessness of man. "No man gape unto him;" no one could minister to his mental trouble. It is through a similar experience the soul comes. Self-recovery turns out to be a delusion, and man is found to be of no avail.
4. The return of reason. (Vers. 17-19) In his isolation he begins to see that all the past forgetfulness of God was a mistake; that he was insane to take the course he did; and that in his right mind he must act differently. Accordingly he begins in sane moments to reflect on the Father"s house, how good a Master God is, how his hirelings have always enough and to spare, and that the best thing for him to do is to return, confess his fault, and get what place in God"s house he can. This is repentance the remembrance of God and how we have sinned against him.
5. Coming back. (Ver. 20) The resolution to come home must be put in practice. The hope may only be for a servant"s place, yet it is well to begin the return journey and test the loving-kindness of God.
6. The welcome home. (Vers. 20, 21) The father has been on the look-out for the son, and, the moment he begins the journey, the father"s compassion becomes overpowering, and. he runs and falls on the prodigal"s neck and kisses him. And when the broken-hearted son pours forth his penitence, and that he is no more worthy to be called a son, he is met by the father"s welcome and passionate embrace. In this most beautiful way does our Lord bring out God"s yearning for lost souls, and his intense delight when they return to him.
7. The feast of joy. (Vers. 22-24) Orders are given to the servants to take away his rags, and put upon him the best robe, and a ring on his hand, as signs of his rank as his father"s son, and shoes on his feet, and to prepare the fatted calf and have a merry feast. In this way does our Lord indicate the joy which fills God"s heart and that of the angels and that of the returned soul himself when he has come home to God. It is indeed "joy unspeakable and full of glory." These are the stages, then, in a soul"s history as it passes into the far-off land of forgetfulness of God, and then gets back to his embrace.
II THE ELDER SON STAYING AT HOME, BUT NEVER HAPPY. (Vers. 25-32) We now turn to our Lord"s picture of the Pharisees and scribes, under the guise of the elder brother. Although these men had not left the Church, although they put in their appearance at the temple, they never were happy in their religion.
1. Nominally at home, the elder son is yet from home. (Ver. 25) The elder son was always at work i u the fields, happiest away from the father. The self-righteous spirit is after all an isolating spirit. The elder son was really as forgetful of God as the younger, only the forgetfulness took a different form.
2. The merry-making at home distresses him. (Vers. 26-30) He first asks an explanation of the unusual mirth, and then, when he gets it, bursts into a fit of censoriousness of the most exaggerated character, in which he accuses the father of favouritism in receiving his penitent child, and refuses to be any party to such merry-making. How it exposes the gloomy, Pharisaic spirit which with some passes for religion!
3. The godless spirit manifests itself within him. (Ver. 29) He has been a faithful and faultless servant, he believes, and yet he has never got even a kid to make merry with his friends. His whole idea of joy is away fern the father. He is still in the first stage of the younger brother, from which he happily has escaped.
4. He is unable to realize how meet it is to rejoice over the return of the lost. (Vers. 31, 32) The father"s expostulations are vain, although they ought to have been convincing. Joy over the recovery of the lost is one of the necessities of an unwarped nature. It was this great sin of which the scribes and Pharisees were guilty, that they would not rejoice at the recovery of fallen fellows by the ministry of Christ. May the broken heartedness of the prodigal be ours, and never the heartlessness and censoriousness of the elder brother! R.M.E.
The Pulpit Commentary (1880–1919), ed. H.D.M. Spence-Jones & Joseph S. Exell — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Biblical Illustrator 1887 · Public Domain A certain man had two sons.
Luk_15:11-32
A certain man had two sons.
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The prodigal and his brother
I. GODS TREATMENT OF THE PENITENT.
1. The alienation of the heart from God.
(1) Homelessness.
(2) Worldly happiness is unsatisfying. Husks are not food.
(3) Degradation.
2. The period of repentance.
(1) The first fact of religious experience which this parable suggests to us is that common truth--men desert the world when the world deserts them. The renegade came to himself when there were no more husks to eat. He would have remained away if he could have got them, but it is written, no man gave unto him. And this is the record of our shame. Invitation is not enough; we must be driven to God. And the famine comes not by chance. God sends the famine into the soul--the hunger, and thirst, and the disappointment--to bring back his erring child again.
(2) There is another truth contained in this section of the parable. After a life of wild sinfulness religion is servitude at first, not freedom. Observe, he went back to duty with the feelings of a slave: I am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants. Any one who has lived in the excitement of the world, and then tried to settle down at once to quiet duty, knows how true that is. To borrow a metaphor from Israels desert life, it is a tasteless thing to live on manna after you have been feasting upon quails. It is a dull cold drudgery to find pleasure in simple occupation when life has been a succession of strong emotions. Sonship it is not; it is slavery. A son obeys in love, entering heartily into his fathers meaning. A servant obeys mechanically, rising early because he must; doing, it may be, his duty well, but feeling in all its force the irksomeness of the service. Sonship does not come all at once.
3. The reception which a sinner meets with on his return to God. The banquet represents to us two things.
(1) It tells of the fathers gladness on his sons return. That represents Gods joy on the reformation of a sinner.
(2) It tells of a banquet and a dance given to the long lost son. That represents the sinners gladness when he first understood that God was reconciled to him in Christ. There is a strange, almost wild, rapture, a strong gush of love and happiness in those days which are called the days of first conversion. When a man who has sinned much--a profligate--turns to God, and it becomes first clear to his apprehension that there is love instead of spurning for him, there is a luxury of emotion--a banquet of tumultuous blessedness in the moment of first love to God, which stands alone in life, nothing before and nothing after like it. And, brethren, let us observe--This forgiveness is a thing granted while a man is yet afar off.
II. GODS EXPOSTULATION WITH A SAINT. The true interpretation seems to be that this elder brother represents a real Christian perplexed with Gods mysterious dealings. We have before us the description of one of those happy persons who have been filled with the Holy Ghost from their mothers womb, and on the whole (with imperfections of course) remained Gods servant all his life. For this is his own account of himself, which the father does not contradict. Lo! these many years do I serve thee. We observe then: The objection made to the reception of a notorious sinner--Thou never gavest me a kid. Now, in this we have a fact true to Christian experience. Joy seems to be felt more vividly and more exuberantly by men who have sinned much, than by men who have grown up consistently from childhood with religious education. Rapture belongs to him whose sins, which are forgiven, are many. In the perplexity which this fact occasions, there is a feeling which is partly right and partly wrong. There is a surprise which is natural. There is a resentful jealousy which is to be rebuked. And now mark the fathers answer. It does not account for this strange dealing by Gods sovereignty. It does not cut the knot of the difficulty, instead of untying it, by saying, God has a right to do what He will. He does not urge, God has a right to act on favouritism if He please. But it assigns two reasons. The first reason is, It was meet, right that we should make merry. It is meet that God should be glad on the reclamation of a sinner. It is meet that that sinner, looking down into the dreadful chasm over which he had been tottering, should feel a shudder of delight through all his frame on thinking of his escape. And it is meet that religious men should not feel jealous of one another, but freely and generously join in thanking God that others have got happiness, even if they have not. The spirit of religious exclusiveness, which looks down contemptuously instead of tenderly on worldly men, and banishes a man for ever from the circle of its joys because he has sinned notoriously, is a bad spirit. Lastly, the reason given for this dealing is, Son, thou art always with Me, and all that I have is thine. By which Christ seems to tell us that the disproportion between man and man is much less than we suppose. The profligate had had one hour of ecstasy--the other had had a whole life of peace. A consistent Christian may not have rapture; but he has that which is much better than rapture: calmness--Gods serene and perpetual presence. And after all, brethren, that is the best. (F. W. Robertson, M. A.)
A mirror of mercy
1. First, then, in that he is called a young man, there is noted in him want of knowledge and experience as the ground and fountain of all his folly, he knew not as yet what his father was worth unto him. And, therefore, he is not afraid to forsake him. This is to teach us that none forsakes the Lord, but such as do know Him not, and understand not that in so doing they forsake their own mercy. As beasts that know not the value of pearls care not to trample them under their feet, or as young children laugh at the death of their parents, because they know not for the present what they lose thereby, but afterwards remember it with grief; so blinded man without remorse runs away from God, not knowing what he lost by departing from the Lord, for He is light, and they go into utter darkness that go from Him. He is life, and they are but dead who abide not in fellowship with Him. One example of this we have in the elect angels; they are never weary to behold His excellent Majesty; they find ever new matter of joy in His face.
2. Secondly, in this prodigal child is noted here, that natural rebellion which is in all men; that they will not submit themselves to the will of God their Heavenly Father, but will follow their own wills.
3. The third evil noted here in this prodigal is his hypocrisy; he calls him in word father, but in deed did not so account of him; he carried not toward him the heart of a child; this is a part of that poison wherewith Satan hath infected our nature. Is there any comparison between that which thou givest the Lord and that which thou gettest from Him?
4. That he seeks a portion of his fathers goods, but not his fathers favour and blessing, represents to us the earthly minds of naturalists, who prefer the gifts of God to God Himself. (Bishop Cowper.)
The parable of the prodigal
Captain Sir W.E. Parry observes, There is nothing even in the whole compass of Scripture more calculated to awaken contrition in the hardest heart than the parable of the Prodigal Son. I knew a convict in New South Wales, in whom there appeared no symptoms of repentance in other respects, but who could never hear a sermon or comment on this parable without bursting into an agony of tears, which I witnessed on several occasions. Truly He who spoke it knew what was in man. It is the prince of parables, a gospel within the gospel, a mirror of man, an artless yet profound little drama of human ruin and recovery. Wonderful, indeed, is its power to touch the sensibilities. I have wept but once these forty years, said a veteran military officer, and that was when I heard Jesse Bushyhead, the Cherokee preacher, address his countrymen from the parable of the Prodigal Son, the tears flowing faster than he could wipe them away. (A. G. Thomson, D. D.)
The parable of fatherhood
I. LET US FOLLOW THE SINNER IN HIS REBELLION. In this part of the picture we shall perceive that sin is vicious in principle, ruinous in operation, and ever multiplying its destructive issues.
(1) SIN IS VICIOUS IN PRINCIPLE.
1. What is the unexpressed but fundamental axiom of all sin? A human being exists to pursue his own gratification, without regard to the will of God. That is it.
2. The younger son acts out the rule of life ascribed to him. For observe, the employment of the resources of existence for self-indulgence he claims as a right. Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.
3. Now definite plans for self-indulgence follow. His notions of life and felicity are not a theory, but meant to be a practice; and he does his best to be ready for it.
4. Notice, next, the haste of sin. Not many days after, the younger son gathered all together. It might have been the most sublime and hallowed enterprise in the world. The rapidity of his movements must not be attributed exclusively to the impetuosity of youth, but to the precipitancy of all sinful passion.
5. Remark, finally, here, the presence of God is unfriendly to sin. And took his journey into a far country. Banishment from home would have been accounted a great hardship, if it had been enjoined as a duty. The toils and perils of the road would have occasioned no little murmuring, if his hard travail had contemplated any other end than selfenjoyment. He is eager to swallow his indulgences, and equally anxious to be beyond his fathers eye and all the restraints of home. Let me alone is the impatient cry of sin to all remonstrance. A far country is always the coveted paradise of fools.
II. SIN IS RUINOUS IN OPERATION. And there wasted his substance in riotous living.
III. SIN IS EVER MULTIPLYING ITS DESTRUCTIVE ISSUES. There is no standing still in good or evil. The wheels of human progress never rest on their axles.
1. Instead of attaining to happiness, he is overtaken by poverty.
2. Now Providence fights against him. Nature is in the universal league against transgression.
3. He is already feeling the pinch of wrong-doing. And he began to be in want. The fruit of evil deeds is revealing its poison. He finds himself in the grasp of premonitory pangs.
4. Observe next, that the old principle is to be worked in new ways. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country. You see that he has not become a citizen himself. He is still a stranger. He cannot absolutely settle down out there. No. A man cannot find entire satisfaction in a life of self-enjoyment without God. With nothing but worldly things he cannot attain to rest.
5. He now sinks to a lower level of degradation. A swine-herd!
6. Take notice, further, that the swine-herd is prepared to accept his shame. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks which the swine did eat. Ever since he left his fathers house his inclinations have descended lower and lower. He tried to fill, to satisfy himself with them, but he could not. They merely stayed his hunger. There was a bitterness in their flavour which something in his palate nauseated. The pleasure of eating was gone. The food of a beast cannot satisfy the soul of a man.
7. Last of all, his schemes of felicity and methods of relief are all overturned together. And no man gave unto him. It does not mean, that no man gave him swines food. The swine-herd had the care of the husks, and ate plenty of them, but he could not enjoy them. No man gave unto him what could satisfy and bless a human soul. Man is the highest creature in the world; but if you seek your happiness or your deliverance from misery at his hands, you must end in failure. Citizens out in that country, far from God, could not surround a prodigal with the good which a fathers love at home can alone supply. No man gave unto him, because no man had anything to give.
II. LET US WATCH THE SINNER IN HIS REPENTANCE. There are four elements of repentance here requiring analysis.
1. REFLECTION. And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my fathers have bread enough and to spare! Sin creates a sort of moral insanity. While spurred by appetite and in the race after indulgence, the mind is actuated by a species of frenzy. I perish with hunger! There is the memory of a better past in that exclamation. This same recalling of brighter hours bows the spirit into the dust.
This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrows crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.
Bygone years to a sinner, however in his beginning, is a glance up an ascending incline towards sunnier days.
2. RESOLUTION. I will arise and go to my father. He no sooner discerns his hapless state, than he determines to leave it. You are to imagine him prostrate, brooding in indecision or despair. But he will lie no longer in inaction. He protests, I will arise, and he rises.
3. RECOGNITION OF GUILT. His resolution, while unenfeebled by hesitation, was not formed in insensibility to his evil. He sees most distinctly the relation of sin towards God and towards himself.
(1) The relation of sin towards God. I have sinned against heaven. Evil insults the purity and despises the love of God. It destroys His moral order, and spurns the felicity which He offers.
(2) The relation of sin towards himself. And am no more worthy, etc. His sense of ill-desert is real and deep.
4. RETURN TO GOD. His was no empty vow.
III. LET US BEHOLD THE SINNER IN HIS RESTORATION.
1. NOTICE GODS RECOGNITION OF THE EARLIEST BEGINNINGS OF PENITENCE. When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him. He had not seen his father, but his father saw him. Unconsciously to the son, the love of the father has been drawing him all the way. If he had lost the image of his father from his memory, he would never have attempted to return.
2. OBSERVE GODS WELCOME TO THE REPENTING.
(1) The tenderness of God is wonderful, He had compassion. Great reason had God to be angry with that sinful creature, with me, with you; but He had compassion.
(2) How willing God is to succour! His father saw him, and had compassion, and ran to welcome him. Ran,--willingness is too feeble an epithet to denote the impulse. There is eagerness in ran. God is hasting to save and bless.
(3) Pray do not overlook Gods readiness to accept and pardon just as you are. Saw, had compassion, ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.
3. NOW TURN TO BEHOLD HOW GOD LAVISHES HIS AFFECTION ON THE ACCEPTED PENITENT. The father is not going to treat his son as an hired servant. Gods forgiveness must be God-like. Gods love is always greater in experience than in our most sanguine wishes and brightest hopes.
4. LISTEN TO GODS EXHORTATION TO HIS UNIVERSE TO SHARE HIS JOY. Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat and be merry. Merry is an old Saxon word. Its meaning has somewhat narrowed and lowered in our later tongue. Be merry, here, in the original is rejoice. A feast betokens gladness among all nations. The occasion is great, and great is to be the exultation. Let us eat and rejoice. The father does not ask his household to be glad and he himself remain only a spectator of the universal delight. It is, Let us eat and rejoice. It is Gods own joy that He would have His creatures share and proclaim. (Bishop Alexander.)
The prodigal son
I. AN EXHIBITION OF THE CONDITION AND THE CONDUCT OF MAN IN HIS NATURAL AND SINFUL STATE.
1. Absence of gratitude, or any sense of obligation to his father.
2. Impatience of his fathers government.
3. Breaking away from his fathers control.
4. Squandering his fathers property contrary to his fathers intention.
5. But his schemes all failed to make him happy.
II. WHEN MEN BEGIN TO FEEL THEIR WANT, THEY TAKE ERRONEOUS COURSES TO DELIVER THEMSELVES. One flies to his worldly companions; another to scepticism; another to business; another to pleasure; another to some external reformation; another determines to read his Bible a little more, and to pray a little more--not meaning by prayer his heart really coming back to God, but the utterance of some words and going more frequently on his knees. That is not prayer. Prayer is the child coming back to his Father; prayer is the heart meeting God; prayer is the heart delighting in God, pouring out its desires into the bosom of infinite Love, and feeling that God is there. You must get back to God through the mediation, the merit, and the sacrifice of the Lord our Righteousness and our Redeemer. All other refuges will fail: all other processes will fail: you may have convictions, and then you may do this, that, or the other that I have described; still you are in want. Husks, husks, husks are all you have received by staying away from your Fathers house.
III. THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE AND SUBMISSION--the way to get home to our Father. The young man is said to have come to himself: that means that he was beside himself before. Hence you find that the Word of God denominates sinners fools: and because they are practically so foolish, they would rather remain undisturbed in their sins for a few days, than go through the bitterness of repentance and the self-denial of religion now, that they may wear an eternal crown, and live in immortal peace. There is another proof of the derangement of the human heart. It is the feeling which men have, that they can be happy away from God, and that they know more about the secret of happiness than the God who made them. So repentance is turning to our right mind. Repentance is beginning to look at things aright--beginning to reason, and feel, and purpose, and act aright. The young man determines to come home, to confess his sin without any palliation. The willingness to humble ourselves, that is coming home. Look for a moment at this young man, and see how difficult it was for him to come home, and how impossible it would have been, if he had not humbled his pride. In the first place he had to go back in his rags. There is not a child in the village but will see me; and they will say, That is the young man who went out in such splendid style; and they will point the finger at me and mock me: and yet says be, I will arise and go.
IV. GODS RECEPTION OF THE RETURNING SINNER. (E. N. Kirk.)
The efficacy and joy of repentance
I. THE PARABLE. It can stand the two tests which Byron declared to be decisive upon the merit of literary creations. It pleases immediately, and it pleases permanently. The rose needs no essay to prove that it is a rose. This is fragrant with the breath of Christ, and coloured with the summer of His touch.
1. The prodigals sin.
(1) In its origin it is selfishness.
(2) In its progress it is dissipation.
(3) In its result, sin is famine and degradation: in action, the life of the stye, which is sensuality; in thought, the system of the stye, which is materialism. One of the citizens of that country sends him into the fields to feed swine.
(4) But the essence of his sin is the miserable determination to remove as far as possible from his fathers presence.
2. The prodigals repentance. He came to Himself. He had been outside his true self before. When a man finds himself, he finds God.
3. The reception of the lost son. For every step the sinner takes towards God, God takes ten towards him. We will not dwell upon the particulars of that great reception. Enough to mention the first stole; the ring of honour; the shoes forbidden to slaves; the sacrificial feast; the fathers voice passing into the chant of a wondrous liturgy; and seen and heard across the darkening fields by the elder brother as he unwillingly faces homeward the long line of festal light, the symphony of instruments, and the choirs of dancers.
II. CHARACTERISTICS OF REPENTANCE.
1. Its efficacy. Not in the nature of things; not inherent in it. The sinner is in an awful land, where every rock is literally a rock of ages; where the facts which some men call spiritual are bound by a fatal succession quite as much as the facts which all men call material; where God is frozen into an icicle, and no tender touch of miracle can come from His law-stiffened fingers; where two and two always make four, and your sin always finds you out. To remove this impotence and inefficacy of repentance, Jesus lived and died. Repentance is His indulgence, flung down from the balcony by our great High Priest. Repentance is His gift; the efficacy of repentance is His secret.
2. Its joy.
(1) There are two considerations which have always been urged by masters of the spiritual life.
(a) To judge the inner life only by the joy of which it is conscious is a sort of spiritual epicureanism. The tears of penitents are the wine of angels; but they were not intended to intoxicate those who shed them.
(b) Past sin, even when its guilt is pardoned, has penal consequences upon the inner life. It continues in the memory with its poisoned springs and in the imagination with its perilous susceptibilities.
(2) Yet they know not the mind of God to whom penitence is only bitter. There are
Tears that sweeter far
Than the worlds mad laughter are.
There is a triumphant, a victorious delight, which leads the will along the narrow way, and will not be gainsaid. It is a mutilated Miserere which omits the verse Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the hones which Thou hast broken may rejoice. By one of those apparent contradictions which lies at the root of the Christian life, a perpetual yearning after pardon is consistent with a perpetual serenity of hope. God would mould His penitents that they may combine sorrow with joy; that they may hear at once a sigh in the depths of their souls, and a music far away. There must be in the renewed nature something of the iron that has been moulded in His furnace, and something of the rose which has been expanded in His sunshine. The life of Frederick the Great, by a writer of transcendent genius, contains incidentally a record of the death of an English general defeated in Canada. Twice only did the unhappy officer rouse himself out of the mortal stupor into which he fell from a broken heart. Once he sighed heavily--Who would have thought it? Many days after he said with more animation--Another time we will do better. And then the cataracts of soft, sweet sleep rushed down upon the weary man. Do not these two sentences give us this view of the twofold aspect of repentance?--the first, the humiliation of the beaten soldier as he comes to himself;the second, his hope through Christ as he catches the music of the march of victory. (Bishop Wm. Alexander.)
The pearl of parables
I. WE SHALL NEED TO GROUP TOGETHER AT THE OUTSET THE PARTICULARS WHICH SHOW THIS YOUNG MANS ALIENATED CONDITION AT THE MOMENT WHEN THE STORY GIVES HIM INTRODUCTION. (see Luk_15:11-12).
1. He was estranged from all love for his father. His affections had been soured and turned before he made this abrupt demand. He addressed his father as to a division of his estate in a cool, technical way.
2. He was away from his home (see Luk_15:13). His fathers residence which he had left is pictured in the parable, with the family life in it, by two or three strokes of a master hand. Even the servants had enough and to spare. Feasts were not unknown. Music and dancing were part of the entertainment. But it is plain that the old father meant to be master there; and that was precisely the condition of life this impulsive youth resolved to escape.
3. He had fallen into poverty (see Luk_15:14). Removed from influences which had hitherto kept him in check, he began the career of a profligate and debauchee. A little time spent in this voluptuous folly sufficed to run through his fortune.
4. At last he sank to the lowest, and became a servant. He went and offered himself to a master. The citizen of that country put him at the very worst business he had for any menial to do.
5. At this moment the young man was actually hungering in the presence of his beasts (see Luk_15:16). So far from having the right to despise the lowly creatures of his charge, the prodigal began the rather to envy them. The picture must be turned now to show just how it illustrates the condition of a sinner alienated from his Father in heaven. His own pride of heart lies at the bottom of his departure; he wants to be master of himself. Gathering together all his resources of time, talent, energy--all his powers of mind and body--he rushes away into the world of dissipation and lust. Now he goes to the devil directly and hires himself out, and Satan accepts him at his own valuation, and puts him among the swine.
II. LET US NOW SEEK FOR THE PARTICULARS WHICH DISPLAY THIS PRODIGALS ENTIRE CHANGE IN PURPOSE AND FEELING BY WHICH HE WAS AT LAST LED BACK TO HIS HOME IN PENITENCE AND PEACE. (see Luk_15:17).
1. First of all, he began to think I thought upon my ways and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies. The expression here is as singular as it is strong--When he came to himself. A sort of madness was in his heart. He seeswhere he is, and what he is, and what he has so long been doing.
2. Then he began to remember. That is Scripture counsel for us in these later times--Remember from whence thou art fallen. The prodigal recollected the kindness of his home in the days gone by.
3. Then he began to regret. His grief over the wickedness of his career is shown by the softness and gentleness of his forms of meditation. We discover no demonstrations of spite.
4. Then he began to hate. Abruptly, but for ever, he throws up his engagement with his cruel master. He renounces absolutely all the associations of his life in this far country.
5. Then he began to resolve (see Luk_15:18-19). So critical is this as a point in his experience, that we must analyze it step by step to the end.
(1) He resolved he would arise. If he was actually bent on making a change, he must be up on the instant and out of this. Nothing could be gained by delay.
(2) He resolved he would go to his father. To whom else could he go? Drudgery was here, freedom was yonder. Shame was here, honour was yonder. Slavery was here, duty was yonder. Starving was here plenty and to spare were yonder.
(3) He resolved to speak to his father. Observe, in this little speech he says over and over again to himself there is not one word about food or raiment, or future fortune. He is going to get the awful past right before he begins on anything else. He decides that he will confess before he begins to plead; what he wants is pardon.
(4) He resolved to be obedient to his father. Unworthy of sonship, he will ask for a servants place. Indeed, now he has come to see that the lowest position in his fathers house is higher than the highest he ever discovered in all these reckless, wicked days since he left it. Here, again, we must pause to turn the story, so as to see in all plainness how it illustrates the process of mind and behaviour through which a contrite sinner returns to his Father in heaven in the hour of his resolve. These steps are all homeward steps.
III. There remains for our study now only one more grouping of particulars which show THIS PRODIGALS RECEPTION WHEN AT THE LAST HE ARRIVED IN HIS OWN COUNTRY, AND CAME TO HIS FATHERS HOUSE.
1. He carried out his purpose of arising and going to his father (see Luk_15:20). It would have done no good just to resolve and then sit still there among the swine.
2. He carried out his purpose of confessing his sin to his father (see Luk_15:21). Perhaps he had been fainting with hunger; but hope would tell him of comfort by and by. Perhaps he would meet a train of travellers, who would laugh at his sorry look and condition; but he would think of help coming before long. Perhaps his heart wholly sank at the moment when from the last hill he saw his home; but he would be sure to fall back on his sure faith in his fathers affection.
3. He carried out his purpose of full obedience of his father. To be sure, not a word was said about his being a servant any more. He was a sou now, and all the old honour had come with the robe and the ring. But the unspoken resolve still remained in his heart (see Heb_5:8). (C. S.Robinson, D. D.)
The prodigal son
I. THE SONS FORTUNE, AND HIS WAY OF SPENDING IT. What, then, was his fortune? Man is gifted with health, by which he is able to enjoy life--strength, to provide for its necessities--faculties (such as common sense, reason, the understanding), to guide him to God as his true happiness--affections, to endear him to others, and others to him. Appetites of various and valuable sorts. The appetite of eating and drinking, which affords legitimate pleasure and real advantage when moderately indulged; the appetite for seeing, which opens a door to much useful discovery and delight, which enables us to admire on every hand the infinite wisdom, power, and goodness of our Creator and our God; the appetite for hearing, by which Divine knowledge gets admittance into the soul, by which the agreeable converse of our friends, and the delightful strains of heavenly melody, may be enjoyed and indulged in. These, and many others are precious items in the portion which God bountifully bestows upon His children. They should be enjoyed at His discretion, according to His command, and for His glory. Not so, however, the sinner. Like the prodigal, he gathers his riches, and takes his journey into a far country--that is to say, he wanders far from God and heaven. The prodigal becomes a worldling; he carries his portion into the unregenerate world, and there wastes his substance in riotous living. His gifts are debauched and misused; they are all made the servants of sin. Hunger eaters to gluttony; thirst to drunkenness; the eye administers to lust; it reads wicked looks, delights in wanton shows, in pomp, and vanity, and folly. The ear drinks in blasphemy, irreligion, and indecency. The heart is made the residence of evil affections; the head and understanding, of wicked, ungodly, infidel principles. The summer of life is spent in bringing to maturity the seeds of evil which were scattered in its spring--the autumn, in the neglect of what is good, and in the ingathering of what is bad, the poisoned fruits of a debauched manhood. The winter of life comes on, and in its train sharp disease, racking pains--a bloated, enfeebled, disordered carcase--a foolish head, an unregenerate heart, a guilty conscience. There is now no more capacity for enjoying pleasure; the sight is gone, the hearing lost, the appetite vanished, the strength decayed, the health squandered, the affections debased, the faculties degraded--the whole substance wasted in riotous living.
II. HIS DESTITUTION AND REPENTANCE. And when he had spent all there began to be a mighty famine in that land. So it is with sinners. They derive their pleasure from sensual enjoyments--the indulgences of the flesh; but, when they spend their strength, there is an end of these indulgences. The eye refuses to see, the ear to hear, the members to stir, in obedience to the miserable slave of sin. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat. It is among the miseries of sinners that the appetite for wicked indulgence increases as the capacity for gratifying it decays. The longer the heart has been exercised in iniquity, the deeper will be the corruption with which it is tainted. And no man gave unto him. Be assured, sinner, this is a true picture of the world. While you can treat them--while you have anything that they can devour, they will praise andflatter you; but, when your substance is gone, you will find it true that no man will give unto you--none of your sinful companions. They have their own devouring lusts, their filthy lusts, to gratify. Do you think that they will deny themselves for your necessities? And when he came to himself--mark the expression, as though he had been in a fit of madness. It isthus the sinner is here spoken of; yea, and elsewhere the Holy Ghost says, Madness is in their hearts while they live. I will arise, etc. Here, then, were no excuses, no palliations--no saying others were in fault, I was led astray, I have not been as bad as some--no promises of great things for the future--no saying, I will devote myself to thy service, I will fight thy battles, I will do wonders for thy cause; but a simple declaration of guilt and wretchedness: I have sinned, I am unworthy; I do not deserve the character of thy son; make me as one of thy servants; regard me as one of them. He resolves to plead, not his merit, but his misery, and he puts his resolve into execution. For--
III. HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER. He arose and came: it is important that you should mark this--he did not rest content with mere resolutions of repentance. He did not say, I will arise and return, and all the while stay where he was, desiring still to feed on husks. This too many do. And while he was yet a great way off, etc. Oh, the melting tenderness of our God and Saviour! He watches the very first movements towards repentance. (T. D. Gregg, M. A.)
The reformed prodigal
I. LET US INQUIRE WHO THE YOUNGER SON IS INTENDED TO REPRESENT. The parable is addressed to the scribes and Pharisees; but there was nothing in their character which resembled what is ascribed to the younger son, or that could admit a comparison with him. But, as we are told, it was delivered in the presence of publicans and sinners, who had assembled in crowds to hear Jesus, it cannot be doubted that it was that class who are portrayed by the younger son. The publicans and sinners are never represented in the Gospels as influenced by the religious opinions which prevailed among the Jews, but rather as led by their feelings; just as the younger son is exhibited in the parable. They are, however, drawn as more easily instructed, and more susceptible of repentance and reformation.
II. LET US NEXT POINT OUT WHAT USEFUL INSTRUCTION WE MAY DERIVE FROM THE CONDUCT OF THE YOUNGER BROTHER.
1. We see that extravagance and licentiousness are usually followed by want. Whoever, then, practices these vices, cannot plead ignorance of their natural and unavoidable consequences. Nor do evil effects belong to these vices alone; for every other vice has its peculiar evil consequences which accompany its train, as uniformly as a shadow goes along with a moving substance when the sun shines. Thus, even truth from the mouth of a known liar is usually received with incredulity, and always with suspicion. Pride is incessantly exposed to imaginary affronts and real mortifications, which cause to the unhappy victim many agonizing moments. The vain man is miserable when he is doomed to negligence and contempt, instead of receiving the coveted and expected praise. The gratification of revenge, in reality, consists of the pains of the rack.
2. As the evil consequences of sin are thus so evident to all, we ought to be convinced that this knowledge was intended to lead us to amendment. Such, indeed, is represented as the effect produced on the young man in the parable. His sufferings occasioned not only that repentance which consists in strong feelings, but that reformation which consists in a change of conduct. This is exhibited as genuine and sincere; it was speedy, nor was it partial but universal.
III. OUR ATTENTION IS NEXT CALLED TO THE ELDER BROTHER. We have concluded that the younger brother was designed to represent the publicans and sinners. Nor can we have any doubt that, under the similitude of the elder brother, the scribes and Pharisees are intended. It is true the character given of the elder brother is good--that he had served his father many years, and never transgressed his commands. But we must not overlook the circumstance that this favourable character is given by himself, while his conduct exhibits an opposite picture, bearing a close resemblance to the scribes and Pharisees; for they deemed themselves not only faultless but meritorious, as they are represented by the Pharisee in the parable, who thanked God for his superiority to others, and plumed himself because he fasted twice in the week, and gave tithes of all his possessions. Like the great body of the Pharisees, the elder brother is selfish and indifferent about others. He is angry at the fond reception given to his penitent brother, envious of the marks of favour conferred on him, and mortified at the supposed preference to himself by his noble-minded father. Had he possessed any natural affection he would have cordially testified his delight at the return of his long-lost brother. Had he felt as he ought to have done, he would have learned that his own happiness was highly enhanced; for there is no joy so elevated and refined as that which a good man feels at the return of a son, or a brother, or a friend, to God and duty.
IV. Lastly, THE CONDUCT OF THE FATHER IN THE PARABLE IS EVIDENTLY INTENDED TO REPRESENT THE GOODNESS OF OUR ALMIGHTY FATHER. (J. Thomson, D. D.)
The prodigal son
1. This young man was laying his life-plans, and his first idea was to get away from his father.
2. Freedom from restraint leads to recklessness.
3. Recklessness leads to want.
4. Want leads to recollection.
5. Recollection leads to repentance.
6. Repentance leads to reformation.
7. Reformation leads to restoration.
8. Restoration leads to rejoicing.
9. Rejoicing over the returning prodigal is well; but the conduct and character of the elder brother are immeasurably better. (T. Kelly.)
The parable of the prodigal son
I. SELF-WILL LEADS TO PRODIGALITY.
II. PRODIGALITY LEADS TO WANT.
III. WANT AWAKENS MEMORY.
IV. AWAKENED MEMORY LEADS TO REPENTANCE AND RETURN. (Geo. Gerrard.)
The prodigal
Let us regard it as giving a picture of man--
I. IN THE DIGNITY OF HIS ORIGIN. This young man was the son of a father who could bestow on him a large fortune, and surround his life with comfort and splendour. He was born to dignity. The destitution and misery to which he had reduced himself was not his natural heritage. We are also His offspring.
II. IN HIS DESIRE FOR INDEPENDENCE. All sins may be regarded as the unfolding of this single sin of selfishness. Hence the necessity that we should enter the Kingdom of God, where He asserts and maintains His dominion over us.
III. IN THE LIBERTY ALLOWED HIM, WITH THE RISK OF ITS ABUSE. When a man feels that the service of God is not perfect freedom, that he can better himself in some condition of his own seeking, God allows him to make the trial. The foolish experiment discovers at length to him that he is not really free by throwing off his former yoke. He has but exchanged it for a far heavier one.
1. We learn from this that the apostasy of the heart begins before the apostasy of the life.
2. Man abuses the liberty allowed him, and abandons himself to the dreadful possibilities of sin. Liberty is indeed a noble endowment, yet it is terrible to have the power to ruin ourselves. We can gain nothing by contending with our Maker.
IV. IN THE MANNER OF HIS SPIRITUAL RECOVERY. This recovery is possible. Such is the glad sound of the gospel. Let us trace the steps by which the prodigal gained the favour he had forfeited.
1. He was made to feel his utmost need.
2. His reformation commenced in thought.
3. He was sensible of the honour he had rejected.
4. He resolves to cast himself upon the mercy of his father.
5. He frames the design of his confession. Sin is acknowledged in its root--before Thee.
6. Still remaining as a son, he desired to be reckoned a servant.
V. IN THE MERCIFUL KINDNESS WITH WHICH HEAVEN FORGIVES THE EVIL OF HIS LIFE. God draws nigh unto those who draw nigh unto Him. When the face is turned towards God, the long journey is relieved by the arrival of mercy before we have trodden every weary step.
1. The penitent is raised to a position of honour.
2. There was sympathy awakened for him in the fathers household.
3. The joy was suited to the time--it was meet. But this intensity of joy could not, in the nature of things, long continue. He, too, must shortly settle down to the sober tasks of duty. The excitement of a great crisis must not be the permanent condition of the soul, or her energies would be consumed at too high a rate; and, instead of the glow of health, there would be the burning of a fever. Excessive joy must subside into the patience of faith, and the labour of love. (The Lay Preacher.)
The parable of the prodigal son
I. THE PRODIGAL SON LEAVES HIS FATHERS HOUSE.
1. Why did he leave?
(1) Youth is the time of imaginations. The prodigal son promised to himself a joyful life outside of his fathers house.
(2) Youth is desirous of sensual pleasures.
(3) Youth desires to be independent, and will not obey.
2. How did he leave?
(1) The ungrateful demand.
(2) The going astray.
II. THE PRODIGAL SON IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY.
1. He wastes his substance.
2. He begins to be in want. Poverty is the condition of the soul that seeks happiness in the world. By losing his God, the sinner loses everything.
3. His degradation. He who would not perform the daily work in the house of his father, is now obliged to labour as a hired servant.
4. He envies the brute beasts.
III. HIS RETURN AND RECEPTION.
1. The causes of his return.
(1) It was caused by his misery. The famine calls him back whom satiety had led away. God visits with grace him whom He visits with affliction.
(2) Forsaken by all the world, he returned to himself. The first condition of conversion is knowledge of ones self, and the knowledge of the condition of our soul.
(3) He saw the misery of his condition.
2. The steps he takes in order to return.
(1) He makes a firm resolution, not deferring his return to a later time, nor being deterred by difficulties.
(2) He still remembers the kindness of his father.
(3) He acknowledges the enormity of his sin.
3. His reception. (Repertorium Oratoris Sacri.)
The prodigal son
Look at the prodigal son--
I. IN HIS ORIGINAL CIRCUMSTANCES OF HONOUR AND HAPPINESS. Upright. Innocent. Happy. God his Father. Eden his home. The earth his domain. Angels his companions. All that Divine wisdom and love could provide, he possessed. An ample portion was his inheritance.
II. IN THE ARROGANCE OF HIS PRESUMPTUOUS CLAIM. What did he really want.? Where could he be more dignified or happy? But he seeks to have his portion to himself. He desires to do with it as he pleases. He seeks to throw off parental restraints and control.
III. IN HIS DISSIPATED WANDERINGS.
1. This wandering is very gradual and insidious.
2. Increasingly rapid.
3. Awfully dangerous.
IV. IN HIS WRETCHEDNESS AND MISERY. Profligacy is followed by want; extravagance by misery.
V. IN HIS UNALLEVIATED DISTRESS. (J. Burns, D. D.)
The prodigals return
I. REASON RESUMES HER DOMINION.
II. THE RESOLUTION HE ADOPTS.
1. He determines on an immediate return to his forsaken home.
2. He resolves freely to confess his sins.
3. He resolves to be content with any place in his fathers dwelling.
III. THE COURSE WHICH HE PROMPTLY CARRIES OUT.
1. Immediately; without delay.
2. And he perseveres in his homeward course. (J. Burns, D. D.)
The sequel
I. THE HAPPY MEETING.
II. THE HEARTY RECEPTION.
III. THE DISTINGUISHED BANQUET.
IV. THE COLD-HEARTED ENVY OF THE ELDER BROTHER. Lessons:
1. How generous and pure is the benevolence of the gospel. It is of God, and from Him, and resembles His tender and infinite love.
2. How hateful is an envious self-righteous spirit. It is the sprit of the evil one, and therefore from beneath.
3. Happy they who have repented of sin, and who have been received into the Saviours family of love. (J. Burns, D. D.)
The prodigal son
I. THE PRODIGALS DEPARTURE. He disliked all parental restraint. He broke the principle involved in the first commandment with promise. In his fathers house vice was out of place. He made the world his servant, little thinking how soon he should be under its most cruel tyranny. He was sadly deceived. We must never forget that all wasting of our gifts is a sin. Man is made for a noble purpose; his duties touch eternity, and are given for use in time. Shall we, for even a moment, dare assume that it is no concern of ours how we employ our powers?
II. THE PRODIGALS DESPAIR. His situation is portrayed by the one graphic description of Christ: There arose a mighty famine in that land. We are pointed to the darkest word in human history, precursor of the pestilence and death. It tells of the stony bed where the brook once ran. It tells of the fruitless trees, with branches prematurely stripped of their foliage. It tells of the grass of summer all burned away. His property was all wasted, and despair was settling down upon his soul. His life was a failure in such a land; his riotous living was beginning its curse. No want of the human heart, good or bad, is ever satisfied here. Even the disciples anticipation is of a time when he shall awake in Christs likeness. Just so, the nobler desires turned earthward are more insatiate still. Epicure was never satisfied. The sustenance of vicious desires only awakens new ones. The drunkard drinks deeper week by week, his thirst deepened with every draught of the mocking cup. The misers lust burns fiercer as the gold in his chest becomes heavier.
III. THE PRODIGALS RESOLUTION. We are told of an English soldier, wounded and faint, left by the retreating army to die. Helpless and motionless he lay, expecting his death, screened from the burning sun by an overhanging cliff. While his strength was ebbing fast there alighted just before his face a greedy, ravenous bird, waiting for the end to come. Thoughts of himself becoming the prey of that loathsome bird gave him a now energy, and he slowly arose and at last was saved. In almost a like helpless state the prodigal came to himself. Two thoughts convinced him of his insane course--the abjectness of his misery, perishing with hunger; and the remembrance of the joys in the fathers house. It was thus the dissolute John Newton became himself again. But for a like critical resolve John Bunyan would ever have remained the same worthless profligate as in his youth. A moral coward may face the cannons mouth, but only a hero will turn from his sin. There is a splendour in such a moral conflict. Caesars political fats depended upon his passing the Rubicon; and yet the same resolution is demanded in the ease of every sinner.
IV. THE PRODIGALS WELCOME. Words are powerless in declaring the richness of such a reception. The prodigal loved his father because his father had first loved him. Day after day the hired servants had asked in vain, When will his love grow less? But it never ceased. (D. O. Mears.)
The prodigal son
I. THE SPIRIT OF THE SON AT THE BEGINNING. His underlying aim is to look out for himself. He wanted his fathers goods, but not his presence. This is the germ of sin--an independent, proud, unloving spirit toward God.
II. THE DEPARTURE. Not many days after he found that he could be independent, he started off on his journey. He who does not pray and obey God, rapidly withdraws from Him. God is not in his thoughts, and therefore he soon ceases to appreciate the character which God loves. The true generosity, which is love to men for their good, is lost. He loves men for what they are worth to please himself. Reverence is lost. The courage of gentleness is lost. Abhorrence of wickedness is lost. He sees wit in the rejection of Divine authority, courage in anger, manliness in vice.
III. THE LIFE OF UNHALLOWED PLEASURE. He chose the company that fitted his spirit. He sought others for what he could get out of them; they sought him for what they could get out of him. He had plenty of company as long as he had substance to waste on them. What he spent on them was wasted. What they gave him was wasted. The whole traffic was utter loss on both sides. They had not only outward possessions, but a wealth of intellect, affection, beauty, genius. They wasted it all. This the seeker for self and not God always does. He uses his talents to cover up his real aims and passions. Art has been made the handmaid of Sin. Music is called in to adorn the hideous nakedness of vice.
IV. THE COLLAPSE. The famine began when he had used up all he had. When all is gone, Nature herself turns against the prodigal. The world is a desert to a sinner who has run through the gifts of God, and he is absolutely certain to run them through in a little while. Alas for him when his own treasures are squandered, and the famine smites the far country! His one friend he has east off to win the admiration of the friends he had chosen; and they have cast him off as soon as his goods are gone.
V. THE NEW BUSINESS. No extreme of degradation could be greater than this to the mind of the Jew. He became the servant of a foreigner, whom the Jew despised. He tended swine, which were hateful to the Jew. He was hungry for the food which the swine fed on, and couldnt get it. Yet even this degradation was his own choice.
VI. THE AWAKENING. He came to himself. Awakening to his wretchedness, he remembers one friend. Oh, if God were not a friend, the prodigal would sink into despair and hell when he comes to himself. He sees now where he is, that he has brought himself into this poverty. Many call God cruel after they have wasted the abundance of gifts from him. They have received all they ask for, have made no acknowledgment, have wasted all, and then, finding themselves wretched, they say that God has done it. But not so this prodigal. He said, I have sinned.
VII. THE RESOLVE. He is awakened to a hope of pardon and gracious reception. But this does not hinder the full confession of his sin. He accepts the deepest humiliation. He seeks now not to maintain his pride, but to confess the truth.
VIII. THE RETURN. He acted at once. Honest repentance always does. Resolves postponed are lies. Men befool themselves with them. He did not wait to cleanse himself and get a more becoming dress. He was not earning enough to keep himself alive, far less could he save enough to better his appearance. Besides, there was nothing in the far country which money could buy that would make him in the least degree presentable at home. The gay and costly attire which he wore when he was spending his living with harlots was as repulsive to his father as his rags. He was not to become better in order that he might go to his father, but he was to go to his father in order that he might be made better. Yet he went back, not to claim anything. His father had given him once all he had asked for, and he had taken it as if it had belonged to him, had wasted it, and ruined himself by it. He went back to make confession.
IX. THE MEETING. He was yet a great way off when the father saw him. Love is quicker than youth, loftier than pride, mightier than Satan. The love of God is compassion. It suffers with the penitent. It would even spare the recital of the sad history. (A. E. Dunning.)
The prodigal son
Six touching scenes.
I. A SINFUL LIFE.
1. A young man chafing under the restraints of home. This chafing arose--
(1)From a false view of true liberty.
(2) From a false view of true happiness.
(3) From a false view of self-guidance.
2. A young man demanding his portion of the inheritance. This demand arose--
(1) From a desire to be independent of his father.
(2) From a desire to lay out his life and means according to his own plan.
3. The young man receiving the portion which befell him.
(1) The father recognized his sons free agency.
(2) The father saw that his sons heart was already estranged from him.
(3) The father felt that the bitter experiences of life alone, if anything, would undeceive his self-deluded and wilful son.
II. THE DEPARTURE FROM HOME.
1. The departure was not long delayed.
2. The young man took all he could claim.
III. HIS MODE OF LIFE WHEN ONCE RELEASED FROM THE RESTRAINTS OF HOME.
1. His life riotous.
2. His substance wasted.
IV. THE RESULT OF HIS SELF-ELECTED LIFE.
1. Famine.
2. Want.
3. Degrading service.
4. Hunger.
V. THE REACTION.
1. Situation realized.
2. Reflection commenced.
3. Decision resolved on.
4. A plea constructed.
5. Decision executed.
VI. THE FATHERS LOVE.
1. Loves long range of vision.
2. Loves tenderness.
3. Loves generosity.
4. Loves joy.
Lessons:
1. The infinite contrast--mans selfishness and Gods love.
2. The infinite folly--man breaking away from God.
3. The infinite grace--God embracing, forgiving, and honouring the returning prodigal. (D. G. Hughes, M. A.)
The prodigal son
I. THE PRODIGALS SIN.
1. Discontent.
2. Departure.
3. Wilful waste.
II. HIS DESTITUTION.
1. Extreme poverty.
2. Deep degradation.
3. Woful want.
III. HIS REPENTANCE.
1. Awakening.
2. Penitence.
3. Resolution.
IV. HIS RESTORATION.
1. Return.
2. Confession.
3. Welcome. Applications:
1. Too many imitate the prodigal in his sin, but not in his repentance.
2. The Father is ever ready to meet and receive, with a kiss of affection, the returning prodigal.
3. God is exalted to have mercy. There is grace for the chief of sinners. Whosoever will, may return. Come home, prodigal! (L. O. Thompson.)
The prodigal
I. WILFUL.
II. WANDERING.
III. WASTEFUL.
IV. WANTING.
V. WRETCHED.
VI. WALKING HOME AGAIN.
VII. WELCOME. (J. Sanderson, D. D.)
The prodigals wandering, return, and reception
I. A SINNERS AVERSION AND ALIENATION FROM GOD.
1. A sinful state is a state of departure from God.
2. An extravagant or spendthrift.
3. A wretched or destitute state.
4. A servile and slavish state.
5. A state of perpetual dissatisfaction.
6. A state of deadness or death.
II. THE SINNERS RETURN TO GOD, AND THE MANNER THEREOF. The first demonstration of his return is--
1. Consideration of his fathers kindness.
2. By comparison, he saw his misery.
3. The view he got of the superiority of his fathers house.
4. Determination.
5. Confession.
6. Self-condemnation.
7. Humble submission.
8. Filial confidence.
9. His obedience.
III. THE SINNERS APPREHENSIVE RECEPTION.
1. The fathers affection to his returning child.
2. Eyes of mercy: he saw him as from a mountain.
3. Bowels of mercy: he feels compassion.
4. Feet of mercy: he ran, while his son came only.
5. Arms of mercy: he fell on his neck.
6. Lips of mercy: he kissed him.
The provision presented.
1. He came in rags. He put the best robe upon him, a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet (see also Isa_61:10).
2. He came hungry. Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry (see also Joh_6:54).
3. Great joy. Let us be merry (see Luk_15:10); Let them also that love thy name, be joyful in Thee (Psa_5:11).
4. The conduct of the elder brother (25-30) serves as a reproof to the Pharisees, who were displeased at the conversion of the Gentiles. (T.B. Baker.)
Parable of the prodigal son
I. Sinners regard God no farther than to gain from Him whatever they can.
II. Sinners waste the blessings which they receive from His hands, and reduce themselves to absolute want.
III. Afflictions are very often the first means of bringing them to a sense of their condition.
IV. When they first acquire this sense they usually betake themselves to false measures for relief.
V. This situation of a sinner is eminently unhappy.
VI. The repentance of the gospel is the resumption of a right mind. Among the things which the sinner realizes, when he first comes to himself, are the following.
1. His own miserable condition.
2. That in the house of his heavenly Father there is an abundance of good.
3. A hope that this good may be his. I shall now proceed in the consideration of the progress of a sinner towards his final acceptance with God as it is exhibited in the text. With this design, I observe--
I. True repentance is a voluntary exercise of the mind.
II. True repentance is a filial temper, disposing us to regard God as our parent, and ourselves as His children.
III. True repentance is followed, of course, by a confession of sin.
IV. A real penitent feels that all his sins are committed against God.
V. A real penitent is, of course, humble.
VI. A real penitent brings nothing to God, but his want, shame, and sorrow.
VII. A true penitent executes his resolutions of obedience.
VIII. God is entirely disposed to receive the sincere penitent.
IX. The richest provision is made for the enjoyment of the sincere penitent.
X. There is a peculiar joy in heaven over the repentance of returning sinners. (T. Dwight, D. D.)
Bitterness of prodigal sin
I. THE PRODIGALS SIN. Dissatisfaction. Alienation. Estrangement.
II. THE PRODIGALS MISERY. Sooner or later every sinner must be taught that to be estranged from God is to be estranged from happiness.
III. THE PRODIGALS REPENTANCE AND RETURN.
1. Sanity returns.
2. Comparison of the present with the past.
3. Resolution to return. His condition has conquered his pride.
4. Confession.
5. Action.
IV. THE RETURNING PRODIGALS RECEPTION.
1. The Fathers advance.
2. Acknowledgment of sin and unworthiness.
3. Honour and dignity.
4. Festivity and rejoicing. (J. H. Thomson, M. A.)
Sin and its consequences
I. THE PRODIGALS SIN.
1. Alienation of affection. There was the root of his rebellion. His heart had wandered from its early tenderness, and had become warped, by yielding to a sinful lust of freedom, from its filial love. From this alienated heart, in natural sequence, flowed his after disobedience and sin. With the heart thus alienated, you can the more readily explain the prodigals impatience of restraint, hankering after present licence of enjoyment, and departure from the house of his father. All these followed as the natural consequences of estranged affection. A yoke that is felt must always be galling; an enforced servitude stirs up within the man all latent feelings of rebellion. Hence, when the principle of filial love was gone, the restraint of the home became irksome, the desire for independence grew into a passion, and then followed the project of the journey into a far country, and of the uncontrolled rioting in the portion of goods.
II. THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN. It were to defeat our own purpose to affirm that there are no pleasures in sin. The world would never continue in its ways if it reaped no gratification. There is, doubtless, something congenial to the wayward heart in the objects of its fond pursuit, and there is often thrown a blinding charm about the man, beneath whose spell unholy he fancies every Hecate a Ganymede, and dallies with deformity which he mistakes for beauty; but our point is this, that in every course of transgression, in every departure of the human spirit from God, there is debasement in the process, and there is ruin in the inevitable end.
1. Homelessness.
2. Waste and degradation.
3. Abandonment and famine. (W. M. Punshon, LL. D.)
The prodigal son
1. The fact that we are sinners is no reason why we should stay away from our God.
2. We do not require to work some good thing in us before God can love us. The sinner may come to God just as he is, through Jesus Christ. The parable firsts represents man in his departure from God. The son was at home, surrounded with all the comforts of home, and secure in the affection of his father; but he became dissatisfied, and wished to depart and be independent. How like to mans conduct towards his God I There have been vast efforts of learning and of metaphysical skill put forth to account for the origin of evil, but we will find nowhere a better explanation than that furnished by God Himself: God made man upright, but he hath sought out many inventions. When the prodigal had apostatized in heart from his father, he then went and demanded his portion of goods. He is going to set up for himself, and demands his rights. As has been observed, his demand sounds as if he had been consulting his lawyer, and was particularly anxious to put his claim into strictly legal phraseology. The father made no opposition, but let him have his portion of goods. He saw that his heart was gone, and why should he retain his body? God has given to us a portion of goods. It is those things which men possess in common, irrespective of their character. When, however, man takes these gifts and seeks to employ them independent of God, and even against God, he plunges into fearful guilt and misery. What is meant by the prodigal son going into a far country? It is doubtless intended to represent the spiritual distance of the soul from God while in a state of unbelief. Our consciousness of sin makes us dread to think of God, and that dread ripens into absolute enmity--The carnal mind is enmity against God. When in this state of mind men put all thought of God as far away from them as they can. As you have seen a man bow a disagreeable visitor out of his house, so men put God far from them, saying, Depart from us, we desire not a knowledge of Thy ways. Oh! into what a far country has the sinner wandered when he has reached this state! And the longer he continues in it the wider becomes the distance between him and God, till at last he drifts into the dark sea of eternal death. When the prodigal got into the far country we are told that he began to be in want. This was a sad termination to his high prospects of enjoyment. Doubtless he thought that if he could only be once independent, and get away from all parental control, his wants would all be supplied. But now his trouble is only beginning. Lie has reached the far-off land of hope and promise, where all his desires were to be gratified, but he finds instead that there is a mighty famine in that land. Thus end all mens attempts to be happy away from God. And the sooner we become convinced of this the better, that we may no longer fill our souls with disappointment and grief, by seeking happiness where it cannot possibly be found; for except those who have found peace in Christ, the whole race in the scramble after the world may be classed under two heads--those who have been disappointed with the world, and those who are going to be. In this state of famine and distress the prodigal joined himself to a citizen of the country. We would have supposed that his sufferings, his bitter disappointments, his pinching wants, would have sent him home at once. But no--mans last resource is to go to God. When he fails in one worldly project, he turns to another; and as each new plan fails to give him the satisfaction he expected, he concludes that the reason is that he has not yet got enough of the world, and so with new vigour he takes a fresh start. Man thinks that his happiness is to be found without, when it is only to be found within. There can no more be happiness in a foul heart, than there can be ease and comfort in a diseased body. This last change of the prodigal, accordingly, did not mend his condition at all; on the contrary, it sank him into a deeper degradation. At last the prodigal begins to think. He came to himself. Before this he had been acting like one whose wild imagination has broken the bridle of reason, and dashes furiously on to destruction. It was such a display of headlong passion as reminds one of moody madness laughing wild and severer woe. The expressions self-possessed, beside ones self, losing ones self, are all very common and significant, and shadow forth the great truth that mans nature, made by God harmonious and united, has been rent in two. His soul has become a battle-field where two eternities conflict. Conscience pulls one way--passion another. The symptom of man coming to his right mind is when he begins to reflect. In my fathers house there is bread enough and to spare. He thought of one heart that once loved him tenderly, of a loving home that once sheltered him, and as he reflected upon the past and contrasted it with the present, his soul broke down in contrition, and then came the resolve, I will arise and go to my father. A great point is gained when the sinner is led to think of eternal things. Whatever it may be that leads to this, whether it be under the faithful preaching of the word or the afflictions of Providence, if he is only led to reflect upon his lost condition it will surely do him good. No man can honestly and earnestly take up the claims of God upon him and his prospects for eternity, and look them fairly in the face, without being led to feel his need of a Saviour. Sinners rush down to destruction because they will not consider. The prodigal had now come to the resolution of going to his father, but his mind was full of dark misconceptions about that fathers character and his feelings towards him. He knew that his father once loved him; but that he loved him now, that he had loved him all along in his wicked wanderings, was something of which he could form no conception. He knew that he had wasted his all, and that he had therefore no price to bring in his baud with which to purchase his fathers love; but still he felt as if something must be done to turn away the anger which he thought burned in his fathers bosom against him. How hard it is to lead the sinner to think of the gospel as Gods free, full welcome to him to come just as he is and be saved! Oh how little did the prodigal know of the depth of that love he had so long despised and grieved! In the meantime the father sees his long-lost son, while he is yet afar off. The eye of affection is quick to detect its object under any and every disguise, and love is quick in its motions. He runs to meet the long-lost one. Oh, how different is this from what he expected! How all his unbelieving doubts and his misconceptions of his fathers true character are dispelled by the gracious reception he now receives! and how vile his former conduct now appears in the light of his fathers love! The very love that gives him such a hearty reception at the same time produces true repentance on account of the past, and plants in his soul the principle of a true obedience in the future. Sinner, this is a picture of the God with whom you have to do. He has followed you in your wanderings with ten thousand proofs of His love, though you have not heeded them. And even now He loves you still. (J. R. Boyd.)
A moving story
When in England, on one occasion, I heard of a city missionary in London who always was in the habit of reading this scriptural story, if at any time he gained access to the roughs of the metropolis--A certain man had two sons! By this interesting exordium their attention was immediately aroused. On one occasion he was interrupted by the running remarks of an impulsive youth, one of the reckless London thieves, who had evidently never heard the story before. When he read the younger sons request for the portion of goods that fell to him, his astonished hearer interpolated, Cool that--rather cool! When he came to the story of his subsequent degradation and want, Served him right, was the ejaculation. But when he heard the account of the prodigals reception by his father, the impressed and delighted listener exclaimed, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, Oh, what a good old cove!--and even before the missionary had time to explain the parable, that chief of sinners seemed to have applied it in his own mind to the forgiving mercy of God. At the close of the service he waited on the missionary, and preferred to him this strange request: Will you come and read that ere account o the kind old cove to some fellows I know, that would get summat o good from it like me? When the missionary expressed his readiness to go, the only stipulation added was, that he would bring no bobbies (policemen), for the bobbies knew them all. Down in a den in the depths of London that missionary read that parable; and of a truth its Divine Author smiled upon him as he did so, for he recognized that, as of old, publicans and sinners had drawn near to hear him. When Dr. Chalmers first preached the annual missionary sermon in Surrey Chapel, London, Rowland Hill sat in the front of the gallery, all anxiety and expectation; for it was he who had spread his fame in the metropolis, and had persuaded the immense array of ministers to come together to hear the celebrated North-man. Similar was the relation which subsisted between the thief and the missionary in this instance, although otherwise the circumstances were very different. This is the gemman wot has come to read us the story of the bad lad and the kind old cove wet I were telling ye off. Its a regular stunner. Jim, assume the perpendicular, and give the gemman the seat (for there was only one chair, or rather stool, in the dreary apartment). Thus introduced and recommended, the missionary began: A certain man had two sons, etc. As the narrative proceeded, verse by verse, he who had raised the expectations of the company so high, kept exclaiming, Did ye ever hear the like o that? Bill, wasnt I right? Isnt it a regular stunner? But when the reader reached the account of the embrace and the kiss, the marks of approbation from all the auditors, to whom also it was quite new, were so loud that he was compelled to stop. But wait till ye hear what the old fellow did for him! was the last whetting exclamation of his patron. And when they heard of the robe and the ring, and the rejoicing, they all rejoiced together; for they seemed by a kind of Pentecostal intuition to conclude that even so would the God of the Bible treat them. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
The Fatherland
Of all Gods cords the finest, and perhaps the strongest, is the cord of love. Quitting his native chimney, among the canals and grassy fields of Holland, the stork pursues the retiring summer, and soon overtakes it in Nubia or Morocco. There, quite unconscious of the fetter beneath his wing, he revels on the snakes of Taurus or the frogs of Nile: till at last, on a brilliant May morning, there is a sharp tug, and then a long steady pull, and high overhead float the broad pinions, and presently in the streets of Haarlem the boys look up, and shout their welcome, as, with eager haste and noisy outcry, an old acquaintance drops down upon the gable, and, drawn back to the old anchorage by a hawser of a thousand miles, the feathery sails are once more furled. Like instinct over a generations interval brings back the exile to his Highland glen. It matters not that in the soft Bermudas life is luxury; it is of no avail that in this Canadian clearing a rosy household has sprung up and in proud affection clings around him; towards the haunts of his childhood there is a strange deep-hidden yearning which often sends absent looks towards northern stars, and ends at last in the actual pilgrimage. And although by the time of his return he finds that no money can buy back the ancestral abode; although, as he crosses the familiar bill and opens the sunny strath, strange solitude meets him; although when he comes up, the hamlet is roofless and silent, and the bonny beild, the nest of his boyhood, a ruin; although behind the cold hearth rank nettles wave, and from the calm covering the spot where in the mornings of another world he waked up so cosily, young weasels peep forth; although the plane is cut down, or the bourtree, under whose sabbatic shadow his father used at eventide to meditate; although where the vision dissolves a pang must remain, there is no need that he should go back, bleak and embittered, as to a disenchanted world. This glut of reality was wanted to quench a long fever: but even here, if his own heart is true, he will find that Gods cord is not broken. Cottages dissolve and family circles scatter, but piety and love cannot perish. The cord is not broken; it is only the mooring-post which a friendly hand has moved farther inland, and fixed sure and steadfast within the veil; and as the strain which used to pull along the level is now drawing upward, the home which memory used to picture in the Highlands, faith learns to seek in heaven. The true home of humanity is God--God trusted, communed with, beloved, obeyed; and,
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
do we come from God, who is our home, but trailing clouds of glory with us. Alloyed and interrupted by much that is base and wicked, there are in human nature still touches of tenderness, gleams of good feeling, noble impulses, momentary visitations of a natural piety, brought away from that better time and its blest abode, and which may be regarded as electric thrills along the line which connects with its Creator a fallen but redeemed humanity: as so many gentle checks of that golden chain which will one day bring back Gods banished, and see the world all righteous. The head of the great household is God, and the earthly home He has constituted so as to be an image of His own paternity. That home is founded in love, and in administering it love is called forth every day--often a pitying, for bearing, forgiving love--a love sometimes severe and frowning, often self-denying, it may chance self-sacrificing. As the world now is--a ruin, with a remedial scheme in the midst of it--that home is the nearest image of the Church, and should be the most efficient fellow-worker with it. In the family the first man himself would receive lessons on self-government such as even the garden of Eden did not supply, and perpetual occasion for its exercise. In what a variety of ways would he learn to repeat to his children the substance of the Divine prohibition to himself--Thou shalt not eat of it. How soon would he who had had Paradise for a home discover that if he would convert home into a paradise he must guard his offspring at this point, subordinating their lower propensities to their superior powers. If presided over by those who themselves fear God--and otherwise no house is a home--there will be something sacred in its atmosphere, and alike enforced by affection and authority the lessons of heavenly wisdom will sink deep; and with a sufficient probation superadded to a careful protection, it is to be hoped that, before transplantation into the worlds rough weather, good dispositions may have been so far confirmed as only to strengthen by further trial. In order to make your home the preparation for heaven, the first thing is to strengthen that cord of love by which you ought to hold your child, even as our heavenly Father holds His children. That love is yours already--an up-leaping, uplooking affection, if you do not destroy its tenderness by perpetual rebuffs, if you do not forfeit reverence by being yourself unworthy of it. Ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath; be not always scolding, reproving, punishing; but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Take advantage of their affection for yourself, and use it as the appointed medium for drawing them into the love of God. Train up the child in the way he should go. If he is not to go in the way of low pastime and coarse indulgence, point him to higher joys; open to him the well-spring of knowledge; try to ascertain and develop a turn for some ennobling pursuit, or create a taste for the treasures bequeathed by genius. After all, however, there is another influence which goes farther in creating the home. It is mother-love which endears the fatherland, and it is to the cradle that the fairy-line is fastened which even in the far country holds so mysteriously the heart of the wanderer. When Napoleon, with his army of invasion, lay at Boulogne, an English sailor who had been captured tried to escape in a little raft or skiff which he had patched together with bits of wood and the bark of trees. Hearing of his attempt, the First Consul ordered him to be brought into his presence, and asked if he really meant to cross the channel in such a crazy contrivance. Yes, and if you will let me, I am still willing to try. You must have a sweetheart whom you are so anxious to revisit. No, said the young man, I only wish to see my mother, who is old and infirm. And you shall see her, was the reply, and take to her this money from me; for she must be a good mother who has such an affectionate son. And orders were given to send the sailor with a flag of truce on board the first British cruiser which came near enough. Napoleon was always eager to declare his own obligations to his high-spirited and courageous mother, the beautiful Letizia Ramolini; but the difficulty would be to find any man of mark who has not made the same avowal. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me
Impiety urging unjust demands
Here was--
1. A disregard of most sacred obligations. This young man was bound by the most sacred obligations to manifest ever a spirit of gratitude to his father--ever practically show that he recognized the immense obligation under which he was laid by the never-ending kindnesses of that father. But instead thereof, we find rebellion against home restraints, and discontent with a fathers rule and with home blessings. He resolved to leave the weary monotony of home for the variety and pleasure of distant scenes; and not caring for the injustice of the demand, would be free and unfettered; he would wander away as he pleased, and do whatever he listed; and gathering up his ingratitude, his selfishness, and his rebellion in one act of shameless courage, he said to his father, Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. Ask yourselves whether you do not act thus with God. Is it a fact that you are happy in the smiles of God, or is it true that you try to shun Him and His laws? Is it a fact that you have placed yourself in His hands, and are trusting to His Fatherly love to guide you aright; or, is it true that you place no sincere dependence in God to guide you, but are trusting to yourself-your own energy and wisdom--for all you want? By these simple rules you may easily know your state; and I pray you, as you value your souls interest, know the truth at once. Here was--
2. A wrong standard of manhood. He imagined that whilst at home he was in leading strings, was a child, and would never be a man. To be a man, he thought he must break loose from the trammels of home, and walk out freed from all restraint. To be a man, he thought he must be his own master, and be responsible to no one. To be a man, he thought he must command his time and his purse, and satisfy the inquisitiveness of none. We know he was a fool, and knew nothing rightly: that he would have been a thousand times more of a man if he had ordered his life by a just and righteous law, if he had respected Divine and social obligations, and ii he had paid deference to the wisdom and experience of those who knew the world and would have given him sound and wholesome advice. Licence is not liberty. Rioting is not happiness. Extravagance, carelessness, and sensuality are not manliness. To be a man, you must be a gentleman; and every true gentleman pays respect to law; to the laws of social life as well as to the laws of the State; to the laws of God as well as to the laws of man. Here was--
3. A manifestation of the most intense selfishness. He well knew the grief and pain which he caused his father. He knew also the difference it would make to home comforts if he took away a share of the family estate. But he cared not for that. He would do as he pleased, regardless of all others claims and feelings. Selfishness is the most unfeeling passion in the human breast. This is just the spirit of the world. Its unceasing cry is, Give me. No matter what it costs; no matter what hearts break; no matter what misery is caused; no matter who lacks--Give me. In the temple of Mammon from every shrine there ascends the ceaseless litany, not Grant me in mercy Thy favours, but Give me my claims. From every unhumbled heart there ascends the constant petition, sharpened in the intensity of its appeal by the very benevolence of Gods character, Give me. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The younger son and his demand
The young man brought before us in this story is just the sort of person whom the world would describe as a thoroughly sensible fellow. I feel sure that such a man in our own day would be thus described by his companions. He showed his sense just in the way in which men of the world show theirs now. Let us regard him for a few moments from this point of view. The first thing that this sensible man does is to feel dissatisfied within himself at the condition of dependence in which he is introduced to us. The father seems to have been in comfortable circumstances-perhaps in affluence. The young man has never been begrudged anything; all his wants have been supplied as fast as they have arisen. But then his position was one of dependence, and it was that that made things so far from agreeable. It was not his fathers way to bestow his wealth upon his children, so that they might possess an independent property, but to supply their reasonable wants as fast as they occurred, and it was against this state of things that the young mans will began to rebel. Why should not I be like other fellows? What a humiliating thing it is that I should be treated like a grown up child! If I had my own fortune to do what I liked with, I should very soon be able to show this father of mine what the use of money is, and how it should be spent. The father does not refuse: he will not keep his son in a state of compulsory dependence upon him. There and then he divides unto them his living. Observe, he divides his living between both his sons. It does not say that he gave half to the younger son and kept the other half himself, but he divided unto them his living. What became of the elder sons portion? Where did he invest it? How did he employ it? We find that long years afterwards his elder sot, says, Thou never gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my friends. Ah! the elder brother had the wisdom to give back what was his. No sooner was his portion of goods assigned to him than he put it back again in safekeeping. I can fancy him saying to his father, I do not want my portion, I am quite happy, I have all I want. In a moment of discontent, at a later period, he allows himself to speak hardly of his fathers treatment, but this eldest son understood his father on the whole, although for a moment he might be unfaithful to the consciousness of the benefits of his position: and so he had the wisdom to give back what his father had given to him. But the younger son was a far more sensible fellow than that. So soon as he gets his money, he makes up his mind to spend it according to his own hearts desire. So the second thing this particularly sensible young man does is to make up his mind that the restraints of home are positively intolerable. He cannot go on in this droning way any longer; he must see something of the world; life is hardly worth having under such conditions; he must break away from the restraints of the paternal roof, turn his back upon old associations, and go forth and enjoy himself: he has had enough of this hum-drum, tedious life; so, like a very sensible young man, he leaves his fathers home, and goes forth into a distant land. I can fancy it cost him something at the moment. Nobody ever goes to hell without meeting with difficulties in the way. As he looked into his fathers face and saw the tear rising in the old mans eye--as he took a long last look at the dear old home where he had spent somany happy and innocent years, I can fancy it cost him something. A better instinct would sometimes assert itself within his nature. Have you not been happy? Those sunny hours of childhood, what could have been more pleasant? If you have been unhappy it has been your own fault. Your brother is a happy man; why should not you have been? But the lower instinct prevailed; his downright good common-sense was stronger than anything else: so that this thoroughly sensible man makes up his mind to turn his back upon his fathers house, and into a distant land he goes. Now what was the next step that this sensible fellow took? When he had asserted his independence and had got away from his father, and the restraints of home, he began to enjoy himself. Surely he showed his sense in that! How does he enjoy himself? He wasted his substance in riotous living. That does not sound very sensible just at first; but there are plenty of young men who show their good sense by pursuing the same course. Oh, you say, we do not approve of fellows being spendthrifts: yet you approve of men spending something that is far more precious than money. How have you been spending your time? What have you to show for it? How have you been spending your influence? Every one of you might have been using it for eternity, and already there might have been a crown of glory laid up as the result of well-used influence. What has become of it? How have you been spending your money? for we may as well speak of that too. Some of you have been scattering it to the winds; others hoarding it up in the bank; some, laying it out in business speculations, and the very gold which you might have so used as to lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven has become the curse of your life. How does it appear in Gods sight? Wasted!--that substance of yours squandered, because it has never been turned to any really good purpose. What was the next thing that this sensible young man did? He formed a great ninny gay acquaintances. I do not think there is a young man in this congregation that lives for the world, but will agree that he was on the whole a sensible man in doing that. It is just what you do. How many a young man there is who is kept back from doing what he knows is right because he has formed so many acquaintances, and is surrounded by the influence of his companions. He would like to be different, but then he cannot shake off their influence; they keep him spell-bound. How sensible you are to let those friends of yours do the very worst that your worst enemy could desire to do for you! Do you think that is sensible? What was the next thing that this sensible young man did? When his pleasures had all failed him, when his roses had become thorns, then he began to be sober, and like many sober people, he began to look about for employment. He finds it rather difficult to obtain any employment that suits him, but employment he must have. Oh! how like many of our worldly prodigals! When they have spent their youth in following one wild excitement after another--in poor, empty, idle hilarity and futile mirth--when manhood comes on with all its grave cares, they begin to occupy their minds with business. The mighty famine has begun to assert itself; the man is beginning to find the emptiness of the pleasures which he has lived for; he can no longer enjoy them; the capacity of enjoyment is beginning to pass away from him; and now he plunges into business; he becomes a slave of daily routine, it may be; his mind is taken up with a thousand occupations; he begins to work hard, and all to satisfy the moral hunger of his nature. He gives himself up to money-making, yet that does not satisfy, but he thinks it will. He flies to speculation: that excites, but does not satisfy--he hopes it will. He betakes himself to domestic occupation, the joys or the cares of family life, and he hopes to find satisfaction there, yet he does not. Is not the man a sensible being? The mighty famine becomes more and more insupportable, and the want becomes more and more appalling. Our young friend sits solitary in the field; cannot you see him? His clothes are torn into rags, his eyes are sunken in their sockets, his cheeks are hollow, his lips are parched and cracked; he looks like the very effigy of famine itself. The swine are feeding around him; he is gnawing at the very husks which the swine eat. And no man gave unto him. What, no man? No man. Of all his former friends, of those who had stood by him so faithfully as long as he had money to spend and luxuries to offer, what! no man? Not that boon companion, not that friend who only a few weeks ago swore that he would stand by him through thick and thin? No man? Nay, the last crust has been devoured. There he sits famine-stricken, solitary, the preying of hunger in his body, far more the prey of remorse in his scull There he sits. Poor sensible man! That is what his common-sense has brought him to. At this moment a change takes place. Holy Scripture describes it as a change from insanity to sanity. He ceases to be a lunatic, and he begins to be himself. He came to himself. It passes from him like a horrible dream, that strange delirium of the life which he had been leading since he left his fathers home, with all its transient circumstances, its fleeting joys, its gaudy decorations, the poor, empty bubbles that have broken in his grasp--it has all passed from him like a horrible dream. He starts, as from a nightmare. Cannot you see him as he springs from the ground, with a sudden light beaming upon his countenance, his face turned toward the home of his infancy? What a fool I have been! My whole life has been one great mistake. From beginning to end, I have just been adding error to error as well as sin to sin. I have thrown away health, and affluence, and comfort, and respectability, and peace of mind, and innocency, and reputation, everything worth having--I have lost it all! And here I am, a wreck of a man; all real pleasure gone out of my life; stricken down by the fatal pestilence of sin, shrivelled up by the miserable famine which reigns within my nature. What a fool I am! Oh, happy they who come to this conclusion before it is too late! (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
The younger and elder sons; or, differences of character in the same family
Those who belong to the same family, and have enjoyed the same opportunities, often turn out very differently. One proves a comfort, another a grief, to his parents; for a wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish one is the heaviness of his mother. Grace runs not in families; for, in this respect, a house is often divided. God takes one of a city, and two of a family, and brings them to Zion. Jacob and Esau were twin brothers; yet Jacob was a man of prayer, and, as a prince, had power with God and men, and prevailed; while Esau was a profane man, and sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. Some children become even exceedingly profligate, while others are quite steady; and among those who are steady there is much diversity, some being merely decent and inoffensive, while others are eminently dutiful and kind. So, in the case supposed in this parable, the two sons are represented as being of very opposite habits. (James Foote, M. A.)
Eastern law of inheritance
There are some who consider this demand so strange, and the fathers compliance with it, abused as the compliance was likely to be, so much stranger still, that the supposition can only appear natural when there is taken into view the custom which prevailed in Eastern countries of children claiming their share of their fathers property during his lifetime, which, it appears, they were legally entitled to do, and with which demand, of course, the father could not refuse to comply. The intention of this law was to protect children against harsh usage from their parents; but it was certainly very liable to abuse. The son might be unreasonable in his demand, yet the demand must first be acceded to before the matter could be legally inquired into; and then, if it was found that the father was irreproachable in his character, and had given no just cause for the son to separate from him, in that case the civil magistrate fined the son. Others, however, are of opinion that, though the Mosaic law provided against improper partialities and dislikes on the part of a father when disposing of his property, there is not sufficient ground for affirming that it vested any such right in children during the life of their parents; and they therefore look on the compliance of the father, here supposed, as an instance of singular generosity, which rendered the undutiful departure and conduct of his son peculiarly base. When the father assigned his portion to the younger son, he, at the same time, assigned his portion to the elder, who, according to the Jewish law, would receive a double portion. The words of the parable are, He divided unto them his substance. In doing so he may be supposed to have reserved what was merely sufficient for himself. (James Foote, M. A.)
Give me my portion
Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. The young man seems to say, My youth is my own, and all that it brings within my reach. Why should you fetter me with restraints, or impose upon me an unfriendly yoke? It is enjoyment that makes life worth having, and self-gratification means enjoyment. Let me have my liberty, and do exactly what I please. Why have to weigh each particular action, and turn away from pleasures that attract me because they are supposed to be wrong? Religion means giving up everything I like, and submitting to things that I dont like; it means all that is tedious and irksome. I prefer to be my own. Give me my portion of goods--the sunny hours of youth; they are mine, and I will do with them as I please. Give me my portion of goods, says that child of fashion. Youth and beauty, and attractive manners, and wit and popularity, and the faculty of winning admiration and even affection--they are all alike mine, and I intend to get all I can out of them. Why shouldnt I? If I were to listen to the claims of religion, I should have to stop and think before I allowed myself to enjoy anything; and conscience might be troublesome, and I might be checked and worried by all sorts of straight-laced notions, and thus I might leave the flowers of life unplucked and the fruit of the garden ungathered. Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And it is not only the young and the heedless that urge the request. Would that we grew wiser as we grow older! Give me my portion, the man of the world seems to say. Money, and all that it will buy--power and popularity, and success and social position, the excitements of commerce, the gratification of political or social ambition--these are my portion. If I were to become religious, who knows howmy course of life might have to be changed and modified? Indeed, I might have to alter its whole aim and purpose, and impose upon myself all sorts of obligations which I pay no heed to now. My money is mine; why shouldnt I use it as I please? My time is mine; why should I not spend it as I like? My faculties and talents are my own; why should I not employ them for my own gratification? Give me my portion of goods, exclaims the woman of the world. My children are my own, and I will train them up in the way wherein I wish they should go. I will, if I please, educate them in vanity, and train them to shine in society, so that my motherly pride may be gratified. My house is my own; it shall be the home of luxury and the temple of domestic pleasure. I will order it as i will, but there shall be no place there for Him who was welcomed of old at Bethany. Jesus Christ might prove a troublesome guest, and dispute my supreme authority, if He once were welcomed there. It is my own home, and I will do with it as I please. Thus it is that men and women still claim their portion of goods. And God looks on, and sees them take His gifts without even the word of thanks which no doubt fell from the lips of the prodigal, and find in these His gifts a reason for turning their backs upon the Giver; and yet He does not interfere any more than this father did. Wilful man must have his own way, until at last, in bitter grief and anguish, either here or hereafter, he reaps the fruit of it, and finds that there is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
God allows man to use his independence
It is surely worthy of notice that the father makes no sort of difficulty of compliance with his request. We do not even hear of a word of expostulation on his part. And this may teach us that when we elect to break away from our proper relations with God, and to assert our own independence, or fancied independence, of Him, we are free to do so. God does not constrain our will by the assertion of His superior power. If me are determined to turn our backs on Him, and break away from His control, we can do it, and He wont hinder us, however much it may cut Him to the heart that we should wish to adopt such a course. I see a look of sadness pass over that venerable face, but that is the only outward sign of the sorrow and disappointment that fill the fathers heart. He calls both his sons into his presence, and there and then he divides his whole fortune between them, and the discontented boy finds himself possessed of all he desired, and of more than all that tie had dared to hope for. At last he is his own master, and can take his own coulee, and do just as he pleases. His eyes glisten, his heart bounds; but in the midst of his wild, hilarious excitement that sorrowful look on his fathers face must ever and again, methinks, have risen on his memory. Do you think, after all, he was really happy? Was there not already a bitter drop in his cup? He had gained his fortune, but how much had it cost! (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
The discontented son gets his wish
The father might have refused. It was a grave step, but he sees that it springs from no sudden impulse. He had marked with anxious looks the unmistakable dissatisfaction of his younger son. The warmth of that once loving heart has gradually died away into a spirit of cold, sullen, settled discontent. This had not escaped the fathers eyes. Even the flimsy appearance of propriety, he foresees, must soon give way to some outbreak of avowed rebellion; so that now it is no use remonstrating--the time for that is gone by. Things are come to such a crisis that he has all but thrown off the yoke. Well, thought he, be it so, since it must be. Better let him have his own way; better to let him follow out his own plans. He little thinks what this step will lead him to. Experience, perhaps, may teach him, by some bitter fruits, the sin, and folly, and ingratitude of all this. He divided to them his living. This is Gods method with sinners. If they do not like to retain God in their knowledge, and set their heart upon their iniquities, bursting the bonds of conscience, and trampling on the warnings and precepts of His Word--ii they have loved idols, and after idols they will go--be it so. God will not contend for ever. He gives them up to their own hearts desire, and leaves them to be filled with their own devices. But it is a tremendous chastisement. It is the scourging with scorpions, and not with whips. Oh, better to hear any of those terrible threatenings that God thunders against sin and sinners, whereby, peradventure, they may be warned and turn. But no sentence is so terrible as that which silently leaves the sinner to himself. (W. B. Mackenzie, M. A.)
God does not deny foolish, inexperienced man his wish
The latter is a free agent, and must needs be treated as such. If he will have the management of his own affairs, why he must just have it. Doubtless there would be many unreported conversations between the father and the youth before he consented to give him his portion. He would often lay his hand affectionately on his sons shoulder and remonstrate with him. He would beseech him to remain at home and keep him company. Perhaps he would say, Now that your mother is dead and gone, my heart doats upon you; for you resemble her much. But no; the selfish youth would have his own portion, and set up a separate establishment. In like manner, if men will set up and set off for themselves, the Lord does not absolutely deny them their wish, although He yields reluctantly and after long expostulation. And the Divine Spirit still mournfully hovers near, saying, Turn ye, turn ye; for why will ye die? (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
The divided living
He divided unto them his living--literally his life. That is what the heavenly Father has done. He has given His darling--the apple of His eye--His only begotten Son--His life. He has putHim down into the midst between the two classes of characters. The one thief rails, the other adores; the one son loves, the other rejects. But let us beware, for this Child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel. The great question of the judgment day will be, How did you treat My life, whom I gave you as your portion? Yes, every man has a portion from God. The humblest artizan has a portion. The poorest factory-girl has a rich dowry. Jesus is her portion. Your birthright, my reader, is eternal life in Him. But see that you sell it not, like Esau, for a mess of pottage. See that the intoxicating cup, or the pleasures of the world, do not rob you of immortal bliss. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Took his journey into a far country
Departure from home
Momentous is the occurrence, if not always sad, of a young man first leaving home. He launches his barque on lifes rough sea, and will he safely ride over the waters? will he avoid the quicksands of temptation? will he steer clear of the rocks of vicious indulgence? will he, guided by the heavenly Pilot, reach the port of heaven in safety? These are problems that the future alone will solve. Observe here--
I. IMPIETY OBTAINING UNJUST DEMANDS. We are not aware that the father made any great opposition to those demands. Perhaps he had reasoned with him so many times before, with no success, that he had grown tired. Perhaps he plainly saw that his sons heart was gone from home, and he felt by no means anxious to retain a heartless boy. And with a heaving breast, though but few words, proceeded to divide unto each his living. The young man thus obtained his desire.
1. Man can generally get what he strives for. If a diligent, persevering, careful man sets his heart upon establishing a business, he can generally succeed. In such cases the prizes are far more common than the blanks. More than that; if a man sets his heart in obtaining any particular object, that object can generally be had. Energy, whether in a bad or a good cause, will mostly be crowned with success. This is a terrible view to take of those who live only for the things of time. One of the most terrific sentences that ever dropped from the Saviours lips illustrates this sentiment. Speaking of the Pharisees and their motives for fasting, praying, and giving alms: Verily, He says, I say unto you, they have their reward. Not they shall have, but they have. They do these things to be seen of men, and to have applause of men. That is the height of their ambition, and to that they attain.
2. A tremendous power this is in man. He can choose his own path, and walk in the way that he has marked out. Like the father of the prodigal, God will not hinder him from doing as he pleases. He did not in paradise; He left Adam free and unfettered in action. In like manner, when the Israelites cried out for flesh, and mourned for the flesh-pots of Egypt, God heard their cry, and brought them quails in abundance; but the object of their desire became the rod of their punishment. And God through all the ages has acted in like manner.
3. This power of choice in man will at once suggest his responsibility. Be assured that Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap. I have read of a man who, wandering along a rocky shore at ebb of the tide, saw a lobster under a rock, and thinking he could gain a prize for his supper, put in his hand to lay hold of its claw. Instead of laying hold of the lobster, the lobster laid hold of him, and he was shortly horrified at finding that what he meant to be his captive was his too sure captor. All the strength that he could exert could not draw away his hand from the lobsters pinch. Above him from rock and ledge hung shells and seaweed, sure signs that if he remained there long the waves, rising inch by inch, would sweep completely over his head. The waters began to rise; they reached his hand. In the agony of despair he summoned every particle of remaining strength to get the imprisoned limb free, but all in vain. Higher and yet higher rose the waves, and his last dying shriek was lost in the roar of a breaker that spent its fury on the rocks around him. You pity him, do you not? But what would you say if told that he had deliberately fastened himself to a rock at ebb of the tide, and then waited for the waves to wash his life away? If you pity the one, you would be horrified at the other. But it is only a too true representation of the man who lives without God.
II. IMPIETY BREAKING LOOSE FROM HOME RESTRAINTS. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country. When the Emperor Decimus desired to place the crown upon the head of Decius his son, the young prince refused in the most strenuous manner, saying, I am afraid lest, being an emperor, I should forget that I am a son; I had rather be no emperor and a dutiful son than an emperor and such a son as hath forgotten his true obedience. What a contrast was that to the case of the prodigal! Not only did he demand his share of the goods, but he added insult to injury by refusing any longer to be bound by the ties of home. This was the natural result of his unnatural demand. As to locality, we cannot depart from God. He fills heaven and earth. Yet morally and spiritually man may forsake God. If God is banished from the thoughts, He is forsaken. You may be surrounded with the light of the sun, but although it is noonday, if you persist in closing your eyes, it is the same to you as though there were no sun. And if you persist in banishing God from your thoughts, it is the same to you as though there were no God. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The prodigals departure
There is a picture of Vernets which brings out with extraordinary power his character of selfish unconcern for the feelings of his father. It represents the courtyard of an Eastern house, in which he is taking leave. The mother is leaning, in the depths of distress, against the side of the door, the father is bending towards him with a countenance full of yearning affection and grief, as if his heart would break; a leading domestic, perhaps the steward of the house, clenches his hands as unable to restrain his feelings of indignation, astonishment, and shame at his cool indifference as he turns away from his fathers embrace to a groom who is holding a high-mettled and richly-caparisoned steed, so that lie may mount it at once and take his departure. Altogether it is a dreadful picture; but it may have been, and no doubt was, far below the reality of a multitude of such scenes, vividly present to the all-comprehending mind of the Divine Speaker. (M. F. Sadler.)
Moral declension
These words have had infinite applications; every one, perhaps, who has heard them, has applied them in many different ways. No one need contradict the other; those who have learnt the meaning from their own experience have understood it best. How the sense of an eternal home, of a fathers house, is awake in childhood; how it dies out as the youth begins to gather all together--to make a world for himself; how he travels further and further from the remembrance of home; how the Divine treasures of affection, hope, intellect, health, become dissipated; how he loses himself in the intoxications of the senses; here you have a story which is repeated again and again, and always finds mournful facts in us and in our fellows to illustrate and enforce it. And so the records of Gentile mythology and Gentile history explain themselves to us. We see what the cause of moral declension in the nations of the old world was; how the feeling of the invisible lost itself in visible worship; how the sense of unity broke into a number of objects of terror or of beauty; how the fear of a destroyer struggled with the hope of a deliverer; how the first overpowered the second; how the belief in justice contended with the dread of a Power which could overpower justice; how the lusts of the man darkened the images of the gods whom he adored; how he sought, by vile expedients, to avert the wrath before which he trembled; how superstitions grew to be more fearful; how moral corruptions always gained strength along with them; how protests against both mixed with an unbelief in those truths which the superstitions counterfeited, in the righteousness which the corruptions defied. (F. D. Maurice, M. A.)
An ignoble departure
In old days the young knight rode forth to do justice and redress wrong--and that was a noble and a hopeful starting. But this young prodigals riding forth--it was all meanness and sadness and misery. Look for nothing brave or manly there. From innocence to sift, from sin to sorrow--there was no beauty in that path. To be the slave of Satan, to follow the whisper of temptation in the black and dark night--there was nothing but abomination in that errand. A bird hasting to the snare, an ox led to destruction, are the fit emblems of that pilgrimage. The roads are different, but all deadly; one leads to madness, one to suicide, one to sudden destruction, one to open shame; but they all sweep through the valley of the shadow, they all end in the chambers of death and hell. (Archdeacon Farrar.)
Leaving home
Seldom, it may be hoped, does a youth leave home simply because he has tired of it; still more rarely, we trust, because he wishes to lead a life of mere self-indulgence. More frequently it is on an honourable errand that the youthful pilgrim sets forth. A subsistence must be earned, an education must be obtained, a profession has been chosen, a Divine call is obeyed; and so the student goes to college, the recruit seeks his regiment, the sailor joins his ship, the aspirant after an honourable independence starts for the city or the distant colony; and there is on both sides true tenderness--on the one side the best intention, on the other many an earnest prayer. For character there is a twofold security--the first commandment and the fifth--love to God and hallowed domestic affections: nor is that character likely to drift where both anchors are out, and where the heart is well moored both to the home on earth and the home on high. If you wish to have a happy and honourable career, you must choose the best companions. Your fellow-clerks, your neighbours in the shop or factory, you cannot choose: they are chosen for you; but it is left in your own option to select your friends; and you may find it a great difficulty. If you were a dry, disagreeable fellow, people would let you alone; but if you are worth cultivating; if instead of being a preset or a pedant, you have pleasant dispositions and a frank, popular way, instead of being a silent, solemn automaton, or the next thing to it, a man of one idea--a wooden centaur who has grown -into the same substance with hishobby; if you have a rich and varied nature; if you have humour; if you are musical; if you are fond of athletic sports; if you read; if you row--every separate liking is just a several hook, a distinct affinity to which a kindred spirit will be apt to attach itself, and ere ever you are aware you may find yourself complicated with an acquaintanceship which, although at some point or other agreeable, is on the whole cumbrous or uncongenial. It is pleasant to feel that you are liked, and it is painful to keep at arms length those who take to you and would evidently value your society. Nor would it be fair to call them by hard names. They are not seducers or systematic assassins, lying in wait for the precious soul; and the harm they do is not so much from having any evil purpose as from their having no right principle. Nevertheless, if a man carrying contagion proposes a visit or offers you his arm, although he intends no injury, you stand aloof, and you are not to be denounced as a churl for declining a danger which he does not realize. Two are better than one, and you will find it both protection and incentive if you can secure a faithful friend; and in some respects better than two are the many; therefore you cannot do more wisely than seek out in the Young Mens Society a wider companionship; and whilst instructed by the information of some, and strengthened by the firmer faith or larger experience of others, there are important themes on which you will learn to think with precision, and in the exercise of public speaking you will either acquire a useful talent or will turn it to good account. You are a young man away from home. We have said, choose good companions; we must add, beware of bad habits. It is of vast moment to be just right when starting. At Preston, at Malines, at many such places, the lines go gently asunder; so fine is the angle that at first the paths are almost parallel, and it seems of small moment which you select. But a little farther on one of them turns a corner or dives into a tunnel, and now that the speed is full the angle opens up, and at the rate of a mile a minute the divided convoy flies asunder: one passenger is on the way to Italy, another to the swamps of Holland; one will step out in London, the other in the Irish Channel. It is not enough that you book for the better country: you must keep the way, and a small deviation may send you entirely wrong. A slight deflection from honesty, a slight divergence from perfect truthfulness, from perfect sobriety, may throw you on a wrong track altogether, and make a failure of that life which should have proved a comfort to your family, a credit to your country, a blessing to mankind. Beware of the bad habit. It makes its first appearance as a tiny fay, and is so innocent, so playful, so minute, that none save a precisian would denounce it, and it seems hardly worth while to whisk it away. The trick is a good joke, the lie is white, the glass is harmless, the theft is only a few apples from a farmers orchard, the bet is only sixpence, the debt is only half-a-crown. But the tiny fay is capable of becoming a tremendous giant; and if you connive and harbour him, he will nourish himself at your expense, and then, springing on you as an armed man, will drag you down to destruction. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
Life abroad
I. IT WAS A LEAP OF UNBOUNDED LICENCE. My text says, He spent his substance in riotous living. His elder brother unveils some of that rioting by telling his father that he had devoured his living with harlots. What a picture! He had been trained by godly parents. How soon did he forget the guides of his youth! Not all at once, however, did he fall from a pure-minded youth to a degraded debauchee. One principle, smitten by the hand of pleasure, fell, then another, and at last there was nothing in common between him and his pious father. Let us look in upon this young man in the midst of his rioting. He has been for some time now in the far country, and has tolerably well established himself as a dissolute liver. See him in one of his midnight orgies. A numerous company is present. The profane and the sceptical, the abandoned and the unfortunate are there. But where is the prodigal? Surely that is not he at the end of the room, with bloated face, and cold, grey, glassy, loveless eye; with person unclean, and garments barely fastened; with one arm resting on the shoulders of a dissolute companion, and with the other lifting high the goblet in which the wine is red and sparkling; who, with the frequent faltering of a drunken hiccup, now swears bitter oaths, and now sings a lascivious song. Can this be he?
II. IT ENDED IN ABJECT MISERY AND WANT. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land, and he began to be in want. His fortune, enough for ordinary demands, was soon run through at the rate he lived, and at last, in the midst of famine, he came to absolute need. He had spent all; and as he had never cultivated any branch of industry, and his life of vicious indulgence had most likely incapacitated him for labour, he was reduced to dire extremities. He began to be in want. Lord Chesterfield, than whom no nobleman has been more celebrated for all the elegancies of a courtly, and all the accomplishments of a social, life, said, I am now at the age of sixty years; I have been as wicked as Solomon; I have not been so wise; but this I know, I am wise enough to test the truth of his reflection, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. He began to be in want! The reason of this felt want, both in the prodigals and in every sinners heart, is simply that man has a soul I You might as well try to feed your body on ashes as satisfy your soul with sinful indulgences. Reduced to such dire extremity he sought help. He went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. He who once scorned to be his fathers son now became a strangers slave. He had sought liberty and found a prison. Servants waited on him at home; he was the lowest of all servants abroad. Trapp truly says, Ruin follows riot at the heels. And now he comes to his lowest state. And no man gave unto him. We can hardly suppose that all his former companions were unaware of his sad condition; but not one of them will lend him a helping hand, or give him a morsel of bread. There is not one of the whole number that will render him assistance, or even afford him recognition. Know him, did you say? Oh dear no, we do not know him. Know that swineherd? Oh, no; the society in which we move we hope is different from that. Know that man in rags, did you say? Do you mean to insult us by insinuating that our companions are ragged? See that wretched starveling before? Certainly not; we know nothing of him or of his history! If he is sick, they will not visit him. If he is dying, they will not minister to him. If he dies, they will not drop a tear over his grave, or abate their revels for a moment. How striking the contrast between the Christian and the sinner in these respects! (W. G.Pascoe.)
The nature and consequences of sin
I. Here is, first, THE NATURE OF SIN. It is a departure from our Heavenly Father--a determination to be independent of God--a taking of the ordering of our lives into our own hands-a chafing under the restraints alike of the Divine law and the Divine love, and a setting up of ourselves as our own gods. Cunningly did Satan say to our common parents at the first--Ye shall be as God, knowing good and evil; and still this self-assertionlies at the root of our alienation of heart from God, and rebellion of life against Him. But yet more, this alienation of heart is from a Father; this rebellion is against One who has done more for us than ever mother did for the son of her love. We condemn, as the most culpable of all things, the cruelty of a son to his venerable parent; and we have scarcely language strong enough to express our detestation of such conduct as that of Absalom to his father. Yet, in Gods sight, we have been doing the very same thing, and we have given Him occasion to say concerning us, as Israel of old, Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth; for the Lord hath spoken. I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me.
II. But, secondly, we have here brought before us THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN. The first stage of iniquity is riotous joy. We must not keep that out of view. There is a pleasure in it, of a sort; for if this were not so, men would not he found indulging in it at all. There must be some kind of exhilaration in the flowing bowl, or in the wild thrill of sensual gratification, or in the gains of dishonesty. In every sin there is something of riot. Stolen waters are sweet, just, perhaps, because they are stolen; but the sweetness does not last long. It turns to bitterness in the belly; for, see, as the next result, the waste which it occasions. It wastes money, it wastes health, it wears the body to decay; but that is not the worst. These things here are set forth as but the outward indications of the waste of the soul. And, in truth, what a blasting thing sin is on the human spirit! How many who, in their youth, gave high promise of mental greatness, are now reduced to the merest drivellers, unable either to speak or write save under the influence of opium or alcohol! There is nothing in iniquity that can give contentment to the spirit. God has made us for Himself, and our souls are restless till they rest themselves in Him. We could call into court nearly as many witnesses as there have been hunters of happiness, mighty Nimrods in the chase of pleasure and fame and favour. We might ask the statesman, and as we wished him a happy new year, Lord Dundas would answer, It had need to be a happier than the last, for I never knew one happy day in it. We might ask the successful lawyer, and the wariest, luckiest, most self-complacent of them all would answer, as Lord Eldon was privately recording when the whole Bar envied the Chancellor, A few weeks will send me to dear Encombe, as a short resting-place betwixt vexation and the grave. We might ask the golden millionaire, You must be a happy man, Mr. Rothschild. Happy! me happy! What! happy! when just as you are going to dine you have a letter placed in your hand, saying, If you dont send me £500, I will blow your brains out! Happy! when you have to sleep with pistols at your pillows. We might ask the world-famed warrior, and get for answer the Miserere of the Emperor-Monk (Charles V.), or the sigh of a broken heart from St. Helena. Oh! shall we never become wise? Shall we never learn that there is nothing but misery while we are away from God? Ye who are seeking after happiness in earthly things, forbear. Ye are pursuing a quest more visionary than that of the child, who sets out to catch the pillars of the many-coloured rainbow in the far horizon. Never, never can you obtain what you are seeking, save in God. Turn, then, and beseech Him to give you that which you desire. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
The far country
A far country! Yes, indeed, it is a long and weary journey that the soul takes when it turns its back upon God. Shall we compare it to an ill-starred voyage from the tropics to the Polar Sea? I see yon gallant bark, as she pursues her north ward course, gaily gliding over summer seas. She coasts along the shores of a vast continent, rich in tropical luxuriance and bathed in perennial sunshine; but still as she passes on the gorgeous vision keeps fading from her view. She is northward bound. By and by things begin to wear a different aspect. She is sailing past lands of the Temperate Zone; vegetation is less luxurious, the sun is ever and again obscured, and when it shines lacks its old power. A few weeks more and there is another change; sombre pine forests clothe the mountain-shoulder now, and snowy summits begin to appear above them, and the air grows chill, and the sun seems wan and powerless. A little further, and soon the pine woods are left behind, and ever and again huge, towering icebergs begin to appear. But still the cry is Northward! and the day grows shorter and the long nights colder, and the pitiless blast whistles through the frosted shrouds, end in the next scene there is the ship in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice, hemmed in by frozen seas, and far as the eye can reach, one weary waste of desolation, a region of perpetual winter, bereft of almost every sign of life, a place of the shadow of death. Such, as it seems to me, is a picture of the fatal progress of the human soul along the way of Cain, as he drifts further and further from the Divine influence, and his nobler impulses are checked, and his warmer affections chilled, and his holier energies paralyzed, while the heart is hardened with the deceitfulness of sin. Thus it is that men turn their backs on the true summer land, of the soul in God, and drift into the perpetual winter of godlessness. Yes, there is the chill of a perpetual winter in that tragic word godless. A godless heart! a heart whose highest honour it should have been to be the very dwelling-place of God; a heart that might have been warmed and brightened with the sunshine of His love, but now cold and indifferent to all His influences; a lonesome, desolate, orphaned heart, robbed of its highest honour and denied its holiest privileges; a desecrated shrine, a deserted temple, and yet an empty, weary, disappointed heart, that nothing else can satisfy. A godless home! where human love is never sanctified by the higher love of heaven, where all the purest and truest earthly pleasures that the great Father gives are received as mere matters of course without any recognition of the Giver, where His smile never adds lustre to human joys, and His sympathizing comfort is never sought in moments of anxiety and sorrow; a home where cares weigh heavily because there is no heavenly Friend to bear them, where strifes and dissensions are never stilled by the Prince of Pence, where the daily round, the common task, carry no blessing along with them because God is not recognized there. A godless life-work! It is but lost labour that ye haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of carefulness. Labour not for the bread that perisheth, but for that which endureth unto eternal life; but this perishing bread is all that we have left to labour for when once we have broken away from God. And so men scheme, and plan, and speculate, and toil, and fret, and hurry, and push and sacrifice much of ease and comfort that they might enjoy; and all for what? What does commercial success mean but sooner or later the loss of all that we have been spending our lives in trying to gain, just because God is excluded from our busy lives? Worst of all, a godless religion! for religion may be adopted and its observances respected, not as a means of bringing us nearer to God, but rather as a means of making us the better contented to dispense with Him. Oar conscience is deadened by the thought that we come up to the conventional standard in religion, and we may be less likely to be alarmed at the thought of our spiritual danger than if we had no religion at all; and yet our religion may never have brought us into any actual personal and spiritual contact with God. Oh, my brethren, with whatever other curse we may be cursed, God save us from the curse of a godless religion! A godless end! Ah! this seems too terrible to contemplate, and yet we must contemplate it; for it is set before us that we may take warning by contemplating it. My friends, I would have you remember that this far country of which I have been speaking is but the frontier, so to speak, of the far realms of death. This going forth from the presence of God, what is it but incipient death? Already the wandering soul is drifting away from the one life-centre of the universe--the heart of God; and every days journey he takes is a journey deathward, until at length the terrible word Depart, falling from the Judges lips, sets the seal of doom upon the inexorable Nemesis of a lifelong sin. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
Man going into the far country
As it is less labour to stay a stone before it be moved, than turn it back again when it is in the tumbling; thus, then, goeth a man away further and further from the Lord by multiplication of his sins, as a man by multiplication of his steps goeth further away from the place wherein he was. It should therefore be our first care to beware of the beginnings of sin; and the next to beware we multiply not our sin, lest by so doing we go far from the Lord. (Bishop Cowper.)
The far country
This far country, then, is to be estimate by the distance of mans will and affections from the Lord, that is, Longinqua regio dissimilitudinis, for then is a man farthest from God, when he is most unlike unto God. So the Lord Himself expounds it; What iniquity have your fathers found in Me, that they are gone far from Me, walking after vanity, and are become vain? And the apostle to the Ephesians, comparing their former estate by nature, with that which now they were renewed to by grace, he saith, Ye which once were far off, are now made near by the blood of Jesus Christ. Whereof we see it is sins that makes to be far from the Lord, grace again that brings us near unto Him. Things that are far off were they never so precious and excellent, either else we see them not at all, or then they seem far less to us than they are. The sun is many times more than the earth, yet do we account it less than ourselves. The reason is, that it is far from us when men travel so far to the south, that the north pole in their sight comes near to the earth, and at length the sight thereof is intercepted from them by the earth, it is a sure argument they are far from it; even so, when men esteem the incomprehensible majesty of God, who by infinite degrees surmounts the beauty of the sun to be but small in their eyes, or when in their imagination they draw down the Lord to assimilate or compare Him to anything in earth, or when in their affections the earth comes in between their souls and the sight of the Lord, and the love of the earth prevails; it is an argument such miserable souls are far from the Lord. (Bishop Cowper.)
Wasted his substance with riotous living
Wasted substance
The English word substance is ambiguous. It may mean the pith and marrow of a mans body, or the contents of his purse. It may be taken both ways at once; for these two kinds of substance generally melt away together, in the bitter experience of the prodigal. His fortune is lost; his health has failed; and his pleasures, such us they were, bare fled. The pleasures, when they flee, leave behind them stings and terrors in the conscience. The youth begins to be in want--in want of food, and clothing, and home; in want of friends, in want of peace--in want of all things. A waif drifting towards the eternal shore--a lost soul. Such is the track of a prodigal. (W. Arnot, D. D.)
Waste
One tragic word seems to describe this young mans career of fatuous folly and sin in that far country, and oh, my brethren, it describes the lives of many more besides him! and that word is waste. He wasted his substance in riotous living. Yes, I say it describes the lives of many more beside him. Shall I be wrong in saying it describes the lives of all who do not according to the measure of their light and knowledge live to God? The man who has turned his back on God, and who regards himself as his own, has already entered upon a course of waste, even though he do not, like the prodigal, waste his substance in riotous living. In the case of those who emulate the prodigal in leading dissipated and profligate lives, the waste is as obvious as it was in his case, and unhappily such cases are by no means rare. It is astonishing how some men will waste things that we all value, and none, you would think, would willingly be stripped of. Take, for example, money, or social position, or health, or natural affection. No sane man doubts that each of these has a value of its own; indeed the general tendency of men is perhaps to value them too highly; yet what multitudes of men ruthlessly waste these precious possessions, as if they were not of the slightest value, and as if it were an object with them to get rid of them. And if you notice carefully, it is just the spirit of independence that leads them to do this. They conceive that liberty consists in doing whatever passing impulse may dispose them to do; but they feel that were they under the Divine control they would be continually subjected to checks and restraints which would interfere with their impulses, and prevent them from doing what at the moment they might wish. So the language of their hearts is, Let us break His bands asunder, and cast away His cords from us.
And they do exactly as they please, and the result is--waste. It is indeed surprising what exploits of waste some men contrive to perform under the influence of this habit of wilful self-pleasing. I heard of a Russian nobleman not Icing ago who was heir to a fortune of some £400,000 a year, yet it had not been in his hands very long before he was actually a bankrupt. It surely requires some ingenuity to get through such a fortune, and yet somehow he managed it, A friend of mine was called to the bedside of a poor miserable wretch who was dying of delirium tremens. I used the word bedside, but, strictly, bed there was none in the room where the dying man lay in his last lucid interval before the terrible end. There he lay, bloated, poverty stricken, filthy, scarcely covered with the rags which were his only apology for a bed; there he lay dying in stony despair; yet he told my friend that he had once been a prosperous London man of business, and had been worth his fifty thousand pounds. I visited a large seaside town a few years ago, and it was thought desirable, as multitudes thronged the esplanade, to send men with boards along it. I was told that one of the men, who carried the boards for a slender pittance of a few pence a day, was the son and heir of a man who had been once, and I believe continued to be up to his death, one of the richest shopkeepers in that large town; yet here was his son in absolute destitution, and he had brought it all upon himself by waste. But why should I multiply instances? Alas I there are few of us that have not had cases brought under our notice of the almost incredible folly exhibited by those who think themselves sensible men in this respect. I want to lay stress upon the fact that the folly arises from our taking a false view of what money is, and of what our relations to it are. If a man locks upon money as simply a means of purchasing self-gratification in whatever form it seems most attractive, it is not surprising that he should squander it lightly under the influence of a passing impulse. Considerations of prudence and forecast do not weigh against the claims of self-indulgence. The object of money seems to the spendthrift to be to procure enjoyment, and this is to be gained, it seems to him, rather by spending it than by keeping it, and therefore he proceeds to spend it. And so he wastes his substance, not because he spends, but because he regards that which he spends as his own to do exactly what he likes with. Oh, how many men are all the poorer for their fortunes! But money is not the only thing we waste when we turn our backs upon God, and we can trace the operation of the same law in every case. God has given to all of us faculties, and to some of us special gifts and talents. If we put these in His hands, as the elder brother gave back to the father his portion of goods, they must all contribute to our true wealth. If, on the other hand, we claim them for ourselves, and, regarding them as our own, turn our backs upon the Father, that which should have been our gain begins to be moral loss, and we are all the poorer for our natural endowments. Well used wealth contributes to the formation of a generous and godlike character, it helps to enrich your moral nature; and thus it is actually true that the hand of the liberal maketh rich. The material substance, which we can under no circumstances keep, passes from us, but it leaves us morally and spiritually the richer for its use. On the other hand, when we regard our substance merely as a means for self-gratification, our gain becomes positive moral loss. The abuse or unholy use of our substance means selfishness increased and developed, self-control weakened, the love of luxury, the passion for self-indulgence rendered more insatiable than ever; while our benevolence is diminished, and our sympathies are curtailed, the heart hardened, and the gain in the capacity to help and enlighten others; gain in the enjoyment of ever-enlarging visions of truth; gain in the acquisition of that spiritual knowledge which in the moral world must always as truly be power as is secular knowledge in the physical world. A consecrated intellect is wealth to the Church, wealth to the world, wealth to its possessor. But if you take your intellect out of Gods hands and regard it as your own, the process of waste at once begins. Your very gifts become snares. Intellectual pride breeds doubt, and doubt develops into crude, hasty unbelief. Or intellectual success induces self-conceit, which is one of the worst moral diseases that mans nature can be afflicted with. Or intellectual gratification becomes the object for which the man lives, only to find, with Solomon, that in much knowledge is much sorrow; and that, while the head may be filled, the heart remains empty. For we cannot live for knowledge without finding out more and more how little we know, and how little we can know. And this tends to render life one long, bitter disappointment; while, as the swiftly-flying years bring the end nearer, we have the melancholy conviction forcing itself upon us, that even that little can only be retained for a short time. Whether there be knowledge, says St. Paul, it shall vanish away. It is only waste after all. Or has God given you personal influence, springing either from your natural character and gifts, or from your social position? More or less, I believe, He has given this to each of us; a great deal to some. What are you doing with it? Consecrate it to God, and use it for the good of man, and then your portion of goods in the Fathers hands shall ever go on increasing, and your satisfaction shall ever become deeper and truer as you use this gift for its proper object. Who shall describe the blessedness which flows back, to him who so exercises it, from a well-used influence? and who shall say where its effects will end, in time and in eternity? But if this influence is used merely for self-gratification, to minister to our love of popularity or of power, once again our gift becomes our bane, and exercises a most injurious effect upon our moral nature, ministering to our pride, and promoting our selfishness, and thus defeating the very purpose for the sake of which the gift was originally bestowed. So here again we have nothing but waste--the good that might have been done left undone for ever, and actual harm done both to ourselves and others through that very gift which should have been for the benefit of all--and, as a result, instead of a heart full of true gratification andsatisfaction, the terrible awakening by and by to find that all this influence has been cast into the wrong scale. Oh, think of the anguish of remorse that must fill the heart at the discovery that we have helped to drag others down by the abuse of the very gift that should have raised them, and that we are perishing not alone in our iniquity! (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
The law restraining a prodigal
The Evening Standard, Friday, Feb. 26, 1886, contained the following: (From our correspondent.)--Paris, Thursday Night.
Considerable sensation has been caused in French social and financial circles by the appointment of a curator or Conseil judiciaire to M. Raymond Seilliere, a member of the well-known family of bankers and army contractors. This appointment of a Conseil judiciaire in restraint of prodigality is a peculiarity of French law adopted or inherited from the Roman law. Supposing A squanders his money and the inheritance of his children, his next of kin are empowered to apply to the law courts to deprive him of the administration of his fortune, and transfer it to an advocate or solicitor. No matter what his age may be, the person thus dealt with is reduced to a state of legal infancy, and no debt he may contract is recoverable unless his curator has sanctioned it. In the case of
M. Raymond Seilliere, the application, which was made at the suit of his brother, was grounded on the fact that within twelve years he had run through a fortune of twelve millions of francs (£480,000 sterling), and had in addition contracted loans to the amount of five millions (£200,000 sterling). One of the creditors opposed on the plea that the suit was instituted solely to enable M. Sellliere to evade the payment of his debts. The court, however, granted the application. M. Raymond Seilliere was thirty-nine years of age.
Wasted substance
He had not been gone long before his gathering comes to be scattering. No doubt, he had his pleasure in all this wasting. There is a revelling and a merriment in these riotous passions. It is soon gone; but still there is pleasure, though it is short-lived, in sin and squandering. The passions soon grow dull the gilding wears off--the music and the dance grow insipid and wearisome, the drunkards cups, in time, deaden, but dont intoxicate. Even Byron, before his life was half spent, was forced to acknowledge--
My days are in the yellow leaf,
The flowers, the fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief,
Are mine alone.
There is the sinner, worn, weary, wasted; he has wasted his time--wasted his precious season for preparing for eternity--wasted his own energies and power--wasted his parents care, and labour, and no shudder felt now when words of foul meaning pollute anothers lips, or the name of God is uttered in blaspheming rage. Oh, how altered! But all this, very significant as it is, the parable passes by. It is not so much what he saw or heard in that strange land as what he wasted, and how he wasted it, that is here marked down He wasted his substance with riotous living. (W. B. Mackenzie, M. A.)
Riotous living
Nothing can be nobler than a true and thorough manhood, where, amid the seductions of sense, the soul still retains the mastery of itself by retaining its loyalty to God. On the other hand, it is deeply distressing to find the higher nature dethroned or in thraldom. Wild stories circulate in many lands. In Northern Europe they tell how a child has been carried off by wolves, and brought up amongst them--taught to live in wolfish fashion, sleeping in the forest, joining in the hunt of the reindeer or aurochs, and drinking with savage delight the blood of the palpitating prey. And in Africa the like story is told--how the man has been kidnapped by the baboon, and, hurried up the mountain, has spent amidst these hideous monsters a horrible captivity. The risk is real. The climate may be good, the settlement may promise all that heart can wish, and the vicinity may be so far cleared as to make the immediate homestead tolerably secure; but it is folly to deny all danger. A wise man will be cautious; and if cautious he need not be nervous. It is only right and kind to give warning; and pleasant as is the lot of your inheritance, it is well to remember that the thickets and steep places are haunted. Frightful ogres frequent them, and they are sure to sally forth on the heedless wanderer. There are even instances on record where they have vaulted over the enclosure and carried off from the threshold some hapless victim. The names of three of the best known and most mischievous are--the Lust of the Eye, the Lust of the Flesh, and the Pride of Life; or, as they are sometimes called, Vanity, or the Love of Display; Sensuality, or the Love of Low Pleasure; and the Affectation of Fashion, or the Keeping-up of Appearances. For a hundred years England has yielded no scholar comparable to Richard Person. With a memory in which words and things were alike imperishable, and with that marvellous intuition which enabled him to personate any author, Greek or Roman, and in the broken parchment or faded manuscript at once perceive what AEschylus or Tacitus had meant to say, he had withal a wit which made him welcome at the board of rich and clever men; and to feed the wit they plied the wine, till in floods of liquor wit and wisdom both were drowned, and, the remains of the scholar buried in mere beastliness, the sot disappeared from society. For a hundred years Ireland has yielded no dramatist, no orator, equal to Richard Brinsley Sheridan; but even for that brilliant genius, whose versatile talents brought London to his feet, and carried captive the senate, strong drink was too powerful, and, in place of bouquets and ribbons, with writs and executions showering around him, he lay on his desolate couch bankrupt in character as well as in fortune, and would have been carried off in his blankets to the debtors gaol had not the apparitor of a mightier tribunal stepped in before the sheriffs officer and claimed the prisoner. For a hundred years--nay, through all the years--Scotland has yielded no poet who could seize the heart of the nation as it was seized by Robert Burns--master alike of its pathos, humour, chivalry. Alas! that pinions capable of such a flight as Bruce at Bannockburn and Mary in Heaven, should have come down to get smeared and bird-limed on the tapsters bough; alas! that from the Cottars Saturday Evening he should have passed away to the companionship of drunken ploughboys and coarse bullies in their night-long carousals in low taverns. Like the spear, some ten or twelve fathoms long, with which the Vancouver Indian ploughs the river-bed, and the barbed point comes off in the first great sturgeon which it pierces, the tenacious fibre uncoiling as he flies; so, paddling over the surface of society, it is with a long shaft that the demon of Drunkenness explores for his victims; but when one of his barbs gets fairly through the mail it usually fixes and is fast. The line is a long one, and will hold for years. It marks the victim; and the first time he rises another dart strikes through his liver, and then another, and at last a great many--the social glass leading on to the glass suggestive or the glass inspiring, and the glass restorative leading on to the glass strength-giving, and that again to glasses fast and frequent--glasses care-drowning, conscience-coaxing, grief-dispelling--till, gasping and dying, the hulk is towed ashore, and pierced through with many sins, weak, wasted, worthless, the victim gives up the ghost, leaving in the tainted air a disastrous memory. Whether coarse or refined, riot speedily wastes the revellers substance. Not only does it sap the constitution, and soften the brain, and shatter the nerves, and enfeeble the mind, but it exhausts the estate, and soon brings the spendthrift to poverty. And if the passion still urge and the fear of God has departed, wild methods will be tried to meet the demand and assuage the frantic craving. Keepsakes will be sold or pledged, to part with which would once on a time have looked like sacrilege. Money will be borrowed as long as any one will lend it, and then it will be taken from the till, or intercepted on the way from a customer or correspondent; and thus--it is a tale a thousand times told--dissipation leads on to dishonesty; and in keeping up the jovial life, nay, in merely keeping up appearances, character will be vilely cast away. Our hearts are weak, and we have continual need to pray, Deliver us from evil; for temptations are sometimes terrible. When in front of his own cathedral Bishop Hooper was fastened to the stake and the fire was slowly burning, they held up a pardon, and told him that he had only to say the word and walk at liberty. If you love my soul, away with it! was the exclamation of the martyr as every tortured fibre called for pity, but the loyal spirit revolted from the wickedness. So there may come a fiery trial where the adversary has got in pledge your income, your earthly prospects, your parents or your children, and asks if you will be so infatuated as to cast them away when the stroke of a pen, the pronouncing of a word, a nod or sign would suffice and save the whole. When the furnace is thus seven-times heated it will need much grace, in view of the proffered bribe, to cry, Away with it! and yet, through His timely succour, who, in the days of His flesh and in view of an awful alternative, poured forth strong crying and tears, such ordeals have been encountered by men of like passions with ourselves, and hem this lesser Gethsemane they have emerged with spirit softened and character confirmed, enriched by the loss, perfected by the suffering. However, it was not by a roaring lion, but by a plausible tempter that man was first led into evil; and our greatest danger arises from the subtlety of Satan and the pleasures of sin. If you would pass innocently through a difficult world, keep within the rules. Let your life be open, your eye single, your walk in the broad light of day. If a mistake is committed, lose no time in acknowledging it; and beware of getting complicated with unprincipled or low-minded companions. They will be sure to use you as the cloak or the catspaw of their own designs, and then, when their purpose is served, or when the day of disclosure arrives, they will sacrifice you and save themselves. Keep within the homestead. If compelled to quit the parental roof, cast yourself all the rather on your heavenly Fathers grace and guidance. And do not forsake the sanctuary. (James Hamilton, D,D.)
The temptations to expense
The great temptations to expense are the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life; and to these the great antidote is, not a limited income so much as a large self-denial. It is the lust of the flesh when the little boy spends all his halfpence on sugarplums. It is the lust of the eye when the peer cannot resist the porcelain of Sevres or the mosaic of Rome, but exhausts his estate in adorning his palace. It is the pride of life when the servant flaunts in finery and lets her parents starve; when the merchant spends on his mansion or his equipage all by which his neighbour or the world might be profited. But just as people can be profuse who are not earning a penny, so there are rich men who do not riot, and who in the generous use of their income enjoy a continual feast. If self-denying, you, too, will be rich. From personal expenditure saving all that you can, you will find it available for the most blessed of all bestowments; and in paying the school-fees of a younger brother, in a thoughtful gift to a sister, in lightening the burden of a toilworn father, in promoting the comfort of a faithful old servant who can work no longer, in a subscription to the missionary society or the Sunday-school excursion, in contributing to the happiness or welfare of others, you will reap the Divine reward of self-denial. (James Hamilton, D,D.)
Wasted lives
Of five rich young men whom the Rev. A. Wylie knew, one, he tells us, shot himself, another died of delirium tremens, another was drowned in the midst of dissipation, a fourth was stabbed in a gambling-house, and the fifth, assisted home by a policeman at two oclock in the morning, was found dead on his fathers hall floor.
Carlyle and the crust
It is related of Carlyle, that as he one day approached a street crossing, he suddenly stopped, and stooping down picked something out of the mud, at the risk of being run over by one of the many carriages in the street. With his bare hands he brushed the mud off, and placed the substance on a clean spot on the kerb-stone. That, said he, in a tone as sweet and in words as beautiful as I ever heard, is only a crust of bread. Yet I was taught by my mother never to waste, and above all, bread, more precious than gold, the substance that is the same to the body that the mind is to the soul. I am sure that the little sparrows, or a hungry dog, will get nourishment from that bit of bread.
Folly of leading a gay life
A practical illustration of the folly of leading a gay life came under the notice of the surgical staff of Chafing Cross Hospital in August, 1880. John Wallberoff, about fifty-five years of age, residing at a common lodging-house in Westminster, asked the surgeons to attend to an injury which he had received to his chest, which, he said, had been caused by the police while he was under their charge that morning. The man had a military appearance, bat was in a shockingly tattered and neglected condition, with scarcely any shoes to his feet. While his chest was being attended to he gave the doctor a brief history of himself. He said he had graduated as a B.A. at Trinity College, Cambridge, and as a proof of his classical education he gave quotations from Virgil and Homer, and challenged the doctor to a competition in mathematics. He said his grandfather was once a governor-general of the forces in India, and he himself had held a commission in the army. His mother was a handsome and, he regretted to say, gay woman, and, following the example of his parent, her son had led a life of pleasure, and now, instead of being, as he once was, in receipt of a yearly income of £1,500, he was in the pitiable plight of being without home, money, or friends.
A fast young man
A fast young man! He is a lovely picture to some eyes. He leads the fashion. If anything is stirring in the neighbourhood where mirth and laughter, songs and revelling can be found, he is conspicuous amongst those who attend. If anything is carried on that needs a greater stock of impudence than is common with men he can always command it. He is a fast young man. He is fast in acquiring habits that old debauchees take years in arriving at. He is fast in learning slang phrases with which his speech is spiced. He is fast in breaking loose from home restraints at an age when every sensible young man values a fathers counsels and a mothers prayers. He is fast in leading others, not so far advanced as himself, into mischief, debauchery, and vice. He is fast in polluting virtuous hearts, and in bringing desolation into once happy homes. But there are other things in which he is fast. He is fast in sowing the seeds of disease in his constitution, and inducing premature old age. He is fast in driving out the forms of virtue from his soul, and in filling up their places with the filthiest forms of sin. He is fast in getting ready for the condemnation of God, and is fast in going to perdition! (W. G. Pascoe.)
When he had spent all there arose a mighty famine
The fruits of sin
What ate the fruits of sin? We see in this parable, and we know from our experience of human life, what the sinner himself thinks of it. He looks upon it as an assertion of liberty. Now, we are called upon in these parables to contemplate our Lords view of the same subject. He shows us in all three of them that sin has a kind of liberty which does not belong to the life of holiness; but He shows us also that this so-called liberty is no true liberty, and He reminds us that it leads to misery, destitution, and the most degrading bondage.
I. THE WASTEFULNESS OF SIN. We can easily see how extravagance, heedlessness, and idleness waste mens temporal possessions. We cannot so easily discern the wasting of our spiritual possessions. Take first the effects of sin in the bodies of men. This frame of ours is a thing far more sensitive and delicate than most of us imagine, and sin often leaves traces upon it which can never be effaced. The sins of the flesh do visibly waste a portion of that substance which God divides to man. But there are ravages committed by sin which, however naked and open they may be to the eye of Him with whom we have to do, are not easily discerned by the eye of man, especially by the eye which is itself clouded and discoloured by sin. Sin, in all its forms, is a waster. In its more decent and respectable forms it may produce less apparent desolation, and yet the work of destruction may be as surely carried on. There are many things lost from a mans soul of which he has little knowledge until some startling revelation is made unexpectedly, or the light of Gods truth and Spirit shines in and illumines the inner darkness. The corrupting and blighting of the affections, the hardening of the heart, the destruction of that tenderness of conscience which is one of mans strongest safeguards, the weakening of the will, so that it loses its power of resistance to evil, the lost appreciation and enjoyment of the innocent pleasures of life, the utter inability to find any satisfaction in higher and better things--this is a fearful enumeration, and yet it is but a portion of the loss which is sustained through the ravages of sin. No tongues or pen can describe it, for no heart of man can know it.
II. THE SERVITUDE OF SIN. One should suppose that the sense of misery, arising from the destitution of sin, would drive the suffering sinner to the place of penitence and to the throne of grace. And so it sometimes does. But frequently the reverse happens. Such is often the awful deceitfulness of sin. Nay, such is oftentimes the awful deceitfulness of sin, that those who have reaped its bitter fruits have turned from one evil to another, in the hope of effacing the results or the remembrance of previous transgression; or else, and perhaps this is commoner, they have descended to deeper depths of sin, have gone the whole way that it was possible for them to go, have drunk to the very dregs the cup of misery and death, in the mad hope that life and happiness might after all be found within it. And thus have men sunk down into that awful condition in which, instead of using their passions as instruments for self-gratification, they have been governed and controlled by them. For a time they were their servants, but now they have become their masters. It is a bondage which is only too common, although sometimes its chains are unseen. In some cases, it is plain and clear and undeniable; in others it is disguised and often invisible. Take the case of the man who is addicted to excessive drinking. I have seen men who were amiable, accomplished, fascinating, fall under the power of this demon. I have seen men, the superior of their fellows in intellect and energy, who seemed to be made to rule over men, become themselves the slaves of intemperance. And slavery and bondage are the right expressions to apply to their condition. I have seen the most frantic efforts made to escape from this tyranny. The shame, the misery, the ruin which flowed from it had been pressed on the mind of its victim by a friend. Be a man, he aid to the poor crouching slave. Be a man. Stand up. Assert your freedom, as a child of God. Seek His grace, which will not be withheld from you, and by the power of that grace you will arise and beat down this enemy under your feet. And courage returned to the trembling heart; and the man who had lain prostrate under the throne of this idol summoned up new strength, collected his energies, and resolved to fight the battle over again, and win it by the help of God. And sometimes it has been done. And sometimes, alas! it has not been done.
III. THE DEGRADATION OF SIN. It was enough, one might think, that the free son should become a bond slave. No! He must be taught all that was involved in slavery. He was sent into the fields to feed swine, unclean beasts, which it was a degradation for a son of Abraham to have anything to do with; and there he was fain to fill his belly with the husks which the swine did eat; for no man gave him better food. It is the lowest depth reached at last. It is a picture of men serving divers lusts and pleasures; and, awful as it is, it does not exceed the truth. Many of us play with sin, trifle with it, not knowing what it is. Like the playful tigers cub, it has not gained all its fearful strength, and manifests but little of all its latent savage character. If we could follow it in its fearful descent, and see how it sinks deeper and deeper in the mire of shame and infamy, we should realize more clearly what is meant by the degradation of sin. What fruit had ye in those things of which ye are now ashamed? asks St. Paul, well knowing what the answer must be. Sin is the parent of shame. (W. R. Clark, M. A.)
The sinning soul a sufferer
The soul was made for God, and for delight in God. Sin prevents this end, and therefore there must be suffering and loss.
I. IT MUST BE A SUFFERER. It caries within a torment which the poet has pictured under the figure of twin serpents. Sin may be awhile alone, but it is sure to bring forth suffering.
1. Because God is what He is. He cannot deny Himself. Warmth excludes its opposite, cold; light its opposite, darkness; and life, death. God, being holy, must be an active opponent to sin.
2. Because man is what he is. Conscience only applauds right-doing, but bites back--in remorse for sin committed. A chaplain was preaching in India, when a deadly cobra crawled into the aisle. It was despatched without interrupting the service. Passing out after meeting, a native struck his foot against the head of the dead reptile. Instantly he cried aloud in agony, for an envenomed fang had pierced his flesh. Remedies were unavailing, and he soon died. So the memory of sin is like a poisoned fang in the breast.
3. Because of the necessity of law. Stanley never could have led his band of barbarians across the dark continent had he not subjected them all to stern, rigid law. One of them murdered his fellow. It was right that he should receive two hundred lashes, and be chained till delivered into the hands of proper authorities. Gods righteous law has its penalties. Penalty is suffering.
4. Experience teaches that a sinning soul is a sufferer. It is always so in the long run. Byron.
II. THE KIND OF SUFFERING.
1. It is want. Sin must starve the soul, as the plant pines for sunshine and cannot live on candle-light.
2. Friendlessness.
3. Slavery. The dominion of habit was illustrated in Robert Burns, who said that he would go for a jug of whisky, though it were guarded by one who would surely shoot him in the act--for, said he, I could not help it.
4. Degradation and utter loneliness. In the Sistine Chapel is a picture by Angelo, which paints a victim in the grasp of a fiend. Yet the fangs in his flesh are not so tormenting as is the mental anguish which the loss of heaven occasions. This absorbs his whole thought. (W. Hoyt, D. D.)
A mighty famine
Extravagance soon brings the noble to ninepence, and in the far country it is not far that nine-pence will go. But there may be so mighty a famine and so great, that even the noble will not buy the loaf of bread. One of the most pitiful incidents in the history of British genius is the death of Chatterton. We by no means quote it as a case of riotous living; but it will illustrate the want which comes over the spirit when other resources fail, and the Fathers house is far away. When a mere boy of seventeen he had passed off, in the name of an ancient English monk, poems of his own, with the archaic style so admirably simulated, and the historical allusions so adroitly managed, that for a time many clever men were taken in, and surmised no forgery. Elated by the success of this imposture, and conscious of no common powers, from Bristol he came up to London. There he promised himself a career of fame and fortune; and as he visited the theatres, and watched the grand equipages floating past, he saw in no distant vision the day when his verses should be in the mouths of men, and when the doors of the lordliest saloons would open to the poet. But the fame was slow in coming, and meanwhile the money failed. Hampered by no restraints of conscience, he made up his mind to pass himself off for a surgeon, and get appointed to a ship; but before he could carry his unprincipled scheme into execution, he found himself quite penniless. Heaven send you the comforts of Christianity, he wrote to a correspondent; I request them not, for I am no Christian. Bitterly boasting his disdain of Christianity, and his independence of it, he fell back on his own resources, and a fortnight after, a jury brought in a verdict of felo de se on a strange self-willed youth found dead in his little room in Brook Street, Holborn. He cared not for the comforts of Christianity, and so when the mighty famine arose--when editors no longer cared for his effusions, and when the frauds and figments of years began to collapse--with hunger in the cupboard, and with heartless Muses staring at him sohard and stony--the trials which in a Christian bring out the mettle and make the man, in the case of poor Chatterton left no resource save arsenic and impotent anathemas on human kind. Reverting to the riotous living: not only does it exhaust the worldly substance, but by exhausting health and spirits, it destroys the power of enjoyment. Poor as are the joys of sense, it is a stupid policy which would distil into a single cup every pleasure, and in one frantic moment drain it dry. Where life and reason have survived the wild experiment, the zest of existence is gone, and waking up to a flat and colourless world, fastidious and fretful, blasted and blase, in a frequent loathing of life and a general contempt of mankind, the voluptuary carries to the grave the sins of his youth. The Most High has so constituted the mind of man that the indulgence of the malevolent affections itself is misery; and of all the paths which at lifes outset invite the inexperienced traveller, the surest to pierce through with many sorrows is the path of sensual indulgence. It is a vain attempt--
With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,
With aught but moral excellence, and truth, and love,
To fill and satisfy the immortal soul.
But you are not mocked by your Maker. Those great and glorious objects exist for which He has given you an affinity, and towards which, in their most exalted intervals, the highest powers in your nature aspire. There is truth, there is goodness, there is God. There is the life of Jesus recorded in the Book; there is the spirit of God now working in the world. Ponder that life till, associated with a living Redeemer, it shines around your path a purifying protecting presence. And pray for that spirit, till under His kindly teaching you taste and see that the Lord is good--till expanded affections find an infinite object--till He who has thus strengthened your heart is become your portion for ever. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
The degradation
Snow quickly melts when the thaw comes; and a fool and his money are soon parted. I have heard of people who had suddenly succeeded to a legacy which they had not sense to keep; and who, indeed, were not sober till all their money was exhausted. Such a rapid race did this young rake of the parable run.
I. THE FAMINE. Ills, the proverb says, never come singly. That he had reached the bottom of his purse was bad enough! but, to make matters worse, at the same time there arose a mighty famine in the land. In ancient days a failure of the harvest spread dearth and death all around, even as, a few years ago, the famine of Orissa, where the same Oriental mode of life continues, left millions of-corpses on the arid plains of India. Thanks to our commercial connection with the ends of the earth, and the abolition of our Corn Laws, it is not likely that such a lack of the staff of life will ever be felt within our borders again, as our forefathers have experienced in their day. The effect produced upon our young masters circumstances was immediate--he began to be in want. What a transition from fulness to emptiness--from wasteful extravagance to absolute inability to obtain the necessaries of life! Now he would begin to wish that he had some of the golden guineas back again which he had so recklessly thrown away, and that he had husbanded the large resources which had been so unsparingly placed at his command. The prodigal hungered; but he did not at this stage think of returning to his father. Some transgressors take less of chastisement and grief to melt them down, and others more. He seems to have been specially hardened. He was too proud to go back yet. So he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country.
II. This is the second point to which we call attention in this chapter: THE FEE. A few days ago, in this city of my habitation, a larger number than usual of agricultural people were So be seen in our streets, for it was the hiring market for the next half-year. Hundreds who came into Glasgow in the morning, not knowing who their master was to be, or where their residence might be situated throughout the summer, during the course of the day came to know these important facts--important, because their destiny for good or evil might be largely influenced by the event. Poor things! as I saw many of them the worse for liquor, I thought they did not seem to be in a very fit state for forming a cool judgment, or for departing to their new homes. Doubtless some of them met with good masters, and some of them with bad ones. Some of them will rejoice in the decisions of the day, and bless their good fortune; whilst others will bitterly regret the same, and call their lot misfortune. Which things are an allegory. Christ is the good master; and Satan is the bad master. Christ may be called the Illustrious Stranger, who has come into our world to rectify its wrongs; while Satan is the citizen of that country, who has been in it from the first and has done it much evil.
III. THE FEEDING. Feeding! thats good news. He will be reconciled to his servitude, if only his wants may be supplied. But, alas! the feeding is not of himself but of others--and these others he would rather not have fed--He sent him into his fields to feed swine. This is another dexterous touch of the painter. No occupation could possibly have been more degrading than this in the eyes of Jews, since they regarded swine as ceremonially unclean. It is written in Lev_11:7, And the swine, though he divide the hoof, and be cloven-footed, yet he cheweth not the cud; he is unclean unto you. Nor was this feeling of aversion towards these animals peculiar to the Jews; for Herodotus tells us that in Egypt swineherds were not permitted to mingle with civil society, nor to appear in the worship of the gods, nor would the very dregs of the people have any matrimonial connection with them. Truly now our young master would be stripped of his pride. A poor, ragged, outcast, hungry swineherd! Satans nobility sit on bad eminences. His peers are known by their deeper degradation.
IV. THE FASTING. He would fain have filled his belly with the husks the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him. The word in the original (keratia)
does not mean, properly speaking, what we understand by husks, which are the outer integuments of fruit, but designates a leguminous fruit called in modern language the charub tree, which still grows in the South of Europe, the islands of the Mediterranean, and the North of Africa. It is sometimes called Johns Bread, from the tradition that it was the food used by John the Baptist during his wilderness life. On the beans of this tree the horses of the British cavalry were fed during the Peninsular war. It would appear that the famine which is referred to in the parable raged so severely that both man and beast were put upon short and spare allowance. In the fields, and when watching his unclean flock, the poor outcast would willingly have supplemented his own scanty meal by eating the raw, coarse fruits which the swine consumed; but no man gave unto him. He was not allowed to appropriate their portion. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Touch iron
A minister from a distance was preaching one Sabbath, in the parish church of St. Monans, in the last century, who did not know the strange superstitions of a fishing village. He was discoursing with tolerable fluency on the parable of the Prodigal Son. When he came to the words, and he sent him into the fields to feed swine, he thought that he heard a sudden and simultaneous murmur over his congregation, accompanied by an equally sudden and simultaneous movement. The explanation was that the sow is an unlucky animal among the fishermen, as it was unclean among Jews; and the murmur, which the astonished preacher heard proceeding from every lip, was Touch iron--for iron they regard as a charm against the harmful word; while the movement he observed was the effort of each individual to put his finger on the nearest nail in the woodwork of the old church--a murmur and a movement which were repeated much to his consternation, as in the sequel of his exposition he, all unconscious of his mistake, used the dreaded word. A good story, doubtless, to be told at a tea-table, or at a bright fire on a winter evening--and ministers, it is to be feared, by their frailties and mistakes, affordamusement now and then to curious and critical neighbourhoods. But whether the tale be an exaggeration or not, I wish to turn the table upon the story-tellers, and consecrate it to the service of Christ. Yes; ye who have sunk so low in the service of Satan, that he has sent you into the fields to feed swine--Touch iron; extend the finger of faith to the blessed nails of the cross, and, more potent than fabled talismanic charm, they will raise you to the dignity of the sons of God. Do you complain that your nature is bad--that as soon a lion might be expected to become a lamb, or a swine--Touch iron; yea, reach hither your hands and thrust them into his side, and Gods Spirit will give you clean hearts and right spirits. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Dearth; or pain the end of sinful pleasure
The end of sinful pleasure is pain, the wealth of worldlings ends in fearful want. As the image which Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream had an head of gold, but feet of clay; so the glorious show of this miserable life of sinful men concludes with shame. The plenty which Egypt had in seven years was eaten up by the seven years of famine following it. The pleasant river of Jordan is at length swallowed up by the salt sea, or loach of Sodom. (Bishop Cowper.)
Famine makers
Such men help to bring about famines, men who eat all and produce nothing, men who are consumers and non-producers. These are the men that make famines. (J. Parker, D. D.)
Sin costly
The service of sin is a costly service; all the portion of goods thou hast is not sufficient for it. (Bishop Cowper.)
Religion no waste
Wilt thou abide with the Lord, and serve Him? He shall teach thee to use His gifts to His glory and thy good; for the service of the Lord is easy, honourable, profitable, nothing is wasted, nothing is lost, that thou spendest in it. (Bishop Cowper.)
The folly of extravagance
To how much the portion of goods amounted which the younger son took with him we are not told; nor are we told how long it lasted. But once it is in the hands of a spendthrift, wonderful is the speed with which money disappears. As paragons of senseless profusion, Dante has handed down the names of Stricca and his companions, who sold their estates and bought a princely mansion where they might spend their days in revelry. Their horses shoes were silver, and, if one came off, the servants were forbidden to pick it up; and, with like disdain of mean economy throughout, the united fortunes lasted only twenty months, and they finished off in the utmost misery. The Sienese spendthrifts have been often distanced in our living day; and the low taverns along the Thames, where our sailors waste their hard-won earnings--the hotels of Melbourne and San Francisco, where successful diggersfool away in a flash of riot the gold for which they have toiled so long, after a coarse and vulgar fashion could parallel the wildest waste of Heliogabalus or Lucullus. More remarkable than the speed with which the money disappears is the small satisfaction which it yields. If, like George Heriot with the kings acknowledgment, you had put the bank-notes on the hearth, and sent them flaming up the chimney, they would have left you far richer than those you have spent on reckless companions and riotous living. If, like Cleopatra, you had dissolved a pearl--if you had put together the income of years--all that has been spent on self-indulgence--perhaps in enticing others into sin--could you have put it all together, and, like the queenly jewel, dissipated it in dust and air, we might have been sorry for the idle sacrifice, but the wasted money would not have wasted you. Cleopatra had another pearl, the gift of peerless beauty. That gift was perverted and it hatched a serpent; it came back into her bosom--the asp which stung her. So with the possessions of the prodigal. Talents laid up in a napkin, pearls melted in vinegar, will benefit no one; but rank, fortune, health, high spirits, laid out in the service of sin, are scorpion-eggs, and fostered and fully grown, the forthcoming furies will seize on the conscience, and with stings of fire will torment it evermore. (James Hamilton, D. D,)
Money all gone
It takes a great deal longer to make money than to spend it. Although it is only a little while since this young man got one-third of his fathers property, it is all gone--every cent of it. So you have known men toiling for twenty, thirty, forty years in commercial or mechanical life, have acquired large property, to lie down and die, leaving a great estate; and in five years the boys have got all through with it. So this young man of the text and his money was soon parted. I do not know just how it went, but there, in the first place, were his travelling expenses. A man who had been brought up as luxuriantly as he evidently was, from the surroundings of that home, could not lodge just anywhere, nor be contented with plain fare. He had been used to see things on a large scale, and I do not suppose he closely calculated the expense. I do not suppose he always stopped to take change. I suppose that sometimes he bought things without any regard to what they cost. Then, besides that, there came in the bill for his personal apparel, and a young man who had a third of his fathers property in his pocket could not afford to go shabbily dressed, and so he must have clothes of the best pattern and of the finest material. Besides that, the young man of the text had to meet the bill for social entertainment. He must treat, and it must be with the costliest wines and the rarest viands. Besides that, the sharpers found out that this young man had plenty of money, and they volunteer their services. They will show him the sights. They can tell him things ha never imagined away off on that fathers homestead. Well, they undertake to show this man the sights, and after a while he wakes up one day and he says, I think I will count my money. And he counted his money. It was half gone; but as his habits were thoroughly fastened upon him he could not stop. After awhile he counted his money again, and it was three-fourths gone; but he was on the down grade, going swifter and swifter and swifter, until, when he comes to look for his money, it is all gone. Now, these associates, who stuck to him as long as he had plenty of money, are gone. Morning-glories bloom when the sun is coming up, not when the sun is going down. There is no money with which to meet his expenses. Besides that, the crops have failed, and there is famine in the land, and at a time when affluent men are straitened about getting their daily bread, what is to become of this poor fellow, with an empty pocket and a discouraged heart? Oh! you say, let him work. He cannot work. His hands, soft and tender, would be dreadfully blistered with toil. Perhaps he comes then to some place where he can get occupation, he thinks, appropriate for an educated young man. He comes to a commercial establishment and asks for work. No, says the head man of the business firm, we cant have you. Why, you are nothing but a tramp of the street. Perhaps he comes to the office of some official of the government, and seeks employment by which he can support himself. No, says that officer, a man clad as you are cannot find any employment in my office. What is he to do? In a strange land. Money all gone. No friends. Ragged. Wretched. Undone. My text with one stroke gives the awful full-length photograph: He began to be in want. Now, what does all that mean? It means you and me. Our race had a good starting; but we all went away from God, our home, and we have found sin to be an expensive luxury. It despoiled us. It hungered us. It robbed us. It made us hopeless and godless. We had a fine spiritual fortune to start with, and we spent it, and we began to be in want. I care not how fine our worldly estate may be, or how much bank stock we may possess, or how elegant our social position, sin has pauperized the whole race, and until we go back to God, our home, we are in an awful state of beggary and want. There is no exception to it. (Dr. Talmage.)
The beginning starvation
There is something very ominous in that expression, He began to be in want. It was only a beginning of want, but it was the pressage of starvation, and brought along with it the forecast of an agonizing death. Let me ask you to put side by side this expression and another, in which the same word occurs just at the end of the parable--They began to be merry. Surely both the parallelism and the contrast are alike instructive. Want begins when we wander into the far country, and joy begins when we find ourselves restored to the Fathers house; but the want is only the beginning of want, and the joy is only the beginning of joy.
The want must go on, becoming more and more cruel and tormenting as the mighty famine increases, while the merriment, the spiritual mirth of that happy day which fixes our choice upon our Saviour and our God, develops into the quiet and calm but deeper and fuller happiness of a life in which the soul feeds on Christ, rejoices in the Lord, and joys in the God of his salvation. Indeed, do not these contrasted sentences suggest to our minds the thought that heaven and hell have their commencements here on earth, to whatever each may develop hereafter? For heaven is that condition of existence that is induced by the satisfying of the soul in God. As yet our heaven is incomplete, for the satisfaction is not yet full. Only when we wake up in Gods likeness shall we be saris fled fully; but even here we are possessed of the secret of satisfaction, and when the sense of want arises we know where to turn to find what our spirits need. And while our joy in this satisfaction comes very far short now of what it will be, yet is it in kind, though not in degree, identical with the very joy of heaven. We have begun to be merry. The chief cause of the joy is the same, whether it be felt in heaven or on earth; its source is the same, and its character is the same. It is the very joy of God in the heart of man. And hell has its commencement here on earth in the restlessness and inanity of the godless life, and in the weariness and dissatisfaction of the godless heart. As fleeting pleasures and visionary acquisitions pass away, as one broken cistern after another falls to pieces, as sorrow casts its shadow on the home, as failure embitters our experience or success disappoints us, the want increases; and the pain and sorrow of that want are the same in kind, though not in degree, as that which falls to the lot of the lost under the sentence of doom; for hell is a want that cannot be satisfied, and a loss that cannot be repaired. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A)
In want
I have seen, sitting shoeless and shirtless on a cab, joining himself to the driver, if haply he might get anything out of him, a young man who bad inherited a large fortune, who had been in the same classes with me at school, and had sat as a student for the ministry on the same benches with me at college. I have visited in yonder prison, where he was under sentence of six months imprisonment for stealing a watch, which he had pawned for drink, a man who was an M.A. of a Scottish University, and who had been Principal of a college in a foreign land. I have had, as a beggar at my door, a man of my own age, brought up in the same street with me, who had squandered a large patrimony in such courses as I have described; and as I saw the grey hair of his premature old age streaming in the wind, and beard him call me by the old familiar name of my boyhood, as he besought me for assistance, I could not but think of these words, And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in the land, and he began to be in want. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
Feeding swine
In the days of the Regency there was a man much envied, and in the ranks of fashion his influence was paramount. It was not that he was a statesman or a hero, a thinker or a speaker; but, as far as an outsider can make it, he was a gentleman. His bow, his gait, his dress, were perfection: the Regent took lessons at his toilette; when peeresses brought out their daughters they awaited with anxiety his verdict, and no party was distinguished from which he withheld his presence. Very poor padding within, heartless and soulless, the usual sawdust which goes for a dandy, by infinite painstaking and equal impudence he scrambled into his much envied ascendancy, the arbiter of taste, the director of the drawing-room, the leader of the great army of beaux and butterflies. Then came a cloud. The prince withdrew his favour, and, of course, the princes friends. His mysterious wealth suddenly took wing, and means which he took to recover it sent him into life-long exile at Calais and Caen. He had no God. His God was the sunshine--court-favour, the smiles of the great and the gay. The instant these were withdrawn the poor Apollo butterfly came fluttering down, down into the dust, and never soared again. It was all in vain that old acquaintances tried to keep him out of debt and discredit. With no gratitude, and with little conscience, and with only that amount of pride which makes the misanthrope, he begged and borrowed on all sides, at the table dhote glad to get a bottle of wine from some casual tourist by telling stories of old times, and unable to cross the threshold when his only suit of clothes was in process of repair. The broken-down exquisite began to be in want, and, when borrowing a biscuit from a grocer, or a cup of coffee from a kindly hostess, he may have remembered the days when he lavished thousands on folly, the days when he was the favourite guest at the palace. Truly, it was a mighty famine, but it did not bring him to himself. It only alienated from mankind a heart which had all along been estranged from the living God, and gave frightful force to his cynicism. Madame de St. Ursain, as he said to his landlady, were I to see a man and a dog drowning together in the same pond, and no one was looking on, I would prefer saving the dog. And whether it be Richard Savage, whose riotous living at last imbrued his hands in anothers blood, and then landing him in the debtors prison, left him to be buried at the cost of the kind-hearted gaoler; or Emma, Lady Hamilton, passing like a meteor through foreign courts, and making wise men mad with brilliancy and beauty, then cast off by society, and from a sordid lodging carried in a deal box to a nameless grave; or men like Beckford, who, spending prodigious wealth in self-idolatry, have lived to find that the idol was not worth the worship; by cases which it would weary you to quote, we might show how invariably, if there be but time to work out the legitimate sequel, separation from God ends in desolation and sorrow. We might show how often the wayward child, who would not sit contented at the Fathers board and eat the childrens bread, has ended at the stye, and been fain to clutch at husks which the swine do eat. And from the nature of the case, as well as the Word of God, we might show how inevitably the far country becomes a waste and homing wilderness, and how, soon or late, the soul which there abides must die of hunger. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
Husks
The husks that the swine did eat are familiarly known as the pods of the Ceratonia siliqua of Linnaeus. It is a noble tree, stretching all along the southern points of the shores of the Mediterranean, and sometimes farther northward, from Spain to Palestine. Greece and Cyprus are the most favoured places, but southern Italy is beautiful with these trees. The foliage is dark green--evergreen; the pod is thick, and filled with a viscous, sweetish sub stance, from which is obtained a very useful dibs or molasses, which is often made to take the place of a similar product from the grape. These pods are to be seen now and then for sale in New York and Philadelphia. The smaller merchants often ridiculously call them locusts and wild honey, with about as much reason, and with just the same mistake, as those who call them St. Johns bread. The pod is thickish, and generally breaks up when dry, the pieces still holding the beans; not dropping them out as peas are dropped. The kharub bean can scarcely be shelled--except when fresh, and then not easily. Not only the beans, but the pods themselves, are an article of food for both beast and man. They are exported to Europe and America, and ground up to serve many purposes of food, and perhaps adulteration. One may look over the newspaper lists of arrivals of vessels at Constantinople, and often see that by far the greater number of vessels were loaded with kharub beans or pods, and most of them from Limassol in Cyprus. To be sure these vessels are very small, and one large steamer has the capacity of a hundred of them; but in numbers these kharub cargoes appear to lead the list in Constantinople. The identity of the fruit of the kharub-tree with these husks does not depend upon the Greek alone of the New Testament, but in the Peshitto Syriac rendering, the Syriac and Arabic names of both tree and fruit, and the tradition of the country which has kept the name. In Spain the same Arabic name is still retained, together with the article attached. In Italy the same name exists, though the writer oftener heard it pronounced carroba than carruba. In Arabic the accent is on the last syllable. As given in the English dictionaries, its pronunciation has departed about as widely from the original as the information they give has departed from completeness. They lay it down as carob. That, however, is more pardonable than the manner in which most English-speaking Hebraists abandon English coincidences with the true Shemitic pronunciation to adopt the mistakes of Germans, or the substitutes which Germans adopted for letters in cases where they could not frame to pronounce it right. Linnaeus doubtless named the tree Ceratonia siliqua in order to combine both the original Greek and the Latin Vulgate translation. The former is keration and the latter siliquis. With regard to this food as characteristic of the prodigals present or former condition, no great stress can be laid. Poor people eat it now; in Philadelphia it is sold as a sweatiness to the little boys. It is not likely that the young man found such faro at his fathers table. The talmudic proverb, however, says, When the Israelite must eat rejected food, then he comes to himself. But they have two other proverbs of great beauty in this connection. The first is: The doors of prayer are sometimes open, sometimes shut; but the doors of repentance are ever open. The other is: No sin resists sorrow and penitence. (Prof. Isaac H. Hall.)
Pretty near to the husks
Vice-Chancellor Blake, of Toronto, in an address at the Mildmay Conference, June 21, 1882, said:--A young man came to our city some six or seven years ago, the son of a clergyman. He had been a neer-do-weel, and had been sent, as so many are sent, abroad, because you can do nothing with them here. He was taken up by the Association; one of the members took him, and kept him at his house for six months. To-day that young man stands as the head of a principal undertaking in our Dominion. I dont wonder that his mother wrote a letter from Italy, where she was living, to say that if the broad Atlantic did not separate us, she would come to thank us for what our Association had done for her son. Another instance. A young man went to the Southern States, a distance of two thousand miles from our city, and the secretary of our Association wrote and said, You will find so-and-so in your city; look him up, and see if anything can be done for him. He was so low down that, although the son of wealthy parents, he was found in one of the fish-markets cleaning fish. Young man, said the delegate who found him, you have got pretty near to the husks. Yes, said he, I have; it was painted very bright as I entered, but I find it a very dark and miserable place where I have got to. Do you want to leave it? I do. Are you determined to make a struggle? Yes. Then come to my warehouse, and I will give you a place. I will expect you at my Bible-meeting every afternoon, and you will come and take a seat in my pew at church. I will, he said. At our great Sunday-school Convention last year in the city, where we had delegates by the hundred, that young man came as one of the delegates sent up from that town in the United States.
Eating the husks
How often do young men break away from the wholesome restraints of home and of religious society, promising themselves peculiar enjoyment in pursuing their wayward fancies, dreaming of wealth, of fame, or flattering themselves with the delusive idea of a good time in some vague adventure! In the journal of a soldier belonging to the 72nd Regiment of the English army, published at the close of the last general continental war, an instance of this occurs. The writer of the journal had been induced, in hopes of a life of pleasure, to enlist, and to forsake his quiet and respectable home, greatly to the grief of his parents. A few years afterwards, he was, when serving in the Peninsula, glad to be allowed to eat of the biscuits which he was employed to break for the hounds of the commander-in-chief, at a time when provisions were scarce. I ate them with tears, he said, and thought of the prodigal. (A. G.Thomson, D. D.)
Vain efforts of the soul to find satisfaction
The soul of man is a clasping, clinging soul, seeking to something over which it can spread itself, and by means of which it can support itself. And just as in a neglected garden you may see the poor creepers making shift to sustain themselves as best they can; one convolvulus twisting round another, and both draggling on the ground; a clematis leaning on the door, which will by-and-by open and let the whole mass fall down; a vine or a passionflower wreathing round a prop which all the while chafes and cuts it; so in this fallen world it is mournful to see the efforts which human souls are making to get some sufficient object to lean upon and twine around. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
The worlds treatment of its votaries in time of need
The prodigal of whom we are speaking sought the companionship of the world. He courted the pleasures of the world; he lived for the world, and he spent his all upon the world. Is he singular in this? Have you not done the same? I speak not now of the world of business, of commerce and trade; I speak not now of this moving panorama of daily life that surrounds us; I believe even in that respect I might also speak of the unsatisfying nature even of the world of business, but I speak not of that now: I speak of the world of sin--the world, as alluded to in that text, Love not the world, neither the things of the world; for if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. The world very cunningly allures you by its pleasures; is that an inducement sufficient to lead you from your Fathers home? Then I ask you, I catechise you to-day, What means that aching of the head, and that aching of the heart, and that surfeit and disappointment, which are so generally the accompaniments of those who follow after the so-called pleasures of the world? Do those pleasures satisfy you? Or will they ever compensate you for the loss of a Fathers favour and of a Fathers countenance? The world calls off the allegiance of many from the King of kings; the world lives on your substance while it lasts, and it sucks out no small advantage from many a prodigal. But then, when you, poor sinner, have spent, or rather misspent, all your golden opportunities, when you have lavished all your hopes of heaven, when you have bartered your heavenly birthright for an earthly mess of pottage, what next? Having cast your precious pearls before swine, be sure they will turn and rend you; and the world that once flattered you is now the first to forsake and forget you. Tell me, is that a reward worth living for? Is that a fate worth leaving your home to purchase? Is that a destiny worth putting yourself to so much trouble to attain? How much better the choice of Moses--choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; or the experience of David--A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand--spent in the world and in the things of the world, and in sin and in the pleasures of the world: I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness. And oh! prodigal, let it never be said of you, that you have subsided to the lowest level of sin, that you prefer to abide in the tents of wickedness, as did the prodigal. (R. Maguire, D. D.)
Unsatisfied desires
Who will give to the hungry heart of man, whose appetite will not, cannot, be put off with husks, whose desires are so infinite, whose yearning is so unutterable? Where shall we look to satisfy the craving of that spirit made to be filled with all the fulness of God? Who will give to him? Shall we appeal to the gaudy, painted world, with its brief pageant, its short-lived joys, its aimless tumult and hubbub? What has Fashion to give her votaries and her victims? A delirious dream, a momentary intoxication, a giddy whirl of social and animal excitement, and then the bitterness and the heartache as this unsubstantial feast of Tantalus passes from us, and leaves us as empty as ever. But the heart wants something more than a masquerade, something more than toys and gewgaws, with which for a little season grown-up children may disport themselves--something more than the sights and sounds that please the eye and ear for the moment, only to leave the real man still unpleased, as he asks impatiently, Is this all? Is this all? And still the dismal record remains, And no man gave unto him. To whom shall we appeal? Can Mammon do nothing for us? Surely never was deity served with greater devotion by his devotees than day by day is lavished on him. Will he do nothing for our spiritual hunger? Ah, my brethren, the value of money is what it will fetch, and if it wont fetch us true satisfaction, or peace, or hope, or moral dignity, what the richer are we? Can the human spirit digest gold, or assimilate it to its mysterious substance? The rich fool in the parable seemed to indulge some such delusion, but he only proved his folly by doing so. So little can Mammon do for our real happiness, that we are in the habit of distinguishing the most devoted of his worshippers, the very high priests of his shrine, with the title of misers, implying that they are of all men the most miserable. The indignant heart declines this mockery of its desire, and still the mournful sentence remains true, And no man gave unto him. Where shall we look? Shall we fall back upon the charms of literature and art, and satiate our senses in the hope of ministering to our spirits? Here we meet with some encouragement from some of our modern teachers, who will have us believe in no heaven save a picture-gallery or a concert-room, and in no Deity save high art. And some would have us think that Nature is our true foster-mother, and that the satisfaction denied elsewhere is to be found in prying into her secrets and examining her hidden mysteries. These are noble dreamers, these hierophants of art and science; and perhaps they come the nearest of answering our demands. Yet even here we only find disappointment. The wise man was right when he said, All things are full of weariness; man cannot utter it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing. These things please us most in early days, when first with youthful enthusiasm we begin to worship the beautiful or to investigate the curious; but there is something m man more divine than taste and more profound than curiosity, and this higher element in man neither art nor science can reach. I dont know how it is, said a distinguished art critic, a man of the highest culture and refinement, and one who had possessed for the greater part of his life every facility for aesthetic enjoyment in his circumstances and training--I dont know how it is, but now, in middle life, art no longer affects me as it once did. There was once a keen joy that I would be conscious of in perusing a beautiful poem, or in looking at a really good picture, which I cant get up now, however much I may try. I cant work myself by any effort of my will into anything at all like the enthusiasm that once seemed quite spontaneous. I cant say I get much enjoyment out of art now; its more a business than a pleasure. Still even in these higher regions, visited only by the few, and where we might expect that the mighty famine would be less keenly felt, it remains true, And no man gave unto him. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
When he came to himself
The prodigal repenting
I. THE PRODIGAL COMES TO HIMSELF. He had, as it were, been all abroad; he had not been really at home in any sense; he had not been looking at himself, nor studying himself, nor thinking of his real condition and his real want. Those interests which were really his highest, and which he should have felt to be his highest, he had never for a moment set his thoughts upon. All that he should have cared about he was quite careless of; unobservant, ignorant of that which was really his good. We speak of a man being out of his mind; we speak of a man coming again into his right mind; and these familiar expressions of ours may very well serve to help us to see something of the depth of meaning here--He came to himself. The mind which, as it were, should have been at home, roams abroad. So it was with this man: his mind, first in wild enjoyment, and then in despairing expedient; himself first clad in all sorts of gaiety and gaudy robes, and then clad again in rags; at one time in the haunts of sensual pleasure, at another time in the gloomy caves of woe: now intoxicated with the very delights on which his soul was set, now again obstinate and morose. The mind of his at last came home--He came to himself; and then it was, when he came to himself, that the great reality broke upon him, and he saw what was the truth at the time, and what had been the truth before. Then his real condition was apparent to him, and all his sadness stood up before him, firm, and stark, and stern, so as to terrify him. And then he could not but contrast the state of things in which he was, and the condition of things which he well knew existed at home--How many hired servants of my fathers have bread enough and to spare!
II. THE PRODIGAL RESOLVES. Of all the ways in which he had hitherto gone, he now finds that none is the right way, particularly that way of all others which he first chose for himself, the way which led him from his fathers home, the first way in which he ever put his feet. But now he sees that there is only one certain way of peace and hope; that there is no way like this--the way that brings him back to his father. Therefore he determines to go and to confess the whole--to make a clean breast of the whole--to cast himself upon his fathers mercy, to be taken back upon his fathers terms, and upon no terms of his own--Make me as one of thy hired servants: give me even the very lowest place at thy feet; only receive me home. It is impossible, I think, to agree with the opinion of some, that in this expression, Make me as one of thy hired servants, there is a lurking pride. Some suppose that in this expression he purposes to work out his restoration. It is quite clear, however, that this explanation is quite contrary to the spirit of the gospel, and therefore cannot satisfy the words of the parable. The force of the passage is not in the words, Make me as one of thy hired servants; that is only thrown in to heighten the effect. The force of the petition lies in the words, I am no more worthy to be called thy son. Only take me home; only let me find my place near thee, in thy service, and I am content to have any terms whatever, even though I be as one of thy hired servants. And it is even thus that the Spirit of God leads an awakened sinner to his Fathers home on high; it is even thus that He pursues His work, when, having convinced the man of sin, He goes on to convince him of righteousness. The sinner is brought to the first real state of true awakening of heart and conscience; the sinner is made to see what he is; he comes to himself; and then, by the gracious teaching of the Spirit of God, there pass over him similar feelings to those which filled this younger sons mind, and then he says, I will arise, and go to my Father, and will say unto Him, I have sinned against heaven, and before Thee; and so he feels that there is no need now for him to abide where he is. There may be, indeed, fears; there may be doubts; again and again these will arise; but there is an ever-urging impulse of the Spirit of all grace upon his conscience and upon his heart to take up the words so often, but, alas I so vainly repeated by hundreds of us--I will arise, and go to my Father.
III. There is yet a third stage--THE STAGE OF ACTION. It is of the first consequence that action should follow resolution. In any case, if a man makes a resolution that is worth anything, the sooner he puts it into action the better; and, of all the characteristics which call out admiration, this is above all others-decision; and the man who knows not only how to decide, but how to act upon his decision, is the man whom others most approve; that is the man to deserve our confidence, and the man to get it. And therefore the Lord draws a perfect picture, not simply of an awakened man, but of a man that feels pressure; not only of a man who resolves that something must be done to relieve this pressure, but one who gets up and does it; a man who acts; a man who knows how to do that which he has resolved to do--He arose and came to his father. Yes, there was hope for him. He felt that of all places where he was likely to find peace, his fathers heart and his fathers bosom was the place where he would find most. (C. D. Marston, M. A.)
The prodigals conversion
I. THE CAUSES OF THE PRODIGALS CONVERSION. First, affliction, bodily and mental. He suffered from hunger, from hard treatment, from base ingratitude of former companions, and from a deep consciousness of his most degraded condition. How naturally true is all this. How it perfectly accords with the experience of all without exception who sell themselves to the world! We do not say, that many profligate and worldly-minded men do not for a season prosper in their career. No, on the contrary, for a season their path lies undisturbed by any piercing sorrow or harrowing disappointment; but, notwithstanding this, a time does really come when the most reckless and the most indifferent feel the bitterness of the vanity they have courted, and taste with loathing the dregs of an existence they have worn out, wasted, and exhausted in the service of the prince of darkness. Secondly, a return to reason, and to a consciousness of his real state and condition, was another cause in operation with the prodigal. When he came to himself, it is said; so that before this time he was not himself. He was the slave of others, the slave of his own passions and pursuits, and thus he was not himself in the freedom of one who is impelled and influenced by the best and noblest feelings and faculties of our human nature. He was like one in a dream, apparently acting as a sane and wakeful man, but in reality not so. Or he might be justly considered as acting the part of a maniac--that part specially which throws up health, life, home, and all the dearest bonds of enlightened intelligence and parental fondness, for a passing shadow, for a bubble glittering momentarily on the very stream which breaks it, for false hopes which rise only to bewilder, mislead, and destroy, and, in short, for a small section of time at the cost of a bright immortality. Thirdly, another cause is found in the exercise and influence of memory. The poor prodigal goes back in thought to the home of his father. He said, How many hired servants of my fathers have bread enough, and to spare. He remembers the days long past, when he was surrounded with every comfort, and when every association of his earlier days was hallowed by a fathers love and a fathers care. What a contrast does his present miser able state offer to that of a former period! Well, and it is still by the power of memory that men turn their thoughts and affections towards God.
II. THE RESULTS.
1. Here we discover, in the first place, decision of purpose. The young man does not halt or waver in his opinions. He is fully alive to the folly and sin of his former course of life, and now he is determined upon a change. And observe, this decision is absolutely necessary in the case of all who would become members of the household of Christ. There must be a steady and fixed determination to withstand every inducement to return, and to pursue the object set before the mind through every difficulty. The journey may be long and dreary; its pathways may be rugged and steep, full of pressing dangers on the right hand and on the left. Storms may await you m your passage, and many a lurking foe may dodge your footsteps on their weary march; but the purpose to return to God must remain unchanged; firm as the mountain summit, which still points heavenwards, whether the sunlight robes it in reflected grandeur, or whether the thundercloud clothes it with darkness, and the lightning scorches it with flame.
2. We observe another result in deep contrition of heart. The review of a past dissolute and thoughtless career produces in the awakening mind a humiliating sense of wrong and insult offered to the kind and tender father of an ungrateful child. And who so kind, and merciful, and loving as the Father of heaven and earth? And who so ungrateful and rebellious as the children of men? These are great truths recognized, acknowledged, and felt with the deepest humility by every sincere and honest-hearted disciple of the Saviour. (W. D. Horwood.)
The madness of sinners
It is related in the life of Colonel Gardiner, that, after his remarkable conversion from a course of irreligion and debauchery to the fear and love of God, and a conduct agreeable to the gospel, it was reported among his gay companions that he was stark mad, a report at which none who know the wisdom of the world in these matters will be surprised. He therefore took the first opportunity of meeting a number of them together; and after having defended a righteous, sober, and godly life, and challenged them to prove that a life of irreligion and sensuality was preferable to it, one of the company cut short the debate, and said, Come, let us call another cause: we thought this man mad, and he is in goad earnest proving that we are so. Perhaps there are few among the irreligious and licentious part of mankind who would make so flank a confession; yet if we take our notions of things from the dictates of unprejudiced reason and the Word of God, we shall be sensible that this sentiment is true, that religious men are the only persons in their right minds, and that all the rest are in a state of miserable distraction.
I. EVERY UNCONVERTED SINNER IS A MADMAN, OR BESIDE HIMSELF.
1. He does not use his understanding as he ought.
2. Further, he acts contrary to the nature of things, his own professed judgment and true interest (Ecc_9:3). Madness in general, as one observes, means such an extravagant deviation from the common apprehensions and actions of men, as discovers either the want or total disorder of some of the principal faculties which men daily exercise in common life. Now vice is the same deviation from the established constitution of nature, and the same violation of its laws, as madness is of the ordinary practice of mankind. As in a natural lunacy, there are oftentimes intervals in which the unhappy creature is himself, and seems for a time well, so it is in this moral disorder. Sinners are sometimes under strong convictions of the misery of their state; are sensible of the necessity and excellency of true religion, and accuse and condemn themselves for neglecting it; and for a while they act rationally, but soon return to folly. The distraction appears again; they grow worse than before, and forget their wise acknowledgments and good resolutions.
3. He is averse to the proper methods of cure. In many cases of lunacy persons will speak and act rationally except upon one particular subject. So it is here. Though with regard to the concerns of this world and his temporal interest he may act wisely and rationally, yet to that which is the one thing needful, the whole of man, and the main concern of an immortal being, he pays little attention. But there is this difference, and it shows the prodigious folly and madness of sinners, that their distraction is voluntary; they bring it upon themselves; they choose it, and love to have it so. Such is the deceitfulness of sin, that when once a man hath devoted himself to it, he generally persists in it against the clearest dictates of conscience, and will call it happiness, though he feels it to be misery, whereas a natural madness is a calamity, not a crime, and the unhappy persons who are affected with it deserve our tenderest sympathy. I observe--
II. WHEN A SINNER REPENTS AND RETURNS UNTO GOD HE COMES TO HIMSELF. So the prodigal in the text. His necessities brought him to himself. He thought and considered, received and returned to his father. And his father received him safe and sound, as it is expressed (Luk_15:27). (J. Orton.)
The resolution
I. In the first place, we have brought before us THE TRUE CONDITION OF THE SINNER SO LONG AS HE IS AWAY FROM GOD. When he came to himself: that implies that in some very real sense he had not been perfectly himself. Generally, commentators have supposed that the reference here is to insanity, and they tell us, with perfect truth, that the sinner is m some respects like a madman. He follows delusions as if they were realities, and he treats realities as if they were delusions. His moral nature is perverted, just as the lunatics intellect is beclouded; and, in regard to duty, he makes mistakes similar to those which the maniac makes in ordinary matters. So he may well be styled mad; but there is this solemn difference between him and the ordinary lunatic, that while insanity cancels responsibility, the sinner is not only blameworthy for his moral perversity, but his responsibility continues in spite of it. Although, however, there are thus many interesting and striking points of resemblance between the condition of the maniac and that of the sinner, I am not sure that the coming to himself, in the verse before me, suggests the being beside himself, as the condition out of which he came. Equally it may imply that he was beneath himself, or that there was in him a certain unconsciousness, out of which he required to be roused before he could be thoroughly himself. When, for example, one has fainted away and recovers, we say that he has come to himself again, implying that his consciousness has returned. Now, in my view, this is the preferable way of looking at the analogy of my text. The moral nature of this poor youth was virtually dead. His conscience had become seared, so that he was, in a manner, unconscious that there was such a faculty within him. It was there, but it was asleep. It was there, but it was so precisely as the intellectual nature is in a man when he is in a faint: it was inoperative, it was not consciously possessed by him. At length, however, roused by a sense of his degradation, it awoke, and then he came to himself. Very much in the same way the sinners higher nature is dormant in him.
II. But we have here, secondly, THE CHANGE OF THIS CONDITION--he came to himself. A new light broke upon this youth in the midst of his darkness. He saw things as he had never before perceived them. Not till now did he discover the guilt and issue of the course which he had been pursuing; and never in his past experience had his fathers house seemed to him so precious. For the first time since he left his home, he awoke from the dream his life-long fever gave him, and things as they were stood unveiled before him. Now, so it is with the sinner. His conversion, too, is an awakening. New thoughts stir within his soul; new feelings vibrate in his bosom. He begins to see what before had been to him almost like a landscape to a man born blind. It is not that new things are called into existence outside of him, for all things are there as they were before. It is rather that his eyes have been opened to see them, and the wonder of his whole subsequent life is that he never saw them till then. He perceives now the danger in which he stands, and recognizing the ability and willingness of God to help him, he cries, like Peter, sinking in the waters, Lord, save me; I perish.
III. But it is time now that we should consider THE PRODIGALS REFLECTIONS ON COMING TO HIMSELF. They were twofold--having regard, first, to himself, and, second, to his fathers house. In reference to himself, he said, I perish with hunger. Now, as I said in the outset, there was distinct progress here. Never before had this youth allowed himself to think that death by starvation was to be the issue if he remained in the far land, but so soon as that shaped itself to him clearly, he took his resolution to arise. It is the same with men and their return to God. I believe that if we could narrow down the choice of the sinner to one or other of these two alternatives--everlasting destruction, as the consequence of guilt, or eternal salvation, through faith in Jesus Christ--we should have no difficulty in impelling him to decide in the right direction; but because he persists in believing that there is some loophole left him through which he may escape, even if he should not accept salvation through Christ, he continues indifferent to the statements of the gospel. Awake, O sinner! to the danger in which you stand. If you continue as you are, there is nothing but destruction before you. But the prodigals reflections had reference also to his fathers house. He said, How many hired servants of my fathers have bread enough and to spare! Bread!--once he thought of greatness and wealth, now, however, he will be content with bread--yea, if he could only have what many a time he had seen his fathers servants lay aside as not required by them, he would be content. There was enough at home, if he were only there. Now, similarly, the sinner, in conversion, comes to the persuasion that there is plenty for him in God. If you ask how this is brought about in him, I answer, by his belief of the statements of the gospel, for it is here that we must bring in the doctrine of the Cross.
IV. I dare not conclude without noticing, however briefly, THE RESOLUTION TO WHICH THOSE REFLECTIONS LED. I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. Make me as one of thy hired servants. This youth determined, there and then, to go back to his home, not, however, in a dogged, sullen spirit, but in a thoroughly penitent disposition. He blames no one but himself; he resolves to make a full and frank acknowledgment of his folly; and now, instead of claiming anything as a rightful portion, he is willing to be treated as a servant. Now, taking this as representing the sinners repentance, one or two things need to be noted, as suggested by it. In the first place, there is an unreserved confession of sin: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee. He does not soften matters, and speak of his faults or his failings. He does not say, in a self-extenuating way, I have been a little wild; but he puts the plain truth forth in all its hideousness, I have sinned! Neither, again, does he cast the blame on others. His language is, I have sinned; the guilt is mine. I have no wish to evade it, or explain it away. I am ashamed of myself. Yet, once more, the enormity of his wickedness before heaven is that which most distresses him. He had brought many evils on himself. He had inflicted great injuries upon others; but that which most burdens him now is that he has sinned against God--the Father who has done so much for him, and has even, after all and above all, sent His Son into the world to make atonement for his guilt. This is painful to him in the extreme, and he can do nothing but weep over it, but his tears, in the estimation of God, are of more value than the glittering diamond, for they tell Him that He has found at last His long-lost child. This is true penitence. This is the contrite heart which the Lord will not despise. But, looking again at the resolution before us, we find in it a determination to personal exertion--I will arise! The prodigal did not wait till some one else should come and lift him and carry him to his home. Finally, here, this resolution was promptly acted upon--He arose and went to his father. Just as he was, all tattered and filthy, he went back. He did not say, looking at his garments the while, I cannot go this way; I must wash myself, and change my raiment, and then set out. Had he mused in that fashion, he would probably never have returned; but he went as he was. So, in conversion, the sinner gives himself back to God just as he is. He does not seek to make himself better. He delays not to work out for himself a robe of righteousness. He waits not even for deeper feelings, or for more intense conviction. He puts himself into Gods hands, sure that, for Christs sake, He will make him all that he should be. Such as I am, he says, take me and make me such as Thou wouldst have me to be. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
The madness of sin
He came to himself. This implies his former mad and insane state. The sinners condition is one of madness.
I. MADNESS IS THE DERANGEMENT OF THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS.
II. IN MADNESS PASSION RULES INSTEAD OF REASON.
III. MADNESS IS CONNECTED WITH STRANGE DELUSIONS.
IV. MADNESS WILL BE PROVED BY THE OBJECTS OF CHOICE AND REJECTION. A sane person prefers good to evil, safety to danger, etc. A madman has no just idea of things. He trifles with peril, sports with danger, rejects the good, and chooses the evil.
V. MADNESS WILL BE MANIFEST FROM THE CONVERSATION. It is either violent, incoherent, or insipid.
VI. MADMEN ARE UNINFLUENCED BY COUNSEL. How true of sinners! Parents have counselled--My son, if thy heart, etc. Friends have counselled--Come thou with us, etc. Ministers have counselled; the Holy Spirit has counselled, etc. Yet sinners will not hear.
VII. MADMEN THINK ALL OTHERS MAD, SAVE THEMSELVES. Mad infidel, says all believers are mad; mad drunkard, thinks the sober are mad, etc. Worldling thinks the heavenly-minded Christian is mad. Festus, Paul. Even of Jesus they said, He has a devil, and is mad.
VIII. MADMEN ARE DANGEROUS TO OTHERS.
IX. MADNESS IS OFTEN FATAL IN ITS RESULTS. Application:
1. Spiritual madness is self-procured, therefore wilful and altogether inexcusable.
2. Spiritual madness tends to the death of the soul. Eternal woe.
3. For spiritual madness there is one grand efficient remedy, and one only, the glorious gospel of the blessed God, salvation by faith in the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ.
4. The application of this remedy invariably brings sinners to a right state of mind. (J. Burns, D. D.)
Sin as insanity
It is said of the lost son that after he had sunk into the lowest depths of misery and wretchedness he came to himself. These words tell us of the madness of sin. I am sure it is not without reason that we dwell upon the thought.
I. And, in doing so, I am not forgetting the objection, not altogether an unreasonable one, THAT IT IS OFTEN DANGEROUS TO LINGER OVER EVIL AND THE THOUGHT OF EVIL. There are morbid, diseased, scrupulous consciences, we may be told, which will never be rendered healthy by brooding over sin; and, besides, it is better for us to be gazing up into the clear blue sky of Gods holiness and love than to be bending over the foul, seething, poisonous cesspool of sin--And yet, on the other hand, we shall never escape from the power of sin until we obtain true views of it. And then, with regard to the other suggestion, it is indeed far better, in all ways, that men should raise up their heads into the pure atmosphere of Gods presence, and gaze upon the light of His holiness, rather than hang over the fumes of evil and corruption; but, alas I men do hang over these, do keep looking down into the fermenting, putrefying mass of evil without knowing its true character, and are continually inhaling its noxious, deadly vapours. It is only when they are thoroughly convinced of their pestilential character that they will withdraw from their influence and seek to breathe a purer atmosphere.
II. Now, let us ask this question seriously: ARE WE ALL OF US, OR EVEN MANY OF US, DEEPLY, SOLEMNLY IMPRESSED WITH THE FEARFUL, DESTRUCTIVE, DEADLY CHARACTER OF SIN? In order to answer the question, let us for one moment glance at those general features of moral evil which have already been brought before us in this parable, and then ask what evidence is found among us of that hatred and loathing of sin which its real character should produce.
III. SIN IS MADNESS, FROM WHATEVER POINT OF VIEW WE REGARD THE SUBJECT. There are different phases of insanity. There is raving madness, there is melancholy madness, there is the insanity of mental imbecility, there is monomania, the madness which is excited by one particular subject, whilst on all other points the mind is calm and rational. The mere mention of these forms of insanity will bring to your recollection corresponding forms of sin. You will think of the raving madness of unrestrained anger and violence of temper, or the frenzy of the drunkard; you will think of the solitary brooding over secret sin; of the foolish, irrational, inexplicable sins into which men allow themselves to be led; of the one besetting sin which oftentimes mars a character which were otherwise of exceptional and surprising excellence. Or, again, let us ask what are the signs by which we satisfy ourselves that the mind has lost its balance, and we shall find that these have their antitypes in the lives of sinful men. We say, for example, that a man is insane when he has a weakened or perverted judgment, so weakened and perverted that he is unable to discern between truth and falsehood, between right and wrong. Another sign of insanity is found in the subjection of the will to uncontrollable impulses--when its free action is so impaired that a sudden gust of passion, of anger, or of fear, or of any other passion, carries the whole man before it as a feather is carried by a blast of wind. Or, again, among the signs of insanity we reckon a liability to illusions respecting ones own condition and circumstances, or regarding those by when we are surrounded. Once more, not to draw out the subject too tediously, we say that a man is mad when, in the conduct of his life or in the management of his affairs, he neglects the known and ordinary principles of human action. Every one of these signs is to be found among those who are subject to tim dominion of sin; not every one in all of them, but one sign in one and another in another, just as it is among those who are the victims of insanity.
IV. If any think that the language of exaggeration has been employed, or if any would desire to see still more clearly the true character of sin, I will ask them TO CONSIDER THE REMEDY WHICH GOD IN HIS WISDOM AND LOVE PROVIDED FOR THE DELIVERANCE OF MANKIND. It was nothing less than the incarnation and sacrifice of the eternal Son of God. God spared not His own Son, but gave Him up freely for us all. How sore, then, must have been mans need, how terrible his malady, when no less remedy was thought sufficient by our Father in heaven! Let those who think lightly of sin, of its true character and of its effects, turn their eyes to Calvary, contemplate the Son of God agonizing and dying, and then let them consider the explanation of that which He endures: He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed. I think, my brethren, that no one who duly considers what is involved in words like these will ever think or speak lightly on the subject of sin.
V. And here it is my duty, as it is my privilege, to offer AN EARNEST REMONSTRANCE WITH THOSE--AND THEY ARE NOT A FEW--WHO SEEM TO THINK BUT LITTLE OF THAT AWFUL MALADY WITH WHICH ALL MEN ARE MORE OR LESS AFFLICTED, AND UNDER WHICH MANY ARE NOW SUFFERING AND DYING. And let me remind you that there is no real cure for the madness of sin, there is no true remedy for this monster evil but that which sows in our hearts the seeds of holiness, as well as sheds upon our conscience the sense of pardon. The mere repression of evil, even if it were by itself possible, would be altogether insufficient. It is not enough to cease to do evil; we must learn to do well. We must not only forsake the service of the world and the devil; we must become the servants of God and of Christ. (W. R. Clark, M. A.)
Gaming to himself
History tells us that during the reign of Queen Elizabeth the Spaniards once unjustly imprisoned some English subjects. No reasoning or expostulation could induce the Spanish authorities to release them; when our queen, finding all other means had failed, lost all patience, and sent a peremptory message declaring that if the imprisoned English were not immediately liberated her fleets and armies should know the reason why. The threat accomplished more than all the previous remonstrances, for at the mention of fleets and armies the captives were immediately released. It is often found that one stroke of the rod will bring men to their senses sooner than all the reasoning which can be urged. They can afford to be stubborn and perverse so long as their persons are secure; but the first smart of a reversed fortune will make them yield to all your arguments. So it was with the prodigal. By the swine troughs he came to himself.
I. THE PRODIGALS MADNESS. Strange as it may seem to some, it may be proved to a demonstration that every unsaved sinner under heaven is a madman If you saw a river bursting its banks, and while the flood rushes over meadow and lawn, bearing everything before its fury, also saw a man, who, perceiving its approach, begins to clap his hands and laughs in high glee, making no effort to escape from the impending destruction, would you not deem that man mad? If you saw a snake coiling round the body of a man, and although he well knows that it will crush him in a short time, strokes the glittering thing, and, absorbed in admiring its speckled scales, makes no effort to extricate himself, would you not think him mad? If you saw a beggar sitting on a dunghill, with rags covering his body, some broken pottery on his head, and a thorn-stick in his hand, and shouting to all who passed that he is a king, his rags imperial purple, the broken pottery his diadem, and the thorn-stick his sceptre, would you not also deem him mad? Or if you saw men seeking with all the ardour of their nature certain ends by such means as in the nature of things could not possibly ensure success, or wasting their time on the most trivial matters, while their most important concerns are unattended to, would you not deem these men beside themselves? And how do sinners act? In common with all mankind they want peace and safety, and they seek them in the things that are passing away. They want an abiding refuge, and they take shelter in a world that every day is drawing nearer to its doom.
II. THE PRODIGAL RETURNING TO HIS SENSES. He came to himself. He went away that he might find himself; but the farther he went from home the farther he went from himself. Self was only found when he resolved on finding his father.
1. The first evidence of the prodigals returning to his senses is his stopping calmly to consider. The great want of sinners is reflection. But blinded by drink, or lust, or avarice, or deceived by pride or imaginary goodness, they heed not the cry of the charmer, charm he never so wisely. In their devotion to the pursuit of their glittering baubles they are deaf to the solicitations of wisdom; they will not consider. Reflection is the window which lets the light of truth in upon the soul, that its real wants may be discovered; is the friendly hand that plucks the child from danger when the house is on fire; is the voice of wisdom that checks the power of passion, and points to the path of peace. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Consider your ways: There is hope of a man as soon as he begins to consider.
2. Another evidence of the prodigals returning to his senses is, his forming a right resolution. I will arise, and go to my father. (W. G. Pascoe.)
A minds transition
So rooted is the hearts enmity to God, that man must often be driven, as by the blast of a tempest, to submission and to duty. The prodigal must suffer beneath want, and shame, and abandonment before he thinks on his ways, and turns longingly to the house of his Father. How often is it that the consequences of crime--the disease, the misery, the remorsefulness which wait upon the track of sin, though in themselves sequences of a purely natural law, are used of God as means to impression and salvation! You must not suppose that the mind of the prodigal came at once, in sudden revulsion, from heedlessness to serious thought, and from obduracy to tender and softened feeling. There would be, in all probability, in accordance with the laws of mental working, several preliminary stages. The earliest feelings would still partake of the character of resistance and rebellion. An awakened conscience, that is not pacified, only exasperates into more audacious rebellion. Many a man, whom shame has only maddened into more frantic resistance, walks the earth to-day a moral Laocoon, stung in a living martyrdom by the serpents which in his bosom ledge. It is hardly credible how much, not only of human sadness, but of human sin, has sprung from the souls first passionate recoil against detected criminality, or blasted reputation, or enforced penalty, or stained honour. When remorse scourges, it is not, like Solomon, with whips, but, like Rehoboam, with scorpions; and the intolerable anguish of a wounded spirit has prompted to many a deed of violence, from which, before his passions were hounded into madness by a guilty conscience, the man would have shrunk with loathing and with horror. Oh, when evil passions and an evil conscience seethe in the same caldron, who can imagine or create a deeper hell? The sullen despondency with which the prodigal would strive to reconcile himself to his fate would mingle with oft-repeated curses pronounced upon his adverse destiny, rather than his own folly. But all this was but the swathing grave-cloth out of whose folds the new man was to rise--the gathering of the dark and angry cloud which was soon to be dissolved in showers, and on whose bosom the triumphant sun would paint the iris by and by. That ever-present Spirit who strives with men to bring them to the knowledge of the truth was doubtless all the while at work up-n the prodigals heart; and when He works, out of the brooding storm come the calm and the zephyr of the summer-tide--out of the death of enjoyment the rare blessedness which is the highest good--out of the death-working sorrow of the world the repentance which is unto life eternal. We know not precisely how the change was effected from the hardness of heart, and contempt of Gods word and commandment, to the softening of thought and contrition. Perhaps the Divine Spirit, wrought by the power of memory, thawed the ice away from the frosted spirit by sunny pictures of the past--by the vision of the ancestral home--of the guileless childhood--of the fathers ceaseless strength of tenderness--of the spell of a living mothers love, or of the holier spell of a dead one.
I. A TRANSITION FROM MADNESS TO REASON. All the habits in which the sinner is wont to indulge answer to the habits and delusions of those who have been bereft of reason, or in whom it has been deposed from its rightful government of the man. Madness is rash and inconsiderate action--action without thought of consequences. The madmans hand is suddenin its violence; the madmans tongue shoots out its barbed arrows; he is reckless of the slain reputation, or of the murdered life; and is not like rashness a characteristic of the sinner? Little recks he of his own dishonour, or of the life that he has wasted in excess of riot. He goes heedlessly on, though his every step were up the craters steep, and mid the crackling ashes. Madness is mistake of the great purposes of life; the employment of the faculties upon objects that are contemptible and unworthy. Hence you see the lunatic intently gazing into vacancy, or spending hours in the eager chase of insects on the wing, or scribbling, in strange medley of the ribald and the sacred, scraps of verse upon the tornout pages of a Bible. And are there not greater degradations in the pursuits which engross such multitudes of the unconverted? When a sinner comes to himself he blushes for his former frenzy; he feels himself a child of the Divine; he feels himself an heir of the eternal; and, looking with a strange disdain upon the things which formerly trammelled him, he lifts heavenward his flashing eye, and says, There is my portion and my home.
II. There is a transition, again, FROM PRIDE TO SUBMISSION AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT. In his former mood of mind he only intensified his own rebellion, and was ready, doubtless, to blame circumstances, or companions, or destiny, or anything rather than his own wickedness and folly. All things have conspired against me; never, surely, bad any one so hard a lot as I. I might not have been exactly prudent now and then, but I have done nothing to merit such punishment as this. I will never confess that I have done wrong; if I were to return to my father, I would not abate a hairs-breadth of my privileges; I would insist--and it is right, for am I not his son?--upon being treated precisely as I was before. So might have thought the prodigal in his pride. But in his penitence no humiliation is too low for him--no concealment nor extenuation is for a moment entertained; with the expectation, not of sonship, but of servitude, and with the frank and sorrowful acknowledgment of sin, he purposes to travel, and to cast himself at the FEET OF HIS FATHER.
III. A TRANSITION FROM DESPONDENCY TO ACTIVE AND HOPEFUL ENDEAVOUR. There is not only the mental process, but the corresponding action--the rousing of the soul from its indolent and tormenting despair. This is one main difference between the godly sorrow and that consuming sadness which preys upon the heart of the worldling: the one disinclines, the other prompts to action; the one broods over its own haplessness until it wastes and dies, the other cries piteously for help, and then exults in deliverance and blessing. There was something more than fable in the old mythology which told of Pandoras box--a very receptacle of ills made tolerable only because there was hope at the bottom. In every true contrition there is hope. (W. M. Punshon, LL. D.)
Coming to ones self
We may interpret this as we use the term familiarly, as where a man is out of his head, out of his mind, and we say when his reason is restored that he has come to himself again. Or, when a man comes out of a swoon, he is said to come to himself, by which is meant, simply, that he comes to the possession and use of faculties that for a time were clouded, or hindered in their operation. You may also use it in a broader sense; and it is thus that I propose to use it. It may be made to throw much light on the course which men are pursuing at large--even those who do not indulge in passionate excesses, and in the wallow of the appetites. It is proper that we should determine what a mans manhood is; what it is that is man, in man. Not everything. There is a difference between men and the animated creation, a part of which they are. And it is not fair to attempt to determine our manhood by the things which we have in common with the ass, with the ex, with the lion, or with the serpent. We must rise higher than the things which are possessed by these creatures, in order to find out what manhood is in man.
1. Looking at it in this light, the first thing that I will mention, as discriminating men from every other part of creation, and as constituting a portion of their true manhood, is their reason--and that in two aspects.
(1) First, let us consider it as a governing light and power. I believe the superior animals have the germs or rudiments of reason. There is no question that the dog does, in a very limited way, reason, and that the elephant does, and that the horse does. And that reason in these animals is of the same general kind as the human reason, I do not doubt. But it is very limited, very low, and only occasional.
(2) The other view which we are to take of reason, is that by its force we are able to prophecy. That is to say, experience does lay a foundation by which a man may judge from the results of certain causes to-day what will be the results of those causes to-morrow. For instance, if last year, sowing, we derived such and such results, we prophecy that if we sow this year, we shall derive the same results. And this it is which distinguishes between the human and brute reason more significantly than anything else.
2. The next constituent element of a true manhood is moral sense, or a constitution by which the soul recognizes moral obligations, from which, by a comparison of the performance of our life, measured by obligation, we come to understand the qualities of right and wrong; to accept a higher standard of obligation than mere self-will, or than mere self-indulgence and pleasure. There is no evidence that animals ever have a conception of right and wrong.
3. Then we have one more characteristic--a spiritual nature--an endowment of sentiments which inspire the idea of purity, of self-denial, of holy love, of supersensuousness. It is in this higher range of faculties, thus very briefly, compendiously defined, that a man is to look for his manhood.
You are a man by as much as you have this particular part developed. You are less than a man just in the proportion in which you recede and shrink from this kind of measuring. Since ones manhood, or his true self, is to be found in his nobler attributes, and in his true spiritual relations, he who leaves these unused, and lives in the lower range of faculties, may be truly said to have forsaken himself. He has gone down out of himself into that which was a supplementary nature, an auxiliary part. He has left that nature of reason, and that nature of moral sense, and that nature of spirituality, which constitute his manhood, and has given himself up to the range of the senses. And that is the way the bird lives. That is the way the brute creation lives. He and they alike live for the gratification of the appetites and the passions. It does not require that a man should become an assassin, or a mighty criminal, before it can be said that he is unnatural. Every man that teaches himself to find the chief employments and enjoyments of his manhood lower than in his reason and moral sentiments and spiritual nature, has forsaken himself. Every man whose business is manual and physical, and who contents himself with that business, and feeds himself by nothing higher than that, is a creature that is spending his life forces lower than the level of true manhood. Take a step higher. Do you live habitually, in your ordinary affairs, in your social intercourse, in the things that you seek and the things that you avoid, according to the dictates of your moral sense? Are you conscious that you bring to bear upon your conduct the great moral measurements, the rights and the wrongs, that have been determined by the holiest experiences of the best men of the world, and have come down to us in the records of Gods Word, as Gods best judgments expressed through such experiences through thousands of years? Do you live in accord with them? Are you uniformly generous, uniformly unselfish, uniformly true? Is your life straight? Is your path from day to day a line drawn as true as a rule could draw it? Are you right-eous, or are you unright-eous? Measure your life by this higher moral sentiment. Is there a man who does not know that his life will not bear any such measurement as that? Every man says, There is not a faculty that, when it acts, does not act crookedly. Take any single one of your feelings and watch it for a single day, and you will find it to be so. You are living below your true manhood. It is only once in a while that you come to yourself. You do once in a while. When a truly eminent Christian man dies, and the sound of life is for a short time hushed, all your better feelings lay down their warlike feathers, and there rises up in your soul a consciousness, an ideal, of what you ought to be, and how you ought to live, for a single moment, it may be, or a single hour. I have seen men come over from their business in New York, to attend the funeral of a brother--of some eminent Christian--and shed tears in this house. When, for instance, Brother Coming was buried, I saw hard-faced men cry. And I know what we should hear such men say if we could listen to their conversation as they walk away on such occasions. Dear brother, says one, we have been working for money; but that is not the main thing. It is only a little while that it can do us any good. That is true, says another. We must die soon. It will not be long before there will be just such a funeral for us. And are we ready? And so these two men, greyhaired, it may be, very simple and very much in earnest, give expression to their feelings as they go down to Fulton Ferry. And as they cross over they say to themselves, I will think of these things, and try to carry the impression of them with me. But when they go up the street on the other side they meet this man and that man, and their minds are distracted from these serious thoughts; and when they get back into their counting-room they forget all about them. They did think they would tell their wives all about it when they got home at night; but when, at the supper-table, they were asked, Husband, did you go to the funeral to-day? they said, Yes. Was it a good funeral? Very, very. That was all they had to say about it! And yet they had had a revelation. They had come to themselves, though it was but for an hour. (H. W.Beecher.)
The dawn of better things
He came to himself. He never had come anywhere to so good a purpose. He had come to a far country and gained much knowledge at a very, very dear rate. He had come to strange doings, and seen strange characters, whose face it had been a mercy never to have seen. He has seen the world, and some of its mysteries of iniquity, and paid dearly for it; but now, at length, he comes to himself. He had always been a stranger there, unwilling to converse seriously with his own proud, flattering, deceived heart. Sometimes, in such cases as this, a young man cannot communicate with his friends; letters are intercepted, communication cut off. One of Satans plans is this, to put a barrier to prevent the prodigal coming to himself. No prisoner was ever so vigilantly watched--none so guarded with high walls, and gates, and bars, and spikes, as the sinner, to keep him from coming to himself. He is worked hard, he is deceived, he is blinded and led astray; he is kept from church; his Sundays are desecrated; his Bible taken away, or left unread; while bad books are laid on his table, and greedily devoured. Every avenue seems blocked up by which the prodigal might come to himself. Come now to himself, let us hear what he thinks and speaks to himself about. How many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I here perish with hunger. The first thing that now stands, like a spectre, in the chamber of his dark and troubled mind, is the long-excluded image of his father. There, thought he, far, far away, there is my father; his house, once my home, enriched with every comfort; and the servants, hirelings as they are, yet not a want have they that is unsupplied; and his own son, in this place, perishing with hunger! The recollection comes home fresh and vivid to his minds eye; he sees them all again. And then, looking round on the sad reality of his dreary desolation, his strength failing from hunger, he is touched and humbled by the contrast--I here, in this wretched country, perish with hunger. There is the picture of an awakened sinner. God be thanked for this. He is at length come to himself. The dream is broken. Why, says he--why should I sit here to starve? I will arise and go to my father. Do you ask me whence came that godly purpose? I answer, from the Friend of publicans and sinners. It was no spontaneous resolution that sprung up of itself, among the better purposes of that young mans nature. No, no. Sinners do not repent and turn to God in that fashion of themselves. Let us give the praise to whom the praise is due. No man can come to Me, except the Father, which hath sent Me, draw him. The sense of his wretchedness drew him--his dread of perishing--the tender recollections of his fathers love, and his well-known mercy--the desire springing up in his heart, and the hope of pardon springing up in his breast- these are the drawings of the Fathers grace, and these prevailed to bring his godly purposes to good effect. (W. B. Mackenzie, M. A.)
The prodigals madness
He had been under a hallucination. No doubt, if one had charged him with insanity, he would have denied the charge; and if a physicians certificate had been required to prove his soundness of mind, he could easily have got it from one of the far country doctors, who possibly had sat at his table while his money lasted, and freely quaffed his mixed wine; but it would not have been so easy for him to get such a certificate from his own father, or his God. And had not his actions been like the actions of a madman? If you saw a man flinging sovereigns in handfuls into the sea, would you not be disposed to look into his eyes to satisfy yourself as to whether or not the ray of reason had altogether fled away from these expressive orbs? Now, had not this youth virtually done so? And do not multitudes, in our own day and land, at race-courses and in taverns, do the same? But they are amused, you say, and excited at these places of resort. And so is the madman who heaves away the sovereigns. In truth, he puts the shining coins to a much more harmless use than these other maniacs. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Sadness of a lapse after recovery
I heard Thackeray in this city lecture on The Four Georges. With his own peculiar eloquence, he described the sad insanity of George
III. I recollect especially his account of the poor kings transient recovery. Mr. Pitt was sent for. It was a great event. The king had come to himself. The Regency Bill was preparing; but even yet it might not be required. Alas! his sanity was short-lived. For, sitting down at his favourite organ, he played a few notes--stopped--covered his face with his hands-burst into tears--and then reason fled for ever!
Ill hear what God the Lord will speak;
To His folk Hell speak peace,
And to His saints; but let them not
Return to foolishness.
It lies with them to say whether they will return to it or not. The poor king could not help returning to his foolishness, but Christians can. As spiritual insanity, from the first, is voluntary and culpable, so is the relapse into it. Resist the devil, and he and his hallucinations will flee from you. This youth in the parable did not return to his folly again, but to his father. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
A young man come to himself
And when he came to himself. Then he had run away from himself. Precisely. He had not only run away from his father, and his family, and his home; but he had run away from himself, made escape from the voice of reason and of conscience, from his better nature, from all that constituted him a man. No doubt he thought it a very jolly life. Every desire was gratified; every passion had its festival of pleasure. But, of course, this could not last long. If you unhook the pendulum of a clock, the works will go fast and merrily, but they will soon run down. Presently his money was spent; his capacity for pleasure blunted; his character gone; and then the reaction came. The man was famishing. It was not only food he wanted, but the hunger of home was upon him, the yearning for sympathy, and respect, and love; and this brought him to his senses; the prodigal came to himself. What is it for a young man to come to himself? In common everyday life the expression is variously used, but always denotes that the person has come to better judgment, or to a fuller use of his faculties, than before. I need not say, however, that the expression on the lips of our Divine Lord has a broader and more serious meaning. A man may be perfectly calm in temper, clear in head, and vigorous in body, and yet never have really come to himself. He may never have apprehended where his real manhood lies. There is a great deal that we have in common with the lower animals: and, whilst you keep to that plane--so long as you live merely for your baser appetites and passions--so long as all you do is simply to sleep, and walk, and eat, and drink, and toil because you must toil, you have not yet come to yourselves, as reasonable, moral, and spiritual beings. For there are mainly three things in which man is distinguished from the brutes; and it is by these, and not by what he has in common with them, that his life should be inspired and his actions governed. I say that a man truly comes to himself only when the grand motors of his conduct are reason, conscience, and the indwelling Spirit of God. When is it generally that a man comes to himself? Ah I let this story tell. When he gets into trouble. When he has spent all, and begins to be in want, and no man gives unto him. I dont mean to say that it is only under such conditions. Thank God, no. There have been men sitting here, with every earthly thing to make them contented, and God has made this pulpit a bow from which He has shot an arrow straight to the centre of their heart, and the arrow was never pulled out till they could call Christ their own. Your sister wrote you a serious letter, and dropped it into yon village post-office far away; it was moistened with tears, and perfumed with prayers; and when you read it you clean broke down and fell on your knees; and since that hour you have been another man. The delicious memory of those Sabbath evenings in your country home, ay, maybe twenty years ago, when in the gloaming (for the candles were scarcely needed) you all gathered round, and old father put on his spectacles, and opened the big well-worn Bible, and mother had the youngest on her knee, and you all read verse by verse, and said your catechism, and then sung a psalm together; I say, the memory of this has chastened you amid the follies of this great city, and made you thirst for purer streams than the giddy world can yield. But, as a rule, it is by some trouble or sorrow that God brings a man to himself. Many a man has come to himself under the blow of some crushing bereavement. Yes; all the sermons in the world would not move him; all our arguments failed to make an impression. But one day there came to him a stealthy preacher without notes, and that pale preacher was Death; and when he saw his bonnie little sister lying cold in her coffin, or the turf laid smoothly over the grave that contained his precious mother, he could stand it no longer; he said, From this hour my treasure and my heart shall be in heaven. And we have had young men here who, like this youth in the parable, never came to themselves till they were in want. You were out of a situation; you could find nothing to do; all your testimonials failed to get you an opening. Some of your friends treated you, as you thought, shabbily. You had letters blowing you up for being unfortunate. You had spent all, and no one gave unto you. Men who used to shake your hand so tightly that your knuckles ached, now gave you but the coldest nod. How next weeks lodging was to be paid you could not see. And then, only then, in the bitterness of your extremity, you flung yourself upon God, and found that you had a Father and a Friend above. Oh, how many never find this out till the day of sorrow comes! A good, pious man met a poor ragged urchin in the street, and, putting his hand on his head, said, My little man, when your father and your mother forsake you, who will take you up? And what, think you, was the wee laddies answer? The perlice, sir. (J. T. Davidson, D. D.)
A sinner brought to his right mind
1. This young man first came to himself with regard to the past. He had thought previously that he was acting sensibly: now he sees that he has been playing the fool. He has been trying all along to persuade himself that he has really been enjoying himself; now he suddenly comes to the conclusion that all the while he has been a stranger to real happiness. He looks at those four, or five, or six years: before, he had plumed himself upon the life he had been leading; now, he scarcely dares to think about it; he hides his face with shame; he buries it in his hands, as he sits there in the field, the hot tears streaming through his fingers. What a fool I have been! What a wretch I have been! What a base ingrate I have been! Good God! wert Thou to strike me down with a thunderbolt of displeasure to the very depths of hell, it is only what I deserve.
2. And he comes to himself with regard to the present. He finds himself face to face with death. Nearer and nearer the grim spectre draws; the bow seems already bent, and the arrow seems already fixed, and in a moment the fatal shaft may fly, and his mortal career may end in doom. Face to face with death--it is an awful thing! He feels it in his own body. That strange numbness that is creeping over him, that sense of mortal weakness, that stupor which has already been paralyzing the senses--what is it? Incipient death. His strength has passed into weakness; he can scarcely totter across the field; his haggard form seems more fit for a sepulchre than for human society. What can he do? Whatever he can do he must do quickly. The tide of life is ebbing fast; a few more hours, and his opportunity will be gone. It is a long way to the country he has left--a long way to his fathers house; if anything is to be done, not so much as a moment is to be lost.
3. And thus it is that he also comes to himself with regard to the future. The future! What can he do? What hope is there for him? Has he not lost every chance, and thrown away every possibility? Nay, it strikes him that there is just one faint ray of hope: it seems a very faint one. Is there a possibility that he may get some relief from his friends in this distant land? No, he has given that up altogether. Can he not find a better master somewhere. No, he has tried all through the famine-stricken country, and this man that has sent him into the fields to feed swine is the best that he can find. What can he do? Can he work any harder? No, he has no strength left to work. Where is hope to be found? Where is that ray of dim, uncertain light coming from? There rises up within his recollection the memory of a peaceful home, of calm, happy days. The bright sunlight of his childhood returns to his memory like a pleasant dream amidst the frightful horrors of his present experience. Could he regain it; could he retrace his steps, and get one more look at that dear old place; could he but sit down amongst the hired servants of his fathers house!
4. My friends, he not only comes to himself with regard to himself, but also with regard to his father: he had taken a wrong view of his father--a distorted view: he had painted him in the most repulsive colours; now he takes a different view of the case, and comes to the conclusion that, after all, he was wrong. He had wronged those hoary hairs. The thought rises in his mind, He loved me; yes, he loved me after all; I saw the tear start into his eye when I left home; he wrung my hand when I went away from him, and his lip was quivering; though I have given him so much trouble, I know he loved me; he was never hard on me: when, as a child, I wanted anything reasonable, it was always within my reach; if I had childish troubles, those kind, fatherly hands were laid upon my brow, and fatherly words of tenderness were spoken in my ear--yes, he did love me; I have wronged him, I had no right to think him hard; he was not hard: I wonder if he is changed; years have passed over him, years have passed over me; I left him with a smiting countenance; I put on my best appearance, and tried to seem as though I did not care a straw for leaving him: perhaps he has hardened his heart against me, and will never look at me again; yet, perhaps--perhaps there is something like love in his heart towards me still; surely he cannot have altogether ceased to love his poor wandering boy. So he starts to his feet, and in another moment the word of resolution has sped forth from his lips, I will arise and go to my father. It is even so with thee, dear awakened sinner. So soon as God begins to awaken thee, He awakens thee first of all with regard to the past. Are there not some of you that are awakened with regard to the past? You used to look upon it with complacency, now you look upon it with horror. You used to think well of yourself, now you cannot speak of yourself too hardly. There was a time when you flattered yourself that, at any rate, you were no worse than other people; now it seems as if you could not invent any epithet sufficiently strong to indicate your horror and disgust at your past life. How is it? You are beginning to come to yourself, too, with regard to your present. You find yourself face to face with death. Spiritual death has already grasped you; its iron clutch is on you; that dread spectre is looking you in the face; you are beginning to realize, in your own terrible experience, the force of those words, Dying, thou shalt die! Do what you will, you cannot writhe out of the grasp of that terrible spiritual arrest. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? And you come to yourself with respect to the future. Is there a possibility that I can be otherwise? May I turn my back upon the past? Is it possible that a sinner like me can lead a new life? May even I become a new creature? Then it is that the soul begins to come to itself with respect to the character of the Father. Ah, my dear friends, you may have maligned Him, you may have slandered Him, you may have allowed Satan to misrepresent Him to your own fancy; you may have conceived of Him as an austere man, reaping where He had not sown, and gathering where He had not strayed. It seemed as though you could not speak too harshly of Him. But all that has changed, and you are beginning to come to the conclusion that after all He is your Father, that He has a Fathers tenderness, pity and love; that although you have misrepresented Him so long, and sinned against Him so grossly, yet there must be something in that heart of His that goes out towards your misery. Ah! my friend, you are only just beginning to come to yourself about that Father: but if you will go a little nearer to that Fathers house, bare your bosom to that Fathers influence--if you will expose yourself to that Fathers eye, it will not be long before you will have a different estimate from what you have even at this moment of what that Fathers love really is. Think not of God the Father as if He were unsympathetic. Believe what Christ Himself has taught of His Fathers love (Oh that I could write it on your heart of hearts at this moment!): God so loved the world that He gave His Son. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
A sinner brought to his right mind
A Christian father had a son whose conduct had nearly broken his heart. He had prayed for him, instructed him in the things of God, and done all that his deep love for his soul and for his future welfare dictated, but all to no avail. He grew up a vile, hardened sinner, and left his fathers home, young in years but old in sin. At length that father was thrown upon a bed of death. Before breathing his last he sent for his prodigal son, and asked him to promise, after his father was laid in the grave, that he would spend one hour alone each day in that room, for three months. The son readily gave the promise. The death of his father made but little impression on him, and again he rushed on in his mad career of sin. That hour alone, however, was a great burden to him. He greatly dreaded it, yet did not dare to break his promise, made under such solemn circumstances. At last one day the hour dragged along slower than usual. He had an engagement with some boon companions, and was in haste to go and enjoy their society. He often consulted his watch to see how the time passed. At last the thought came into his mind, Why did my father lay upon me this strange obligation? Then quick as lightning the thought flashed over his mind, My father was a good man, he loved my soul, and it must have been for my souls good he did this. This led him to reflect upon his fathers love, his past life in all its vileness, his lost and desperate state as a sinner against Gods holy law, till he fell upon his knees, and cried, God be merciful to me a sinner! He spent not only the hour but the whole day alone with God, nor did he leave the room till it could be said of him, that he had come to himself. He came out of that room a converted man.
The madness of sinners
A few months ago, I was conducting a Mission in the north of England, and the clergyman in whose church I was preaching, receiving from an anonymous correspondent one of the handbills which had been circulated in preparation for the Mission, with two words added after the words A Mission--viz., for lunatics; so that it read, A Mission for lunatics! I do not suppose that the man who wrote those words had any particular intention of telling the truth, but it is startling to think how near the truth he came. Perhaps, if we could see things as those bright intelligences see them, who are permitted to hover round this world of ours, and to be witnesses of human action, we should be disposed to regard (is it not possible that they do regard?) this world of ours as one great lunatic asylum. It must seem strange to them that to men and women there should be made such glorious offers, that before their eyes there should be spread such magnificent possibilities, and that, in the folly of their unbelief, they should turn their back upon their own truest interest, and sin against their own souls. Lunatics indeed! There are dangerous lunatics, frenzied by passion or goaded by ambition, so dangerous that sometimes their fellow lunatics have to put a kind of restraint upon them, for fear that the paroxysms of their mortal disease should carry them too far. Then there are harmless lunatics, men and women whose lives are simply insipid, who seem to be just as void of any object in life as the butterfly that flits from flower to flower, drifted about by every influence that happens to be for the moment affecting them, without any stability of purpose, without any recognition of the dignity of their own being. Then, again, there are the self-complacent lunatics, the men and women who are so particularly self-satisfied that they can afford to look down upon everybody else, and persuade themselves that they are models of good sense, and that those who are possessed of that spiritual wisdom which comes from above, are themselves in a state of insanity. Is it not so? Is not that just the way in which self-complacent men of the world speak about those who know something of the realities of eternity? Have we not heard it again and again, till we are almost tired of hearing it, ever since the days when Festus charged Paul with being beside himself? Indeed, this is one of the features of lunacy. You go into a lunatic asylum, and you will always find a large number of patients who regard themselves as injured persons, who are suffering not from their own disease of insanity, hut from the insanity of other people. There are some who fancy themselves kings upon their throne, and their subjects too insane to render them the honour which is their due. Others, who imagine themselves men of vast wealth and possessions, and those who ought to be their servants, too insane to render them the service they have a rightful claim to. So, while they persuade themselves that they indeed are in the full possession of their senses, they also contrive to please themselves by thinking that other persons who are actually sane are afflicted with the very disease from which they are suffering. Friends, it is even so in the spiritual world. The men and women whom Satan has deluded most completely are just those who are the least conscious of their own insanity. The disease has taken so firm a hold upon their moral system that they believe that they are much more sane than those who are living in the light of Divine wisdom. There view of the case is an exact inversion of the truth; and as long as this moral stupor continues, the efforts which are made by those (who see things as they are), to awaken them from their fatal slumber, are regarded by these spiritual lunatics as simply the indication of moral infatuation, and they themselves, in their profound stupor, flatter themselves that they indeed alone are reasonable beings. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
He came to himself
The word may be applied to one waking out of a deep swoon. He had been unconscious of his true condition, and he had lost all power to deliver himself from it; but now he was coming round again, returning to consciousness and action. Returning, then, to true reason and sound judgment, the prodigal came to himself. Another illustration of the word may be found in the old-world fables of enchantment: when a man was disenthralled from the magicians spell he came to himself. Classic story has its legend of Circe, the enchantress, who transformed men into swine. Surely this young man in our parable had been degraded in the same manner. He had lowered his manhood to the level of the brutes. It should be the property of man to have love to his kindred, to have respect for right, to have some care for his own interest; this young man had lost all these proper attributes of humanity, and so had become as the beast that perisheth. But as the poet sings of Ulysses, that he compelled the enchantress to restore his companions to their original form, so here we see the prodigal returning to manhood, looking away from his sensual pleasures, and commencing a course of conduct more consistent with his birth and parentage. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Beneficial results of affliction
In bringing sinners to their right mind, the sobering influence which God most frequently employs in affliction. A man who had a praying wife was himself a drunkard. He was a gambler, and went to all the races within his reach, usually returning tipsy. Fond of fighting, he was withal a brutal husband, and often struck his wife. Beyond all this, as he wished that there was no God, he tried to persuade himself that there is none. There never was a bolder blasphemer. One night, when he was swearing dreadfully, his wife begged him to desist. Tom, she said, the Lord will strike you dead. Who is the Lord? he shouted, and then started off in oath after oath with the wildest imprecations, defying the Lord to touch him, vociferating and gesticulating till the perspiration stood upon his brow, and he sank down exhausted by his paroxysm of frantic impiety. For capturing a leviathan like this you would have thought of an iron cable; you would have been for putting a tremendous hook in his nose. But the Lord had hold of him already. How? Through his excellent wife, you reply. Well, she lost her father, and on the Sabbath after the funeral she prevailed on her husband to accompany her to church. The sermon was on the depravity of man. He gnashed his teeth as he heard it, and with all his own corruption stirred to fury he turned on his poor helpmate as she came home, and, in her new mourning, kicked her downstairs. But a silken cord, if it be Gods, will draw out leviathan--nay, with such a cord in the hand of a little child He can lead the lion. This brutal father had a daughter two years of age, and out of the mouth of this babe the Lord often stilled the enemy and avenger. When coming home in a savage humour, and knocking about his helpless partner, the little Maria would scramble into her mothers lap, and with her pinafore wiping the tears, would gently bid her Dont cry, mamma, and turning on him a reproving face, would say, Ah! naughty papa, to make poor mamma cry. This little one he really loved, and this little one the Lord took. Soon after returning from her grave, the father was once more persuaded to enter a place of worship; and this time the word of the Lord found him. The parable of The wise and foolish virgins opened his eyes, and feeling that if he continued in his wickedness he must perish eternally, with all the earnestness of an awakened conscience he began to seek salvation. Night and day he sought it, often with crying and tears; and when at last the Saviour stood revealed before him, he consecrated life to His service, and has ever since proved a faithful follower and a valiant soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
Revulsion after excess
Where there is any nobleness in the nature, it occasionally happens, that the very excess of riot leads to a revulsion. I was converted by six weeks debauchery, says a somewhat paradoxical character in fiction; and when the good minister remonstrates against his speaking thus lightly of the Divine operations, he replies, I am not speaking lightly. If I had not seen that I was making a hog of myself very fast, and that pig-wash, even if I could get plenty of it, was a poor sort of thing, I should never have looked life fairly in the face to see what was to be done with it. And when the Spirit of God enkindles or keeps smouldering on tram better days any of the finer feelings, in the very sight of the swine-trough there is enough to sober and startle. Greek writers tell of a creature which combined every element of hideousness, and was capable of much mischief as well; but if by any chance it got a glimpse of itself, the face in the mirror was fatal--the sight of the monster slew the miscreant. The perfection of ugliness is evil, and if, like the basilisk, the sinner could only view his own deformity, it is a sight which self-complacency could never survive. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
The pain of self-awakening
The process of awakening and coming to ourselves is usually painful, sometimes appalling, always humiliating, and hence men shrink from it, choosing rather to sleep on, even if it be in the sleep of death, than to face all the pain, and distress, and trouble, and conflict which must accompany an awakening. I remember when I was a boy a poor waggoner in our parish met with an accident that came within a little of costing him his life. He was bringing a load up a very steep incline when the horse jibed, and man and cart and horse all went over into a reservoir. The unfortunate man was held under water by the shaft of the cart, which had fallen on the top of him, and when at last he was extricated it was supposed that life was extinct. Happily there was a doctor within call-restoratives were applied, and the poor mans life was saved; but when, after he had been under treatment for about an hour, he began to give signs of returning animation, the first exclamation that he uttered was, Oh, let me die! let me die! Do, do, do let me die! So cruel was the pain of awakening to one who was half dead. I have often thought that the cry of that poor man at pain of his physical restoration illustrates and explains the apparent perversity of some who seem to run away from conviction, and so endeavour to escape from the blessing they so sorely need. They shrink from coming to themselves because of the pain and anguish that this must need induce. The cry of their coward spirit seems to be not unlike that of that poor half-drowned wretch--Oh, let me die! Do, do let me die! But surely, brethren, life is worth having even at such a cost. Surely these sorrows and humiliations of returning vitality, these birth-throes of a new and higher life, are better than the bitter pains of eternal death, where the anguish and distress are only part of a process of destruction. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M. A.)
Brought to himself
A very interesting incident has recently been published in one of the London serials, concerning the conversion of an Ethiopian Serenader, through the faithfulness and holy guile of a pious bookseller, in an English country town. As it is guaranteed to be authentic by the Rev. Mr. Maguire, Vicar of Clerkenwell, and illustrates strikingly the portion of the parable already considered, I will insert it here:--A band or troupe of young men, with hands and faces blackened, and dressed in very grotesque costumes, arranged themselves before a publishers door one day for an exhibition of their peculiar performances. These people used to be called Ethiopian Serenaders. After they had smug some comic and some plaintive melodies, with their own peculiar accompaniments of gestures and grimaces, one of the party, a tall and interesting young man, who had the look of one who was beneath his proper station, stepped up to the door, tambourine in hand, to ask for a few dropping pennies of the people. Mr. Carr, taking one of the Bibles out of his window, addressed the youth--See here, young man, he said, I will give you a shilling, and this book besides, if you will read a portion of it among your comrades there, and in the hearing of the bystanders. Heres a shilling for an easy job! he chuckled out to his mates--Im going to give you a public reading! Mr. Carr opened at the fifteenth chapter of St. Lukes Gospel, and, pointing to the eleventh verse, requested the young man to commence reading at that verse. Now, Jem, speak up! said one of the party, and earn your shilling like a man! And Jem took the Book, and read--And He said, A certain man had two sons: and the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. There was something in the voice of the reader, as well as in the strangeness of the circumstances, that lulled all to silence; while an air of seriousness took possession of the youth, and still further commanded the rapt attention of the crowd. He read on--And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. Thats thee, Jam! ejaculated one of his comrades; its just like what you told me of yourself and your father! The reader continued--And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. Why, thats thee again, Jem! said the voice--Go on! And be went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. Thats like us all! said the voice, once more interrupting; were all beggars, and might be better than we are! Go on; lets hear what came of it. And the young man read on, and as he read his voice trembled--And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my fathers have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father-- At this point he fairly broke down, and could read no more. All were impressed and moved. The whole reality of the past rose up to view, and in the clear starry of the gospel a ray of hope dawned upon him for his future. His father--his fathers house--and his mothers too; and the plenty and the love ever bestowed upon him there; and the hired servants, all having enough; and then himself, his fathers son; and his present state, his companionships, his habits, his sins, his poverty, his outcast condition, his absurdly questionable mode of living,--all these came climbing like an invading force of thoughts and reflections into the citadel of his mind, and fairly overcame him. That day--that scene--proved the turning-point of that young prodigals life. He sought the advice of the Christian friend who had thus providentially interposed for his deliverance. Communications were made to his parents, which resulted in a long-lost and dearly-loved child returning to the familiar earthly home; and, still better, in his return to his heavenly Father! He found, as I trust my readers will, how true are the promises of the parable of the Prodigal Son both for time and for eternity.
Yes, there is One who will not chide nor scoff,
But beckons us to homes of heavenly bliss;
Beholds the prodigal a great way off,
And flies to meet him with a Fathers kiss!
(F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Trouble draws the soul to God
When I was sixteen years of age, a youth very dear to me, two years older than myself, was seized with paralysis of the limbs. He was handsome and amiable and well-conducted--no prodigal, but the delight of the family circle, and a favouritethroughout a wider sphere. The ailment advanced by very slow degrees; but it advanced, and he died before he was twenty-two years of age. In the earliest stages he was pleasant, but reserved. Afterwards, for a while, he became sad. At the next stage he opened like a flower in spring, and blossomed into the most attractive beauty, both of person and spirit. He manifested peace and joy in believing. His society was sought even by aged and experienced Christians. After his souls burden was removed, his face lighted up and his lips opened; he told me fully the history of his spiritual course, which he had kept secret at the time. It was this: When he found himself a cripple, although otherwise enjoying a considerable measure of health, he saw that the world had for him lost its charm. The happiness he had promised him self was blasted. His former portion was gone, and he had none other. After the first sadness passed, he thought of turning towards Christ for comfort; but he was met and precipitously stopped at the very entrance on this path by the reflection: Christ knows that as long as I had other pleasures I did not care for Him; He knows that if I come to Him now, it is because I have nothing else--that I am making a do-no-better of Him. He will spurn me away. If I had chosen Him while the world was bright before me, He might, perhaps, have received me; but as I never turned to Him till I had lost the portion I preferred, I can expect nothing but upbraiding. This thought kept him long back. It was like a barrier reared across the path--the path that leadeth unto life--and he could not surmount it. By degrees, however, as he studied the Scriptures in his enforced leisure, he began to perceive that, although he deserved to be so treated, Christ would not treat him so. He discovered that this Man receiveth sinners when they come, without asking what it was that brought them. Further, he learned that whether one come when the world is smiling, or when it is shrouded in darkness--whether he come in health or in disease--it is in every case the love of Christ that draws him; and that no sinner saved will have any credit in the end. All and all alike will attribute their salvation to the free mercy of God. At first his thought was, If I had the recommendation of having come when my fortune was at the full, I could have entertained a hope. But at last he learned that whosoever will may come, and that he who cometh will in no wise be cast out. On these grounds he came at Christs command, was accepted, and redeemed. (W. Arnot, D. D.)
Bread enough and to spare
Abundance in the Fathers house
I. First, let us consider for a short time THE MORE THAN ABUNDANCE OF ALL GOOD THINGS IN THE FATHERS HOUSE. Of all that thou needest, there is with God an all-sufficient, a superabounding supply--bread enough and to spare. Let us prove this to thee.
1. First, consider the Father Himself; and whosoever shall rightly consider the Father will at once perceive that there can be no stint to mercy, no bound to the possibilities of grace. If thou starve, thou starvest because thou wilt starve; for in the Fathers house there is bread enough and to spare.
2. But now consider a second matter which may set this more clearly before us. Think of the Son of God, who is indeed the true Bread of Life for sinners. In the atonement of Christ Jesus there is bread enough and to spare; even as Paul wrote to Timothy, He is the Saviour of all men, specially of those that believe.
3. But now let me lead you to another point of solemnly joyful consideration, and that is the Holy Spirit. Now, sinner, thou needest a new life and thou needest holiness, for both of these are necessary to make thee fit for heaven. Is there a provision for this? The Holy Spirit is provided and given in the covenant of grace; and surely in Him there is enough and to spare. What cannot the Holy Spirit do? Being Divine, nothing can be beyond His power. I must leave this point, but I cannot do so without adding that I think Bread enough and to spare might be taken for the motto of the gospel.
II. According to the text there was not only bread enough in the house, but THE LOWEST IN THE FATHERS HOUSE ENJOYED ENOUGH AND TO SPARE. We can never make a parable run on all fours, therefore we cannot find the exact counterpart of the hired servants. I understand the prodigal to have meant this, that the very lowest menial servant employed by his father had bread to eat, and had bread enough and to spare. Now, how should we translate this? Why, sinner, the very lowest creature that God has made, that has not sinned against Him, is well supplied and has abounding happiness. There are adaptations for pleasure in the organizations of the lowest animals. See how the gnats dance in the summers sunbeam; hear the swallows as they scream with delight when on the wing. He who cares for birds and insects will surely care for men. God who hears the ravens when they cry, will He not hear the returning penitent? He gives these insects happiness; did He mean me to be wretched? Surely He who opens His hand and supplies the lack of every living thing, will not refuse to open His hand and supply my needs if I seek His face. Yet I must not make these lowest creatures to be the hired servants. Whom shall I then select among men? I will put it thus. The very worst of sinners that have come to Christ have found grace enough and to spare, and the very least of saints who dwell in the house of the Lord find love enough and to spare. Take then the most guilty of sinners, and see how bountifully the Lord treats them when they turn unto Him. Did the blood of Christ avail to cleanse them? Oh, yes; and more than cleanse, for it added to them beauty not their own. Now, if the chief of sinners bear this witness, so do the most obscure.cf saints. You have many afflictions, doubts, and fears, but have you any complaints against your Lord? When you have waited upon Him for daily grace, has He denied you?
III. Notice in the third place, that the text dwells upon THE MULTITUDE OF THOSE WHO HAVE BREAD ENOUGH AND TO SPARE. The prodigal lays an emphasis upon that word, How many hired servants of my fathers! He was thinking of their great number, and counting them over. He thought of those that tended the cattle, of those that went out with the camels, of those that watched the sheep, and those that minded the corn, and those that waited in the house; he ran them over in his mind: his father was great in the land, and had many servants; yet he knew that they all had of the best food enough and to spare. Now, O thou awakened sinner, thou who dost feel this morning thy sin and misery, think of the numbers upon whom God has bestowed His grace already. Think of the countless hosts in heaven: if thou wert introduced there to-day, thou wouldst find it as easy to tell the stars, or the sands of the sea, as to count the multitudes that are before the throne even now. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
I perish with hunger
The hunger of the soul
What I propose for our meditation is the truth here expressed, that a life separated from God is a life of bitter hunger, or even of spiritual starvation.
I. To exhibit THE TRUE GROUNDS OF THE FACT STATED; for, as we discover how and for what reasons the life of sin must be a life of hunger, we shall see the more readily and clearly the force of those illustrations by which the fact is exhibited. The great principle that underlies the whole subject and all the facts pertaining to it is, that the soul is a creature that wants food, in order to its satisfaction, as truly as the body. No principle is more certain, and yet there is none so generally overlooked or hidden from the sight of men. Job brings it forward, by a direct and simple comparison, when he says, For the ear trieth words, as the mouth tasteth meat; where he means by the ear, you perceive, not the outward but the inward ear of the understanding. So the psalmist says, My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness. And so also the prophet, beholding his apostate countrymen dying for hunger and thirst in their sins, calls to them, saying, He, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come ye, buy, and eat. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. In the same way, an apostle speaks of them that have tasted the good Word of God, and the powers of the world to come; and another, of them that have tasted that the Lord is gracious, and therefore desire the sincere milk of the Word, that they may grow thereby. True, these are all figures of speech, transferred from the feeding of the body to that of the soul. But they are transferred because they have a fitness to be transferred. The analogy of the soul is so close to that of the body that it speaks of its hunger, its food, its fulness, and growth, and fatness, under the images it derives from the body. Hence you will observe that our blessed Lord appears to have always the feeling that He has come down into a realm of hungry, famishing souls. Apart from God, the soul is an incomplete creature, a poor, blank fragment of existence, hungry, dry, and cold. And still, alas! it cannot think so. Therefore Christ comes into the world to incarnate the Divine nature, otherwise unrecognized, before it; so to reveal God to its knowledge, enter Him into its faith and feeling, make Him its living bread, the food of its eternity. Therefore of His fulness we are called to feed, receiving of Him freely grace for grace. When He is received, He restores the consciousness of God, fills the soul with the Divine light, and sets it in that connection with God which is life--eternal life. Holding this view of the inherent relation between created souls and God as their nourishing principle, we pass--
II. To a consideration of THE NECESSARY HUNGER OF A STATE OF SIN, AND THE TOKENS BY WHICH IT IS INDICATED. A hungry herd of animals, waiting for the time of their feeding, do not show their hunger more convincingly by their impatient cries, and eager looks and motions, than the human race do theirs in the works, and ways, and tempers of their selfish life. I can only point you to a few of these demonstrations. And a very impressive and remarkable one you have in this--viz., the common endeavour to make the body receive double, so as to satisfy both itself and the soul, too, with its pleasures. The effort is, how continually, to stimulate the body by delicacies, and condiments, and sparkling bowls, and licentious pleasures of all kinds, and so to make the body do double service. Hence, too, the drunkenness, and high feasting, and other vices of excess. The animals have no such vices, because they have no hunger save simply that of the body; but man has a hunger also of the mind or soul when separated from God by his sin, and therefore he must somehow try to pacify that. And he does it by a work of double feeding put upon the body. We call it sensuality. But the body asks not for it. The body is satisfied by simply that which allows it to grow and maintain its vigour. It is the unsatisfied, hungry mind that flies to the body for some stimulus of sensation, compelling it to devour so many more of the husks, or carobs, as will feed the hungry prodigal within. There is no end to the diverse acts men practise to get some food for their soul; and to whatever course they turn themselves you will see as clearly as possible that they are hungry. Nay, they say it themselves. What sad bewailings do you hear from them, calling the world ashes, wondering at the poverty of existence, fretting at the courses of Providence, and blaming their harshness, raging profanely against Gods appointments, and venting their impatience with life in curses on its emptiness. All this, you understand, is the hunger they are in. Feeding on carobs only, as they do, what shall we expect but to see them feed impatiently? This also you will notice as a striking evidence that, however well they succeed in the providing of earthly things, they are never saris fled. They say they are not, have it for a proverb that no man is, or can be. How can they be satisfied with lands, or money, or honour, or any finite good, when their hunger is infinite, reaching after God and the fulness of His infinite life--God, who is the object of their intelligence, their love, their hope, their worship; the complement of their weakness, the crown of their glory, the sublimity of their rest for ever. Such kind of hunger manifestly could not be satisfied with any finite good, and therefore it never is. (H. Bushnell, D. D.)
Deceived by pleasure
Worldly pleasure, like the rose, is sweet, but it has its thorn. Like the bee it gives some honey, but it carries its sting. Like Judas, it gives the kiss, but it is that of the betrayer. Pleasure is good for sauce but not for food; it may do for digestion, but not for a dinner. Those who get most of it are most deceived. (C. Leach.)
Hunger felt
If a man is dying of hunger, he feels it, or of thirst, he feels it; but the misery of a sinner is not to know his misery. Here the type of the prodigal fails. I offer a man the bread of life, and he tells me he is not hungry; living water, and he puts aside the cup, saying, I am not thirsty; I find him stricken down with a mortal disease, but, on bringing a physician to his bedside, he bids us go, and not disturb him, but leave him to sleep, for he feels no pain. Insensibility to pain is his worst symptom, fatal proof that mortification has begun, and that, unless it can be arrested, all is over--you may go, make his coffin, and dig him a grave. But let sensibilityreturn, so that on pressure being applied to the seat of disease, he shrinks and shrieks out with pain; alarmed and ignorant, his attendants may imagine that now his last hour is come, but the man of skill knows better fhere is life in that cry--it proves that the tide has turned, that he shall live. Sign as blessed, when brought to a sense of his sins, a man feels himself perishing; cries with Peter, sinking among the waves of Galilee, I perish; with the prodigal, sitting by the swine-troughs, I perish; with the jailer, at midnight in the prison, What shall I do to be saved? (T. Guthrie, D. D.)
I will arise and go to my father
Homesickness
There is nothing like hunger to take the energy out of a man. A hungry man can toil neither with pen nor hand nor foot. There has been many an army defeated not so much for lack of ammunition as for lack of bread. It was that lack that took the fire out of this young man of the text. Storm and exposure will wear out any mans life in time, but hunger makes quick work. The most awful cry ever heard on earth is the cry for bread. I know there are a great many people who try to throw a fascination, a romance, a halo, about sin; but notwithstanding all that Lord Byron and George Sand have said in regard to it, it is a mean, low, contemptible business, and putting food and fodder into the troughs of a herd of iniquities that root and wallow in the soul of man, is a very poor business for men and women intended to be sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty; and when this young man resolved to go home, it was a very wise thing for him to do, and the only question is, whether we will follow him.
I. THIS RESOLUTION WAS FORMED IS A DISGUST AT HIS CIRCUMSTANCES. If this young man had been by his employer set to culturing flowers, or training vines over an arbour, or keeping account of the pork market, or overseeing other labourers, he would not have thought of going home. If he had his pockets full of money, if he had been able to say, I have a thousand dollars now of my own; whats the use of my going back to my fathers house? Do you think I am going back to apologize to the old man? Ah! it was his pauperism, it was his beggary. A man never wants the gospel until he realizes he is in a famine-struck state.
II. THIS RESOLUTION OF THE YOUNG MAN OF THE TEXT WAS FOUNDED IN SORROW AT HIS MISBEHAVIOUR. It was not mere physical plight. It was grief that he had so maltreated his father. It is a sad thing after a father has done everything for a child to have that child be ungrateful.
How sharper than a serpents tooth it is,
To have a thankless child.
That is Shakespeare. A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother. That is the Bible. Well, my friends, have not some of us been cruel prodigals? Have we not maltreated our Father? And such a Father!
III. THIS RESOLUTION OF THE TEXT WAS FOUNDED IN A FEELING OF HOMESICKNESS. I do not know how long this young man had been away from his fathers house, but there is something about the reading of my text that makes me think he was homesick. Some of you know what that feeling is. Far away from home sometimes, surrounded by everything bright and pleasant--plenty of friends--you have said, I would give the world to be home to-night. Well, this young man was homesick for his fathers house. Are there any here to-day homesick for God, homesick for heaven?
IV. THE RESOLUTION WAS IMMEDIATELY PUT INTO EXECUTION. The context says, He arose and came to his father. There is a man who had the typhoid fever, he said: Oh! if I could get over this terrible distress; if this fever should depart; if I could be restored to health, I would all the rest of my life serve God. The fever departed. He got well enough to go over to New York and attend to business. He is well to-day--as well as he ever was. Where is the broken vow? (De W. Talmage, D. D.)
Two prodigals
I will tell you of two prodigals--the one that got back, and the other that did not get back. In Richmond there is a very prosperous and beautiful home in many respects. A young man wandered off from that home. He wandered very far into sin. They heard of him after, but he was always on the wrong track. He would not go home. At the door of that beautiful home one night there was a great outcry. The young man of the house ran down and opened the door to see what was the matter. It was midnight. The rest of the family were asleep. There were the wife and the children of this prodigal young man. The fact was he had come home and driven them out. He said, Out of this house. Away with these children; I will dash their brains out. Out into the storm! The mother gathered them up and fled. The next morning the brother, the young man who had stayed at home, went out to find this prodigal brother and son, and he came where he was, and saw the young man wandering up and down in front of the place where he had been staying, and the young man who had kept his integrity said to the older brother: Here, what does all this mean? What is the matter with you? Why do you act in this way? The prodigal looked at him and said: Who am I? Who do you take me to be? He said: You are my brother? No, I am not. I am a brute. Have you seen anything of my wife and children? Are they dead? I drove them out last night in the storm. I am a brute, John, do you think there is any help for me? Do you think I will ever get over this life of dissipation? He said: John, there is just one thing that will stop this. The prodigal ran his fingers across his throat and said: That will stop it, and Ill stop it before night. Oh! my brain; I can stand it no longer. That prodigal never got home. But I will tell you of a prodigal that did get home. In England two young men started from their fathers house and went down to Portsmouth--I have been there--a beautiful seaport. Some of you have been there. The father could not pursue his children--for some reason he could not leave home--and so he wrote a letter down to Mr. Griffin, saying:--Mr. Griffin,--I wish you would go and see my two sons. They have arrived in Portsmouth, and there they are going to take ship, and going away from home. I wish you would persuade them back. Mr. Griffin went and tried to persuade them back. He persuaded one to go; he went with very easy persuasion, because he was very homesick already. The other young man said: I will not go. I have had enough of home; Ill never go home. Well, said Mr. Griffin, then, if you wont go home, Ill get you a respectable position on a respectable ship. No, you wont, said the prodigal; no, you wont. I am going as a private sailor, as a common sailor--that will plague my father most; and what will do most to tantalize and worry him will please me best. Years passed on, and Mr. Griffin was seated in his study one day, when a messenger cams to him saying there was a young man in irons on a ship at the dock--a young man condemned to death--who wished to see this clergyman. Mr. Griffin went down to the dock and went on shipboard. The young man said to him, You dont know me, do you? No, he said, I dont know you. Why, dont you remember that young man you tried to persuade to go home, and he wouldnt go? Oh, yes! said Mr. Griffin; are you that man? Yes, I am that man, said the other. I would like to have you pray for me. I have committed murder, and I must die; but I dont want to go out of this world until some one prays for me. You are my fathers friend, and I would like to have you pray for me. Mr. Griffin went from judicial authority to judicial authority to get that young mans pardon. He slept not night nor day. He went from influential person to influential person, until in some way he got that young mans pardon. He came down on the dock, and as he arrived on the dock with the pardon, the father came. He had heard that his son, under a disguised name, had been committing crime, and was going to be put to death. So Mr. Griffin and the father went on the ships deck, and at the very moment Mr. Griffin offered the pardon to the young man, the old father threw his arms around the sons neck, and the son said, Father, I have done very wrong, and I am very sorry. I wish I had never broken your heart. I am very sorry. Oh! said the father, dont mention it. It wont make any difference now. It is all over. I forgive you, my son, and he kissed him and kissed.him and kissed him. To-day I offer you the pardon of the gospel--full pardon, free pardon. I do not care what your crime has been. Though you say you have committed a crime against God, against your own soul, against your fellow-man, against your family, against the day of judgment, against the Cross of Christ--whatever your crime has been here is pardon, full pardon, and the very moment you take that pardon your heavenly Father throws His arms around about you and says, My son, I forgive you. It is all right. You are as much in my favour now as if you had never sinned. Oh! there is joy on earth and joy in heaven. (De W. Talmage, D. D.)
Good resolutions to be cherished
The good motions of Gods blessed Spirit, at any time, in any measure, though never so weak, begun, are not to be choked, but to be cherished. When the Lord shall put any good motion into our hearts, we are to nourish and cherish the same; to one good motion we must add a second, and to that a third, and to them a many, and so fall to blowing, and give not over until at length they break forth into a comfortable flame of godly practice. Quench not the Spirit, saith the apostle; that is, quell not, choke not the gifts and motions of the Holy Ghost. He useth a metaphor borrowed from fire, whose heat and light when it is put out, is said to be quenched. Thus also he exhorts Timothy to stir up the graces of God which be in him. And therefore, in the next place, let it serve for admonition to thee, and me, and to us all, that we beware how we suffer that blessed heat to slake, which by Gods grace begins to be enkindled in our hearts. Suffer not that coal, that holy motion which the Lord hath cast into thy bosom, to die within thee, but blow it up, lay on more fuel, add daily more and more matter to it, and tremble to lose the least measure of Gods gracious gifts. Be frequent in spiritual exercises, as in hearing, reading, meditation, Christian conference, prayer, and the like. Let no means be neglected that God hath ordained for the working of establishment. (N. Rogers.)
Resolution lasting
Make not thyself ridiculous both to God and man. We all love lasting stuff in a suit, we cannot away with that horse that will tire; and can God like such as do not continue? He cannot do it. (N. Rogers.)
Resolution not followed to execution
Their purposes being like the minutes of a clock, the second follows the first, and the third the second, all day and year long, but never overtake the one the other. Many there are also, who when the hand of God is upon them by losses, or sickness, or such like visitation, they purpose and promise great reformation; but when Gods rod is removed, and His hand taken away, they are as bad as ever they were. So that we say of them, as the wise man by shearing his bogs, Here is a great deal of cry, but a little wool. Here is a great deal of purpose, but a little practice; abundance of resolution, but small store of action. (N. Rogers.)
Satans assailing resolutions
As a man pulling at an oak or other tree, if he finds it yielding, he plucks with greater force, and leaveth not till he have it down, so in this case, if Satan find us doubting and wavering, he will the more violently assault us, and not rest until he overcome us, when, if we were resolute and constant, and did thus resist him with settled determination, he would be out of heart, and, as James saith, fly from us. (N. Rogers.)
Good resolutions brought to perfection
But some may demand, What good means are to be used for the bringing these good motions to perfection, which is no easy matter, the devil being ready to steal every good motion out of our hearts, and our own corruption to extinguish it, before we can bring it forth into actions; For the attaining to this, let these rules be practised: First, resolve upon a good ground, build thy resolution on a strong foundation. If thou resolvest to leave any sin, consider well the absolute necessity of forsaking of it, the danger it wilt bring if it be continued in. A second means is speedy execution; delay not, but speedily put in practice. Before the iron cool, it is good striking, and while the wax is pliable, it is good setting on the seal; and, therefore, what Solomon exhorteth in the case of vows is generally to be practised in all holy purposes and motions, be not slack to perform them. They that know themselves know bow fickle and unconstant their hearts are. Now as we would deal with a variable and unconstant man, so let us deal with these hearts of ours. We would take such a one at his word, and lay hold of the opportunity, when we find him in a good vein, lest within a short space he alter his mind. Our hearts are far more variable and unconstant than any man is. (N. Rogers.)
Father
Remove the word Father from this sentence, and you rob it at once of all the wondrous pathos that lies in it, and that has so often brought tears to the eye of the penitent and contrition to his heart. Let us say, Oh, Sovereign King, I have sinned against Thee! and we may tremble, but we do not weep. Oh, Judge of all, I have sinned against Thee! and perhaps we tremble still more, but our heart doesnt melt. But let us say and feel, Father, I have sinned against Thee and Thy Fatherly love, and, lo! our hard heart begins to break, and the unbidden tears most likely begin to rise. What a doubly damnable sin to sin against a Father, and such a Father! A young man at one of our meetings to whom I had spoken on the previous evening said to me, When I went home last night I took up my Bible and began to read. I had not read very long when I came to these words, Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; and, I can tell you, they pretty well broke my heart. I lay awake just sobbing, for I dont know how long, repeating over these words, Father, I have sinned. (W. HayAitken, M. A.)
Man invited to return to his home
Major D. W. Whittle was asked to preach Christ to a great crowd in the opera house at Pittsburg, and had but a few moments notice. He asked his wife, What shall I say? His little girl spoke up earnestly, Papa, tell them to come home. He did tell them, and God wonderfully blessed the simple message to the conversion of many souls. (Christian Age.)
Great resolutions
History tells us that great soldiers before their great battles, as Caesar at the Rubicon, and Lord Clive at Plassey, looked like men inspired the moment they resolved on their line of action. An earnest resolution, and the honest effort to carry it through, will fetch you new strength. The prodigal had formed the great resolve in the greatest of all battles. And no sooner resolved than done--he is off for home. He is quick to turn his thought into purpose, and his purpose into an accomplished fact. He had often repented before in a way, and then repented of his repentance; but now he must burn his boats, and break down all the bridges behind him, and make return to the swine-troughs impossible. (J. Wells.)
The Fatherhood of God
I advise every one--who wishes to be a true penitent--first of all to get a firm hold upon the fact that God is his Father, his loving Father still. Our sins do not change the Fatherhood of God. God loves sinners. If God did not love sinners, why did He give His own dearly beloved Son to die for sinners? And is not the feeling that his Father is grieved the severest part of that punishment, be that punishment whatever it may, to every child who has not quite sinned away the finer joys and the natural instincts of the human heart? I can bear my punishment, father; but I cannot bear your tears, father! was the true outcome of a sons inmost feelings under his fathers chastening. Never, whatever you have done to offend God, or how long you have offended God, never let go the feeling of the confidence of a child to a loving Father. He is my Father, He is not changed. You are, not He. Do not confuse your feelings and His feelings. Cling to the Fatherhood of God. The Father may chasten, very severely chasten, but He is a Father who never hates; He is a Father who never tires; He is a Father who cannot finally refuse to accept the smallest confession, or one really penitential tear. (J. Vaughan, M. A.)
A mental picture
The picture of the workings of the prodigals mind and of their practical results brings before us the features of genuine repentance with incomparably greater clearness and effect than a treatise of any supposable length on the abstract subject would have done. The features of true repentance apparent there are these:
1. A change of mind: he came to himself. How opposite his views and feelings now from what they had been when he forsook the paternal abode!
2. A deep sense of guilt arising from a right view of sin, as committed not against man only, but against heaven; not against his father only, but against God: I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, etc.
3. A consequent sense of entire unworthiness, accompanied with a conviction that, if he met with a favourable reception, he should owe it entirely to free clemency; he should have no claim, no title, to it, but might justly be rejected: I have sinned, and am no more worthy. And--
4. A returning conviction that there was no happiness for him but under his fathers roof, and in the possession of his fathers favour: I am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants; let me be but under thy roof, let me be the lowest menial; but let me not be cast out of thy sight, for blessed are even these thy servants. I have made myself wretched and unworthy, and I envy the lowest of them. This is the very counterpart of the spirit in which a truly penitent sinner comes back to God. (R. Wardlaw.)
I have sinned
Confession of sin
And you will see how these words, in the lips of different men, indicate very different feelings.
I. The first case I shall bring before you is that of the HARDENED SINNER, who, when under terror, says, I have sinned. And you will find the text in the Book of Exodus, the 9th chap and 27th verse: And Pharaoh sent, and called for Moses and Aaron, and said unto them, I have sinned this time: the Lord is righteous, and I and my people are wicked. But why this confession from the lips of the haughty tyrant? Of what avail and of what value was his confession? The repentance that was born in the storm died in the calm; that repentance of his that was begotten amidst the thunder and the lightning, ceased so soon as all was hushed in quiet.
II. Now for a second text. I beg to introduce to you another character--the DOUBLE-MINDED MAN, who says, I have sinned, and feels that he has, and feels it deeply too, but who is so worldly-minded that he loves the wages of unrighteousness. The character I have chosen to illustrate this, is that of Balaam (see Num_22:34).
III. And now a third character, and a third text. In the First Book of Samuel, the 15th chap and 24th verse: And Saul said unto Samuel, I have sinned. Here is the INSINCERE MAN--the man who is not, like Balaam, to a certain extent sincere in two things; but the man who is just the opposite--who has no prominent point in his character at all, but is moulded everlastingly by the circumstances that are passing over his head. To say, I have sinned, in an unmeaning manner, is worse than worthless, for it is a mockery of God thus to confess with insincerity of heart.
IV. THE DOUBTFUL PENITENT. Achan (Jos_7:20). Achan is the representative of some whose characters are doubtful on their deathbeds; who do repent apparently, but of whom the most we can say is, that we hope their souls are saved at last, but indeed we cannot tell.
V. I must now give you another bad case; the worst of all. It is the REPENTANCE OF DESPAIR. Will you turn to the 27th chap of Matthew, and the 4th verse? There you have a dreadful case of the repentance of despair.
VI. And now I come into daylight. I have been taking you through dark and dreary confessions; I shall detain you there no longer, but bring you out to the two good confessions which I have read to you. The first is that of Job in 7th chap., at the 20th verse: I have sinned; what shall I do unto Thee, O Thou preserver of men? This is the REPENTANCE OF THE SAINT.
VII. I come now to the last instance, which I shall mention; it is the case of the prodigal. In Luk_15:18, we find the prodigal says: Father, I have sinned. Oh, here is A BLESSED CONFESSION? Here is that which proves a man to be a regenerate character--Father, I have sinned. (C. H.Spurgeon.)
Inordinate sorrow not necessary to repentance
If thus, then be you assured, that though you have not been cast down under that depth of humiliation that, others have, yet that degree of humiliation you have had, God in wisdom saw to be competent, and sufficient for you. It is good to grieve, because we can grieve no more; but to perplex the soul with needless fears, because we have not been so much humbled as others (the former marks and signs being found in us) argues ignorance and unthankfulness. As if one should cry out of a skilful chirurgeon, for setting our broken bones with less pain, or curing our wounds with less smart, than he did some others. It may be, God in mercy hath kept as yet from thee the ghastly aspect of thy sins, lest the horror of them should overwhelm thee. Bless God for it, and think not the worse of Him nor of thyself, ii thou be brought home by enticements and allurements: It is no small advantage the devil takes through immoderate sorrow of young beginners. (N. Rogers.)
The prodigals return
That cry of the prodigal to his father, which framed itself spontaneously in his mind, when first he came to himself in his misery and degradation--I suppose it is the common cry of repentant humanity. Taking this cry, therefore, as the natural utterance of penitent humanity, let us observe two things about it. In the first place, it is very humble, and therefore very hopeful. I am no more worthy to be called thy son, is no mere formal expression, such as might serve a purpose without costing anything; his condition and his state of mind were too serious to allow of hypocrisies, conscious or unconscious; it was the genuine feeling of the man, a feeling very painful and humiliating, yet the one which had the greatest hold of his mind, and therefore found the strongest expression in his words. I need not say that a genuine sense of unworthiness and of self-condemnation is the most hopeful sign which God can behold in His returning children. But we have to observe, in the second place, that the words which the prodigal intended to say, however natural and however hopeful they might be, were founded on a mistake, and implied an impossibility. For better or worse, he was a son, and a son he must remain; his sins had been the sins of a son, not of a servant; his punishment had been the misery of a self-exiled son, not of a runaway servant. Now let us ask how it may have fared with him in after days. Was there nothing hard in store, nothing difficult, when the first absorbing happiness of his welcome home was past? Would the habits and the manners which he had learnt in his long wanderings suit the gravity of his fathers house? Would the restlessness which grows with travel let him be at ease even within those pleasant walls? Could he without great effort exchange his former unrestrained licence for the dutiful behaviour of a younger son? In one word, could he, without a constant struggle with himself, fill again the place of a child within his fathers home? Now, it seems to me that here is a lesson most true, most necessary for us to learn. Many of us are apt to think that when once the prodigal has returned, when once the sinner has repented, then all the struggle and the difficulty and the sad consequence of former wilfulness is past and over--that henceforth all is calm and easy. Alas! what ignorance of human nature, even of redeemed human nature, does such a fancy display. The starved and ragged wanderer is indeed clasped within his fathers arms, is clothed in the finest and feasted of the best, but--he has to live henceforth as a son, and to render to his father the ready, thoughtful, loving obedience which is due from a son. And this, although it be so great a privilege, so much more than we could have asked, is yet so hard to the obstinate waywardness, to the ingrained lawlessness of our hearts. It is so hard that God will have us as children, or not have us at all. If we might only be as hired servants, and have our tasks assigned to us, and if we did not do them bear the loss of wages, and hear no more about it! The more unworthy we feel ourselves to be, the more conscious we are of the real inferiority of our character and of the very mixed nature of our motives, the more painful must we feel our position to be as sons of God. For my own part, I will say that this demand of a free and loving obedience, of an obedience which is absolutely unlimited, and which must be a law unto itself, is harder than any which God could have made of perverse and fallen creatures such as we. It seems to me that it would be infinitely easier to face the fires or the wild beasts once for all, than always to render the loving service of a child to the Father in heaven, always to strain after conformity to a standard which is far above our reach, always to accommodate ourselves to the dispositions of One who is infinitely holier than we. What is this to one who feels the law of sin at work within him, who feels the old wildness yet untamed, the old self-will yet unbroken, who consents to the rule of the Divine life with his mind, but cannot find how to put it in practice--what is it to him but a lifelong, a daily, hourly martyrdom? What is it but a perpetual crucifixion--as, indeed, the Bible calls it? Even so; that is the law of Christian life. What is happy and hopeful about it is due to Gods great love in receiving us once more as His children; what is sad and disheartening about it is due to our own sin and folly in having been alienated so long from Him. This is sad and disheartening in very truth, but it is saved from being intolerable by two things--the hope of heaven, and the sympathy of Christ. For concerning heaven, while many beautiful things are written in the Word of God, none is written so beautiful as that simple saying, His servants shall serve Him; for that is the very thing we are always trying to do, and always failing to do properly in this life. There shall really come a time when it will not be hard, not be painful, not be against the grain to do Gods wilt in all things--when we shall serve Him joyfully, naturally, as children should, from love, not from fear, for love, not for reward. And then for the present distress there is the sympathy of Christ. That prodigal had an eider brother who would certainly have added to his difficulties, who would have watched for and reported any breach of propriety, and rejoiced in any mortification. We have an elder Brother who has shared the same hardships and endured the same discipline as ourselves--who feels an infinite sympathy for the failures, the self-reproaches, the mortifications, which He understands so well. Far from alienating Him by our want of success, every disappointment over which we grieve only wakes in Him a livelier pity and a more tender love. (R. Winterbotham, M. A.)
The difficulty of Gods service to recent converts
We know that Gods service is perfect freedom, not a servitude; but this it is in the case of those who have long served Him; at first it is a kind of servitude, it is a task till our likings and tastes come to be in unison with those which God has sanctioned. It is the happiness of saints and angels in heaven to take pleasure in their duty, and nothing but their duty; for their mind goes that one way, and pours itself out in obedience to God, spontaneously and without thought or deliberation, just as man sins naturally. This is the state to which we are tending if we give ourselves up to religion; but in its commencement, religion is necessarily almost a task and a formal service. When a man begins to see his wickedness, and resolves on leading a new life, he asks, What must I do? he has a wide field before him, and he does not know hew to enter it. He must be bid to do some particular plain acts of obedience to fix him. He must be told to go to church regularly, to say his prayers morning and evening, and statedly to read the Scriptures. This will limit his efforts to a certain end, and relieve him of the perplexity and indecision which the greatness of his work at first causes. But who does not see that this going to church, praying in private, and reading Scripture, must in his case be, in great measure, what is called a form and a task? Having been used to do as he would, and indulge himself, and having very little understanding or liking for religion, he cannot take pleasure in these religious duties; they will necessarily be a weariness to him; nay, he will not be able even to give his attention to them. Nor will he see the use of them; he will not be able to find they make him better though he repeat them again and again. Thus his obedience at first is altogether that of a hired servant, The servant knoweth not what his lord doeth. This is Christs account of him. The servant is not in his lords confidence, does not understand what he is aiming at, or why he commands this and forbids that. He executes the commands given him, he goes hither and thither, punctually, but by the mere letter of the command. Such is the state of those who begin religious obedience. (J. H. Newman, D. D.)
Complete surrender to God
There is no mention made here of any offering on his part to his father, any propitiatory work. This should be well observed. The truth is, that our Saviour has shown us in all things a more perfect way than was ever before shown to man. As He promises us a more exalted holiness, an exacter self-command, a more generous self-denial, and a fuller knowledge of truth, so He gives us a more true and noble repentance. The most noble repentance (if a fallen being can be noble in his fall), the most decorous conduct in a conscious sinner, is an unconditional surrender of himself to God--not a bargaining about terms, not a scheming (so to call it) to be received back again, but an instant surrender of himself in the first instance. Without knowing what will become of him, whether God will spare or not, merely with so much hope in his heart as not utterly to despair of pardon, still not looking merely to pardon as an end, but rather looking to the claims of the Benefactor whom he has offended, and smitten with shame, and the sense of his ingratitude, he must surrender himself to his lawful Sovereign. He is a runaway offender; he must come back, as a very first step, before anything can be determined about him, bad or good; he is a rebel, and must lay down his arms. Self-devised offerings might do in a less serious matter; as an atonement for sin, they imply a defective view of the evil and extent of sin in his own case. Such is that perfect way which nature shrinks from, but which our Lord enjoins in the parable--a surrender. The prodigal son waited not for his father to show signs of placability. He did not merely approach a space, and then stand as a coward, curiously inquiring, and dreading how his father felt towards him. He made up his mind at once to degradation at the best, perhaps to rejection. He arose and went straight on towards his father, with a collected mind; and though his relenting father saw him from a distance, and went out to meet him, still his purpose was that of an instant frank submission. Such must be Christian repentance: First we must put aside the idea of finding a remedy for our sin; then, though we feel the guilt of it, yet we must set out firmly towards God, not knowing for certain that we shall be forgiven. He, indeed, meets us on our way with the tokens of His favour, and so He bears up human faith, which else would sink under the apprehension of meeting the Most High God; still, for our repentance to be Christian there must be in it that generous temper of self-surrender, the acknowledgment that we are unworthy to be called any more His sons, the abstinence from all ambitious hopes of sitting on his right hand or His left, and the willingness to bear the heavy yoke of bond-servants, if He should put it upon us. (J. H. Newman, D. D.)
Our need of the Father
1. I would first recall your attention to seasons which must have marked more or less frequently the lives of all who hear me--seasons of inward uneasiness without any outward cause. They come sometimes in the dim solitude of evening or the quiet night-watches, sometimes in the yet deeper solitude of a heartless human throng.
2. We feel, it seems to me, peculiar need of a Father in heaven, in our communion with the fair and glorious scenes of nature. Did you ever see a little child taken by his father to see some glittering pageant, which seemed to the child immensely vast and grand? And have you not marked how the child will at short intervals look away from the gay show to his fathers face, as if to fortify himself by a glance of love? Were I an atheist, I would cut myself off from every grand view of nature, would shun the mountain and the ocean, and shut my eyes against the crimson sunset and the gemmed vault of night; for all these things would tell me what a solitary being I was, and how unsheltered--they would speak to me of a stupendous machinery beyond my control, of gigantic powers which I could not calculate, of material forces which my boasted intellect could neither comprehend nor modify.
3. In our domestic relations, we also deeply feel the need of a Father in heaven. How short-lived the family on earth! How frail the tie that here makes us one! O yes! we need the protecting providence and the regenerating spirit of our Father for the ground of immovable trust, at every stage of our domestic experience--else we might well resign our charge and remit our efforts, exclaiming in despair, Who is sufficient for these things?
4. Finally, as sinners, we need a Father in heaven. How often, my Christian friends, do our attainments fall short of our aims! How often are we betrayed into sudden sins of thought or speech! Under such experiences, we need to turn from our own frailty to our heart-seeing Father, with whom our witness is in heaven, our record on high. (A. P. Peabody.)
Adoniram Judsons conversion
A new England student sets out on a tour through the Northern States. Before leaving home he avows himself an infidel. His father argues, his mother weeps. He can resist his fathers arguments, but finds it more difficult to resist his mothers tears. Still he leaves home, resolved to see life, its dark side as well as its bright, having perfect confidence in his own self-control that it will protect him from anything mean and vicious. In the course of his travels he stops at a country inn. The landlord mentions, as he lights him to his room, that he has been obliged to place him next door to a young man who is probably in a dying state. The traveller passes a very restless night. Sounds come from the sick chamber--sometimes the movements of the watchers, sometimes the groans of the sufferer; but it is not these that disturb him. He thinks of what the landlord said--the stranger is probably in a dying state; and is he prepared? Alone, and in the dead of night, he feels a blush of shame steal over him at the question, for it proves the shallowness of his philosophy. What would his late companions say to his weakness. The clear-minded, intellectual, witty E--, what would he say to such consummate boyishness? But still his thoughts will revert to the sick man. Is he a Christian, calm and strong in the hope of a glorious immortality, or is he shuddering on the brink of a dark, unknown future? Perhaps he is a Freethinker educated by Christian parents, and prayed over by a Christian mother. At last morning comes, and its light dispels what he would fain consider his superstitious illusions. He goes in search of the landlord and inquires for his fellow-lodger. He is dead. Dead! Yes, he is gone, poor fellow! Do you know who he was? Oh! yes; he was a young man from Providence College, a very fine fellow; his name was E. Our traveller is completely stunned. E--! E--was his friend, the friend whose wit and raillery he dreaded, when he blushed at the thought of his own weakness during the wakeful night. And E was now dead. The traveller pursues his journey. But one single thought occupies his mind. The words dead! lost! lost! ring in his ears. Neither the pleasures nor the philosophies of the world can satisfy him now. The old resolution is virtually taken--I will arise. He abandons his travels, and turns his horses head homewards. His intellect does not readily accept the evidences of religion. But his moral nature is thoroughly aroused. And within a few months this young man surrenders his whole soul to Christ as his Saviour and Lord. This was Adoniram Judson, whose six-and-thirty years of unwearied devotion to missionary work have won for him the honourable appellation of the Apostle of Burmah. (J. Kennedy, D. D.)
The worlding arrested
Christopher Anderson was an impulsive and fearless lad, averse to all hypocrisy and deception. One after another of his brothers was converted to God, and he was left companionless in his ungodly course. But till he could enjoy religion, he was determined to enjoy the world. Much of his time was spent in the country, and there he was a devotee to the music and dancing in rural fetes. In town, where the accompaniments are less harmless, these gratifications were no less keenly sought after and indulged in. When about seventeen years of age he was sometimes alarmed at the course he was pursuing, and shuddered at the thought of where it must end; but he would not allow himself to think long enough on the subject, lest it should cost him those pleasures which he knew to be inconsistent with a godly life. But one evening, as he was returning home from a concert, he was suddenly and strangely impressed with a sense of the vanity of the world and its pleasures. There was no vision, nothing without, nothing within, on which the most critical could fasten a charge of fanaticism. But there was a profound conviction, suddenly awakened, as by the finger of God, that he was living the life of a fool, and that he must live it no longer. I will arise, he said in effect. And he arose, and at once gave himself up to God. The transition from darkness to light, from the spirit of bondage to the spirit of adoption, was nearly instantaneous. In less than one hour he was conscious of the change. And the reality of the change was attested by a long life of unvarying constancy, and of service to God and man. (J. Kennedy, D. D.)
Luthers awakening
Martin Luther was worldly, not after the merchants fashion, but after the scholars. He gave himself to study, and became a Doctor in Philosophy. He was not without thoughts of God, which haunted him and marred his happiness, but they were not sufficient to turn the current of his life. Among his college friends there was one, named Alexis, with whom he was very intimate. One morning a report was spread that Alexis had been assassinated. Luther hurried to the spot, and found the report was true. This sudden loss of his friend affected him deeply, and he asked himself, What would become of me if I were thus suddenly called away? Some months after he visited the home of his childhood, and on his return to the university he was within a short distance of Erfurt, when he was overtaken by a violent storm. The thunder roared; a thunderbolt sank into the ground at his side. Luther threw himself on his knees; his hour, he thought, was perhaps come; death, judgment, eternity, were before him in all their terrors, and spoke with a voice which he could no longer resist; encompassed with the anguish and terror of death, as he himself relates, he made a vow, if God would deliver him from this danger, to forsake the world, and devote himself entirely to His service. Risen from the earth, having still before his eyes that death which must one day overtake him, he could be worldly no longer, he must now be godly. His whole soul went into the resolution, I will arise; and arise he did with singleness and earnestness of purpose, nor lingered for one moment until he found himself sheltered in peace under the roof of his heavenly Father. (J. Kennedy, D. D.)
A patchwork quilt
A good woman, whose son was in the army, made a patchwork quilt for the Soldiers Hospital. In the white squares were texts of Scripture--every block had been prayed and wept over. Many poor fellows had laid under that quilt. In course of time a boy came; he was nearly senseless for more than a week. At last he was seen to kiss the patchwork quilt. It was thought he was wandering, or had found a text of hope or comfort. But no; it was a calico block, a little crimson leaf on a dark ground. He kept looking at it, tears in his eyes; he kissed it again, and asked, Do you know where this quilt came from? He was told a good woman had sent it, with a note pinned on to it. This they showed him at his request. His hand trembled, his cheek grew white, when he saw the writing. Please read it to me very slowly, he said. It was read. It is from my mother; that bit of calico was part of her dress. Afterwards he pointed out the text. Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and said, I am no more worthy. The rest of the parable was read to him. A few days after he said, I was a great way off; but God has met me, and had compassion on me; the Saviours love fills me with peace. So the mothers prayers were answered, and her son saved. And he arose and came to his father.
Good resolutions must be acted upon
Conviction is the first step to reformation. If we suffer conviction to cool upon our minds, the force and spirit of it will soon decay and evaporate. In all living creatures, it may be observed, that at first the dawnings and the beginning of life in them are very faint and hardly discernible. It is a small spark that just glimmers, and may easily be extinguished. But if it be cherished by heat and food, a wonderful alteration soon appears, and the little animal unfolds itself, and assumes its proper form. So it is in the first appearance of a spiritual life: there if a conviction and a resolution; and when that is exerted, a gradual reformation ensues. But the spiritual as well as the natural life is at first a tender thing, easily stopped, and hardly recovered. It concerns us, therefore, to cherish the rising resolutions, and improve them into a suitable practice. It is to be supposed that there are few persons who, when they do evil, have not some conviction and remorse arising upon it, with an intention of amending and making peace with God some time or other; tomorrow, or in a few days, or before the last hours. But in this there is too often a fair appearance and no vital principle; it is a spark that shines in a moment and goes out; a forward blossom that is nipped by the frost and withers away. Such faint essays and weak resolutions only aggravate the sins committed against them; and by thus continuing to offend, not only peace of mind is lost, but it becomes more difficult either to make new resolutions, or to trust to them when they are made; and consequently to satisfy ourselves of the sincerity of such a repentance. And yet this is a matter of infinite moment, and our all depends upon it. The sooner it is performed, the better; and God hath promised to concur with us in the undertaking. If we arise and go to Him, He, like the father in the parable, will come forth to meet us. (J. Jortin, D. D.)
Act at once on convictions
It is beyond my power to tell the importance of acting at once on your convictions. You will never attain to eminence without it. The pages of history are bright with the names, and the pathway of eminence is now crowded with men who added this to other qualities of mind--they carried out their purposes with a depth and power of resolution before which no ordinary considerations were permitted to stand. Take an instance. Nearly a hundred years ago, a young man from Peterborough entered Christs College, Cambridge. His head was clear, but his manners clumsy, his time wasted, and his University privileges fast passing away in idleness. He had spent an evening at a party. At five oclock next morning he was awakened by one of his companions standing at his bedside. Paley, said he, what a fool you are to waste your time this way! I could do nothing if I were to try; you could do anything. I have had no sleep with thinking about you. Now, I am come to tell you that, if you continue this idle life, I shall renounce your society. The admonition was not lost. That very day, the startled sluggard formed a new plan for life. He rose every morning at five; he continued at work till nine at night. He kept his resolution. His industry was unconquerable, his progress unrivalled, until, in the general examination, at the top of the list, as Senior Wrangler, stood the name of William Paley, whose varied writings on Christian Evidences have rendered the greatest service to the cause of truth. The whole success of your recovery, young man, hinges upon immediate decision. You must arise and go to your Father. Four-and-twenty hours delay may utterly ruin your purpose. Oh, that every one here, that feels the relentings for past sin, would this night put his purpose into effect. (W. B. Mackenzie, M. A.)
The turning point
I. HERE WAS ACTION. He had passed beyond mere thought, mere regret, mere resolving; now he arose.
1. This action of the prodigal was immediate, and without further parley.
2. The prodigal aroused himself, and put forth all his energies.
II. HERE WAS A SOUL COMING INTO ACTUAL CONTACT WITH GOD. It would have been of no avail for him to have arisen, if he had not come to his father. Come to God; come just as you are, without merits or good works; trust in Jesus, and your sins will be forgiven you.
III. IN THAT ACTUAL THERE WAS AS ENTIRE YIELDING UP OF HIMSELF. His proud independence and self-will were gone. He gave up all idea of self-justification. He yielded up himself so thoroughly that he owned his fathers love to him to be an aggravation of his guilt. He also yielded up all his supposed rights and claims upon his father. And he made no terms or conditions.
IV. IN THIS ACT THERE WAS A MEASURE OF FAITH IN HIS FATHER. Faith in his fathers power, and in his readiness to pardon.
V. THIS ACT OF COMING INTO CONTACT WITH GOD IS PERFORMED BY THE SINNER JUST AS HE IS.
VI. THIS ACT WROUGHT THE GREATEST CONCEIVABLE CHANGE IN THE MAN. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
A great way off, his father saw him.
The penitent received
I. The love of God DISCERNS THE FIRST MOTIONS OF PENITENCE IN THE HEART OF MAN. The prodigal arose and came to his father, came, doubting and trembling, wondering, perhaps, how he would be received. Oh! how much better was his father than his fondest hopes imagined! And how much more gracious is God to the penitent than he could ever desire.
II. And then, as He discerns the beginnings of penitence, so HE MAKES HASTE TO MEET THE PENITENT ON HIS WAY, There is a loving minuteness in the details of the story--in the setting forth of the fathers acts, his words, his very emotions. It is the minuteness of love. Every sentiment of anger, every emotion of resentment, if they had ever been cherished, vanished in a moment. His father saw him, and had compassion on him. He forgot his ingratitude, selfishness, insolence; or, if he remembered them, the remembrance was over-powered by that which was far stronger, the sense of the penitents need, the feeling that the needy one was his son. It is God in Christ who alone can bring this lesson home to ear and mind and heart, and fill our whole being with a sense of its truth. Jesus Christ speaking words of tenderest love and pity, performing acts of superhuman power and mercy, weeping over sinful and doomed Jerusalem, agonizing on the cross for the salvation of a lost world, teaches us as no other has done the love of God for man, and convinces us powerfully that His compassions fail not.
III. And the immediate effect of this loving welcome which Almighty God accords to the penitent is at once TO DEEPEN HIS PENITENCE AND TO RAISE HIS HOPES. It is a wonderful picture of the twofold power of the pardoning love of God. We do not cease to feel our sinfulness, we do not fail to confess our unworthiness, because we are assured of our reconciliation to God. The love of God has broken his heart and humbled him in his own eyes as no sense of sin and misery had done; but it has also raised him up again, and given him new and brighter hopes, and brought him into the glorious liberty of the children of God.
IV. Nor is it long before the seal is put upon the reconciliation which has been effected by THE GREAT AND BLESSED PRIVILEGES TO WHICH THE PENITENT IS INTRODUCED. The penitent is clothed in the robe of righteousness which was wrought for him by the Passion of our Lord. As the lost son receives the signet ring on his finger, so he is sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise. He is shod, too, with the preparation of the gospel of peace, so that he is now no longer a mere wanderer from the fold of God, erring and straying from Him like a lost sheep, but is able to go with his whole heart in the way of life, and is fitted for a course of earnest devotion and holy obedience. There is not a line in the whole glorious picture but has its counterpart in the love of God to the penitent sinner. And then there is a fulness of meaning in the last words of the joyful father, when he bids them kill the fatted calf, that they may eat and be merry, because the dead is alive and the lost is found. These words proclaim to us the double truth of the joy with which the grace of God fills the heart of the penitent when he has been adopted into the family of God, and of the ample provision which has been made for his wants in the kingdom of grace and glory. And now I have but two thoughts to urge upon you in conclusion. First, I would remind you that all these blessings belong only to those who truly repent: not to those who entertain some transient regrets. But my second closing word is one of encouragement--of encouragement to those who are weary of evil, and desirous of returning to God. You, my brethren, find it hard to believe that God will receive you willingly, and heal your backsliding, and love you freely. Contemplate for a moment the teaching of this parable. He is saying to you, in the most convincing and affecting language, Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should die? I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth. Turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways;for why will ye die? I beseech you, therefore, by the love of God, that you will return to Him. He is more ready to receive you than you are to offer yourself to Him. (W. R. Clark, M. A.)
The prodigals return
I. First, then, what is the POSITION signified by being a great way off? I must just notice what is not that position. It is not the position of the man who is careless and entirely regardless of God; for you notice that the prodigal is represented now as having come to himself, and as returning to his fathers house. Once again, there is another person who is not intended by this description, namely, the very great man, the Pharisee who thinks himself extremely righteous, and has never learned to confess his sin. You, sir, in your apprehension, are not a great way off. You are so really in the sight of God; you are as far from Him as light from darkness, as the east is from the west; but you are not spoken of here. Your hope of self-salvation is a fallacy, and you are not addressed in the words of the text. It is the man who knows himself lost, but desires to be saved, who is here declared to be met by God, and received with affectionate embraces. And now we come to the question, Who is the man, and why is he said to be a great way off? For he seems to be very near the kingdom, now that he knows his need and is seeking the Saviour. I reply, in the first place, he is a great way off in his own apprehensions. Oh! poor heart; here is a comforting passage for thee: When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on him. but again, there is a second sense in which some now present feel themselves to be far off from God. Conscience tells every man that if he would be saved he must get rid of his sin. Let me present you with one other aspect of our distance from God. You have read your Bibles, and you believe that faith alone can unite the soul to Christ. You feel that unless you can believe in Him who died upon the cross for your sins, you can never see the kingdom of God; but you can say this morning, Sir, I have striven to believe; I have searched the Scriptures, not hours, but days together, to find a promise upon which my weary foot might rest: I have been upon my knees many and many a time, earnestly supplicating a Divine blessing; but though I have pleaded, all in vain have I urged my plea, for until now no whisper have I had of grace, no token for good, no sign of mercy. Well, poor soul, thou art indeed far from God. I will repeat the words of the text to thee: When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on him!
II. Our second point is the PECULIAR TROUBLES which agitate the breasts of those who are in this position. There are yet many miles between him and his father whom he has neglected. Can you conceive his emotions when for the first time after so long an absence he sees the old house at home? He remembers it well in the distance; for though it is long since he trod its floors he has never ceased to recollect it; and the remembrance of his fathers kindness, and of his own prosperity when he was with him, has never yet been erased from his consciousness. You would imagine that for one moment he feels a flash of joy, like some flash of lightning in the midst of the tempest, but anon a black darkness comes over his spirit, In the first place, it is probable he will think, Oh! suppose I could reach my home, will my father receive me? Will he not shut the door in my face and tell me to begone and spend the rest of my life where I have been spending the first of it? Then another suggestion might arise: Surely, the demon that led me first astray may lead me back again, before I salute my parent. Or mayhap, thought he, I may even die upon the road, and so before I have received my fathers blessing my soul may stand before its God. I doubt not each of these three thoughts has crossed your mind if you are now in the position of one who is seeking Christ, but mourns to feel himself far away from Him. First, you haw been afraid lest you should die before Christ has appeared to you. You have been for months seeking the Saviour without finding Him, and now the black thought comes, And what if I should die with all these prayers unanswered? There was never a soul yet, that sincerely sought the Saviour, who perished before he found Him. No; the gates of death shall never shut on thee till the gates of grace have opened for thee. Your second fear is, Ah, sir! I am not afraid of dying before I find Christ, I have a worse fear than that; I have had convictions before, and they have often passed away; my greatest fear to-day is, that these will be the same. I have heard of a poor collier, who on one occasion, having been deeply impressed under a sermon, was led to repent of sin and forsake his former life; but he felt so great a horror of ever returning to his former conversation, that one day he knelt down and cried thus unto God, O Lord, let me die on this spot, rather than ever deny the religion which I have espoused, and turn back to my former conversation: and we are credibly told, that he died on that very spot, and so his prayer was answered. But the last and the most prominent thought which I suppose the prodigal would have, would be, that when he did get to his father, he would say to him, Get along with you, I will have nothing more to do with you. Now, sinners, dry your tears; let hopeless sorrows cease; look to the wounds of Christ, who died; let all your griefs now be removed, there is no further cause for them: your Father loves you; He accepts and receives you to His heart.
III. Now, in conclusion, I may notice--HOW THESE FEARS WERE MET IN THE PRODIGALS CASE, and how they shall be met in ours if we are in the same condition. The text says, The Father saw him. Yes, and God saw thee just now. That tear which was wiped away so hastily--as if thou wast ashamed of it--God saw it, and He stored it in His bottle. That prayer which thou didst breathe just a few moments ago, so faintly, and with such little faith--God heard it. Sinner, let this be thy comfort, that God sees thee when thou beginnest to repent. He does not see thee with His usual gaze, with which He looks on all men; but He sees thee with an eye of intense interest. He has been looking on thee in all thy sin, and in all thy sorrow, hoping that thou wouldst repent; and now He sees the first gleam of grace, and He beholds it with joy. Never warder on the lonely castle top saw the first grey light of morning with more joy than that with which God beholds the first desire in thy heart. Never physician rejoiced more when he saw the first heaving of the lungs in one that was supposed to be dead, than God doth rejoice over thee, now that He sees the first token for good. And then, the text says, He had compassion on him. Jehovahs bowels yearn to-day over you. He is not angry with you; His anger is passed away, and His hands are stretched out still. Nor did this prodigals father stop in mere compassion. Having had compassion, he ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. This you do not understand yet; but you shall. As sure as God is God, if you this day are seeking Him aright through Christ, the day shall come when the kiss of full assurance shall be on your lip, when the arms of sovereign love shall embrace you, and you shall know it to be so. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
The danger of trifling with convictions
A correspondent of the New York Christian Advocate furnishes the following affecting narrative:--When I was travelling in the state of Massachusetts, twenty-six years ago, after preaching one evening in the town of---- a very serious-looking young man arose, and wished to address the assembly. After obtaining leave, he spoke as follows:--My friends, about one year ago, I set out in company with a young man of my intimate acquaintance, to seek the salvation of my soul. For several weeks we went on together, we laboured together, and often renewed our covenant never to give over seeking till we obtained the religion of Jesus. But, all at once, the young man neglected attending meeting, appeared to turn his back on all the means of grace, and grew so shy of me, that I could scarcely get an opportunity to speak with him. His strange conduct gave me much painful anxiety of mind; but still I felt resolved to obtain the salvation of my soul, or perish, making the publicans plea. After a few days, a friend informed me that my young companion had received an invitation to attend a ball, and was determined to go. I went immediately to him, and, with tears in my eyes, endeavoured to persuade him to change his purpose, and to go with me on that evening to a prayer-meeting. I pleaded with him in vain. He told me, when we parted, that I must not give him up as lost, for after he had attended that ball, he intended to make a business of seeking religion. The appointed evening came, and he went to the ball, and I went to the prayer-meeting. Soon after the meeting opened, it pleased God, in answer to my prayer, to turn my spiritual captivity, and make my soul rejoice in His justifying love. Soon after the ball opened, my young friend was standing at the head of the ball-room, with the hand of a young lady in his hand, preparing to lead down the dance; and, while the musician was tuning his violin, without one moments warning, the young man sallied back, and fell dead on the floor. I was immediately sent for, to assist in devising means to convey his remains to his fathers house. You will be better able to judge what were the emotions of my heart, when I tell you that that young man was my own brother. Trifle not, then, with thy convictions, for eternity shall be too short for thee to utter thy lamentations over such trifling. (C. H.Spurgeon.)
The prodigals father
I. THE FATHERS EYESIGHT. He has seen all your frailties, all your struggles, all your disadvantages. He has net been looking at you with a critics eye or a bailiffs eye, but with a Fathers eye; and if a parent ever pitied a child, God pities you. You say: Oh, I had so many evil surroundings when I started life. Your Father sees it.
II. THE FATHERS HASTE. He ran. No wonder. He didnt know but that the young man would change his mind and go back. He didnt know but that he would drop down from exhaustion. He did not know but something fatal might overtake him before he got up to the door-sill, and so the father ran. When he was yet a great way off, his father ran. When the sinner starts for God, God starts for the sinner. God does not come out with a slow and hesitating pace; the infinite spaces slip beneath His feet, and He takes worlds at a bound. The father ran!
III. THE FATHERS KISS. Oh, this Fathers kiss! There is so much meaning, and love, and compassion in it; so much pardon in it; so much heaven in it. I proclaim Him the Lord God, merciful, gracious, and long-suffering, abundant in goodness and truth. Lest you would not believe Him, He goes up Golgotha, and while the rocks are rending, and the graves are opening, and the mobs are howling, and the sun is biding, He dies for you. (De W. Talmage, D. D.)
The fathers silence
We must not fail to observe the fathers silence in reference to the confession. There is meaning in this. When a son is received in such circumstances, expressing his grief for the past, what be says is apt to give occasion for reproach, or, if a different spirit rule, the father is apt to go to the opposite extreme, and frame words of excuse. It is otherwise here. The father is silent, and that silence is Godlike. He receives the confession, for it is true, it is necessary; nothing can excuse the deeds, nothing can change the character of that awful past; but he does not dwell upon the painful subject, he does not open up the wound afresh. As he cannot say a word in excuse, he will not speak at all. His silence is condemnation. Thus God deals with man, maintaining a silence which is merciful. He casts the sins behind His back. He giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not. (Prof. Calderwood.)
The return and the reception
I. THE PRODIGALS RETURN HOME. He arose and came to his father. He did not spend his remaining strength either in useless regrets, or in mere resolutions. He arose and came. In coming to Christ we must not allow difficulties to discourage us. We may expect them; for, if we have lived in sin, we have lived at a great distance from Him; and the king of the far country does not like to lose a subject. There is cause for all this steadfastness of purpose. If you, who have been awakened, advance no farther, sin will quickly overtake you, and will bind the chains of habit still more closely around your soul. There is no safety but in going forward boldly and confessing Christ. Haste! The cause of so many failures with those who attempt to walk in the narrow path, is, that they attempt in their own strength. This brings us to--
II. THE PRODIGALS RECEPTION. When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. That prince of story-tellers, Dr. Guthrie, tells of a young sailors widow, who had parted with her husband after a few brief bright days of wedded bliss. He went to sea and never came back, his ship, probably foundering with all her crew, was never heard of again. When the time had arrived for her return, and she came not, this woman repaired to some bold headland and watched the white sails as they appeared on the blue waves, and at length as she saw vessels making for the harbour, hoped that one of them at least would bring her long-lost one home. At night on her lone bed she used to lie awake fancying she recognized his footstep, as some late traveller or midnight reveller wended his way home, but only to sink back on her pillow and weep away her disappointment as the footstep passed her door. And long after hope had died away in others breasts, would she on her lonely bed, or on the headland close by, watch for the coming of him who never came home again. Love like this may have prompted the father of the prodigal to daily watch, with eager eye, the distant hill over which he saw his son go on that sad morning of his leaving home. When the prodigal was a great way off his father ran to meet him. The son walked; the father ran. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The prodigals reception
I. First, dear friends, THE CONDITION OF SUCH A SEEKER--HE IS YET A GREAT WAY OFF. He is a great way off if you consider one or two things.
1. Remember his want of strength. This poor young man had for some time been without food--brought so very low that the husks upon which the swine fed would have seemed a dainty to him if he could have eaten them. He is so hungry that he has become emaciated, and to him every mite has the weariness of leagues within it. So the sinner is a long way off from God when you consider his utter want of strength to come to God.
2. He is a great way off, again, if you consider his want of courage. He longs to see his father, but yet the probabilities are that if his father should come he would run away; the very sound of his fathers footsteps would act upon him as they did on Adam in the garden--he would hide himself among the trees. His want of courage, therefore, makes the distance long, for every step hitherto has been taken as though into the jaws of death.
3. You are a great way off when we consider the difficulty of the way of repentance. John Bunyan tells us that Christian found, when he went back to the arbour after his lost roll, that it was very hard work going back. Every backslider finds it so, and every penitent sinner knows that there is a bitterness in mourning for sin comparable to the loss of an only son.
4. Let us look into this matter, and show that while the road seems long on this account it really is long if we view it in certain, lights.
(1) There are many seeking sinners who are a great way off in their life.
(2) Again, you feel yourself a great way off as to knowledge.
(3) In another point also many an earnest seeker is a great way off; I mean in his repentance. Great way off as you are, if the Lord pardons you, while yet callous and consciously hard of heart, will you not then fall at His feet and commend that great love wherewith He loved you, even when ye were dead in trespasses and sins?
(4) Yes, but I think I hear one say, There is another point in which I feel a great way off, for I have little or no faith. I have not the faith that I want; I am a great way off from it, and I fear that I shall never possess it. Yes, my brethren, I perceive your difficulty, for I have felt the sorrow of it myself; but oh! my Lord, who is the giver of faith, who is exalted on high to give repentance and remission of sins, can give you the faith you so much desire, and can cause you this morning to rest with perfect confidence upon the work which He has finished for you.
II. Now consider THE MATCHLESS KINDNESS OF THE HEAVENLY FATHER. We must take each word and dwell upon it. First of all, we have here Divine observation. When he was yet a great way off his father saw him. It is true he has always seen him. God sees the sinner in every state and in every positron. The father does not turn away and try to forget him; he fixes his full gaze upon him. Observe this was a loving observation, for it is written, his father saw him. He did not see him as a mere casual observer; he did not note him as a man might note his friends child with some pity and benevolence; but he marked him as a father alone can do. What a quick eye a parent hath! The next thought to be well considered is Divine compassion. When he saw him he had compassion on him. Does not the word compassion mean suffering-with or fellow-suffering? What is compassion, then, but putting yourself into the place of the sufferer and feeling his grief? Notice and observe carefully the swiftness of this Divine love: He ran. After noticing thus observation, compassion, and swiftness, do not forget the nearness: He fell upon his neck and kissed him. Observe how near God comes to the sinner. It was said of that eminent saint and martyr, Bishop Hooper, that on one occasion a man in deep distress was allowed to go into his prison to tell his tale of conscience; but Bishop Hooper looked so sternly upon him, and addressed him so severely at first, that the poor soul ran away, and could not get comfort until he had sought out another minister of a gentler aspect. Now, Hooper really was a gracious and loving soul, but the sternness of his manner kept the penitent off. There is no such stern manner in our heavenly Father; he loves to receive His prodigals. When he comes there is no Hold off! no Keep off! to the sinner, but He falls upon his neck and He kisses him. In kissing his son the father recognizes relationship. He said with emphasis, Thou art my son. Again, that kiss was the seal of forgiveness. He would not have kissed him if he had been angry with him; he forgave him, forgave him all. There was, moreover, something more than forgiveness; there was acceptance. In summing up, one may notice that this sinner, though he was a great way off, was not received to full pardon and to adoption and acceptance by a gradual process, but he was received at once. (C. H.Spurgeon.)
The prodigals return
It was about midnight in one of the suburbs of Edinburgh, and everything around seemed peaceful and quiet, when a young man, whose age could not be more than nineteen, cautiously advanced towards one of the few shops that were to be found in that neighbourhood. He seemed anxious to escape observation; for, although it was so late, there were still many persons passing to and from the city. He very soon effected an entrance into the shop in some way known to himself, and after he gained admittance, groped his way into a part of the shop with which he seemed well acquainted, and where he found some matches and a candle, which he soon lighted. Then, looking carefully around him, his eye lighted on a desk which stood at the further end of the counter. After trying it, he found that it was locked; but not to be defeated in his purpose, he got hold of some blunt instrument and forced the lock. In doing so he made a considerable noise, and before he could proceed further in his operations he heard a voice saying, Who is there? He began to tremble and show signs of fear, and before he had time to escape a door leading towards the back part of the premises was opened. A middle-aged woman with a light in her hand then appeared. The first object that attracted her attention was the young man, who stood as if he was riveted to the floor. She looked at him for a short time, and then said, Oh, Willie, Willie, my poor boy, have you become so wicked as to rob your widowed mother? Willie, my boy, this will break my heart. I cannot help it, mother, he replied, in a husky voice. I must have money; and you can see by my clothes that I have deserted from my regiment. I will tell you what to do, his mother said. Go back to your regiment. What! go back and be punished as a deserter! he said, sullenly. No, I will not. I will have this money that is in the desk; then I can get away to another country. As he spoke he lifted the lid of the desk and seized the bag which contained the money. While thus engaged his mother stepped towards him, and grasped him by the arm, as she said, pleadingly, Willie, dont do this wicked thing; the money is of no value to me--it is your soul that I value. Come, say that you will not take it, and leave your mother. Come, mother, he said, doggedly, let go my arm; but she still clung to him. Then with some violence he pushed her back into a chair, and the poor woman covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly. Oh, Lord, she said, save my poor boy. As he pushed his mother from him he made for the door with the money in his possession, but when he reached the door he looked back, and saw his mother sobbing as her whole frame shook with emotion. He stood for a moment undecided what to do; then, throwing back the money on the counter, he put his arms round his mothers neck. Mother, he said, I will not leave you; I will go back to my regiment to-morrow. The following morning Willie gave himself up to the military authorities as a deserter, was tried by court-martial, and punished. Shortly afterwards he became seriously ill, and was sent to the Military Hospital at Edinburgh, where I first met him. The Lord blessed the Word to his soul, so that when he was discharged a short time afterwards he returned to his mothers house a believer in the Lord Jesus and a new man. A short time after his discharge he got married to a Christian young woman, and in a few weeks afterwards both of them sailed for Australia, where his voice has often been heard preaching Christ to perishing sinners, both in the public parks and in the streets of the city of Melbourne. Before he left, he said to me, I am sorry to leave you, J--, but take this Bible and keep it for my sake; it is the Bible my dear father gave me, and I value it above almost anything I possess. Keep it for my sake, and visit my mother, for she loves you as myself; and if we never meet on earth again, let us both so live here that we may meet where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. (Notes from a Soldiers Diary.)
The return of the banished
Some people once lived in a happy isle, but for their misdeeds were banished. The place of their exile, however, lay within sight of their former home. They could look across the channel and discern the beach, with its border of golden sand, and the hills beyond, with their emerald slopes and cool snow-capped summits. Occasionally, too, in the stiller weather, they could hear voices from that land: the shout of happy playmates, the tinkling tune of browsing flocks, or the mellow peal summoning to welcome worship. Their own was a land of emptiness. From the brackish bog sprouted a few dingy weeds, and the glairy stems, or mallows among the bushes, were the food of the gaunt inhabitants. Few had any desire to leave, or any hope of bettering their condition. One exception we may notice. He was a thoughtful character. With those deep, melancholy eyes, which take so much for granted, and which seldom kindle to the fullest--for they have looked the world through and through, and seen an end of all perfection--glimpses of a noble soul could at times be caught as it climbed to the window of his wan and wistful countenance. Many an eager glance did he direct towards the blessed isle. Fain would he reach it. One morning, on waking, it struck him that the opposite coast was unusually near. So low was the tide that perhaps he might ford it, or at all events swim. So down through the swamp and over the dry shingle he posted; and then across the sad and solid sand, off which the gentle wavelets had folded, right athwart the wet stones and crackling fact, where tiny streams of laggard water and crustaceans tumbling topsy-turvy in their crawling haste were trying to overtake the ocean, till abruptly met by the rising tide, he found to his dismay that, deep as was the ebb, the channel still was deeper. Disappointed here, he by and by bethought him of another plan. Westward of his dwelling the coast-line stretched away in successive cliffs and headlands, till it ended in a lofty promontory, which in its turn seemed to abut against the happy isle. Thither he made up his mind that he would take a pilgrimage. With slopes and swells, zigzags and windings, it turned out much farther than it looked; and when at last, footsore and staggering, he got to the summit, instead of a bridge to the better land, he found it a dizzy cliff, with the same relentless ocean weltering at its base. Baulked in this final effort, he went down and flung himself on the rocks and wept. It was during this paroxysm of vexation that, looking up, he noticed a little boat, with whose appearance he was familiar. He was a little surprised to see it there, for he remembered that it used to ride exactly opposite his own habitation, although, belonging to no one in particular, and not having brought any of the commodities they cared for, he and the other inhabitants had never paid it much attention. Having now nothing else to do, he looked at it eagerly and somewhat wonderingly. It neared him. It came close up to the rocks where he was seated. It was a beautiful boat, with snowy sail and golden prow, and a red pennon flying. There was one on board, and only one. His raiment was bright and glistening, and his features were such as could only have come from the happy isle. Son of man, he said, why weepest thou? Because I cannot reach yonder blessed region. Couldst thou trust thyself to me? The pilgrim looked, first at the little skiff, and then at its benignant pilot, and said, I can. With that timid yes he stepped on board, and like a sunbeam, so swift, it bore him away from that dismal coast; and ere he could believe it he was a denizen of the happy isle, breathing its immortal air; at home amidst its loveliness, and numbered with its citizens. The happy isle is peace with God--the blessed state which men when sinless occupied. The dreary land is the state of alienation from the living God, in which, with joyless acquiescence, so many are living. And the little skiff--the only means of passing over from the one region to the other--is the atonement, the intercession of Jesus Christ. (James Hamilton, D. D.)
My father will meet me
A friend got into a railway carriage in Liverpool to go far north in Scotland, and there sat beside him a pale, weak, worn young mother, and she had upon the bend of her arm a strong but restless babe. Surely, he thought, this mother is not able to carry this child all these hundreds of miles. After a little he put the question to her, Are you going far? I am. Are you going to carry that child all the way? Yes, I am. Will you not get tired? You look tired now. I am not well, and I am tired, and I do feel that it is a long way to go; but oh!--and the tears stole down her cheek--I do not mind, for my father willmeet me there. Ah! beloved, thou mayest have many a load to carry, many a sin to weep over, many a long and weary day in lifes journey, and but little strength, little to solace or comfort; but never mind, you are going home, to die no more, and your Father will meet you at the journeys end.
Conversion not necessarily a protracted process
When we read of the prodigal being a great way off, and so are led to think of his return as a long and toilsome journey, we are not to suppose that conversion is necessarily a protracted process. The coming back, of course, in the parable, must correspond to the departure into the far land; and though frequently there is a considerable time of anxiety and struggle between the moment of awakening and the time when the soul finds joy and peace in believing, yet this dark middle-passage is by no means essential. Rather it is the result either of faulty views as to the way of salvation, or of a want of faith in it as it is presented to the sinner. On this point I cannot refrain from reproducing an anecdote which I heard one evening in conversation from the lips of Mr. Spurgeon. An earnest young evangelist was one morning on his way from Granton to Edinburgh, and overtook a Newhaven fishwife carrying her burden to the market. Anxious to do some good, he said to her, There you go with your burden on your back. Once I had a heavier load than that, but, thank God, I have got rid of it now. Oh, she replied, you mean the burden that John Bunyan speaks of; I know all about that; but I have got rid of mine many and many a year ago. I am happy to hear of it, said the evangelist. Yes, she answered; but, do you know, I dont think that man Evangelist was a right preacher of the gospel at all. When Christian asked him where he was to go, he said, Do you see yonder wicket-gate? He said he didnt; and it was no wonder. He asked again, Do you see yonder shining light? and he said he did; and then Evangelist directed him to make for that. Now, what business had he to speak either about the shining light or the wicket-gate? Couldnt he have pointed him at once to the Redeemers cross. Christian never did lose his burden till he saw that cross; and he might have seen it sooner if Evangelist had known his business better. Much good he got, too, by making for the shining light. Why, before he knew where he was, he was floundering in the Slough of Despond; and if it had not been for the man Help he would never have got out. What! said the evangelist to her, were you never in the Slough of Despond? Ay, many a time, many a time, was the reply; but let me tell you, young man, its a hantel easier to get through that slough with your burden off than with your burden on! Now, though as a record of what often actually happens, the immortal allegorist has given us a truthful portraiture, the Christian fishwife was in the right; for the moment a sinner rightly apprehends and thoroughly believes the doctrine of the Cross he loses his sin-burden; and this may be after no painfully protracted process of agony and inward conflict. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
The fathers readiness to forgive
As the father in the parable ran to meet the returning prodigal, so the Lord, while slow to condemn, makes haste to forgive. Some time ago a devoted Christian worker in Edinburgh, finding a young woman--one of the fallen--in rapid decline, earnestly entreated her to go back to her home. No, she said, I cannot; my parents would never receive me. Her Christian friend knew what a mothers heart was, so she sat down and wrote a letter to the mother, telling her that she had met her daughter, who was deeply grieved, and wanted to return. The next post brought an answer back, and money along with it for the journey, and on the envelope was written, Immediately! immediately! That was a mothers heart; she fully forgave, and desired the earliest possible return. This is what the great and loving God is saying to every wandering sinner: Come immediately. Yes, backsliders, you cannot come home too soon; for He will forgive you graciously and love you freely, and in heaven there will be joy unspeakable ever your return.
The Fathers joy at thy sinners return
This infinite joy in the Fathers heart seems to us appalling when we read of it, and try to believe that it is an actual revelation of the Divine mind. It is high--we cannot attain unto it; that is our natural language. And yet all Christendom is but an expression of this truth. What does the message of Christs full and perfect sacrifice mean--what do the sacraments mean--if it is not this? tire they not manifestations of One who of His tender love to mankind gave His only begotten Son to take our nature upon Him, and to suffer death upon the cross. Passion Week is either a dream or it is a translation into fact of this parable. It is a witness that the parable applies equally to both the sons of the Father--to those who are near and to those who are afar off. (F. D. Maurice, M. A.)
And the son said unto him, Father
Confession and restoration
I. THE PRODIGALS CONFESSION.
1. This confession was the result of repentance.
2. This confession of the prodigal showed that his repentance was real. Father, I have sinned. There was nothing fictitious about that confession. It was the welling up of a bursting heart, too full of sadness, too conscious of error, too desirous of forgiveness to think of an excuse, or to say anything but the simple truth--I have sinned. It is a beautiful confession, when, coming from the lips of a truly earnest man, it is whispered into the ear of God.
3. This confession of the prodigal showed that his repentance was evangelical. I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight. The earthly aspect of the sin he saw in all its vileness; but when he turned his eyes towards heaven, he felt that God had been more bitterly sinned against.
4. This confession of the prodigal was humble--And am no more worthy to be called thy son. He did not say that he was humble; true humility never does this; but he showed it.
II. THE PRODIGALS RESTORATION.
1. The prodigal was restored to honour. The best robe.
2. He is restored to dignity. Ring on finger.
3. He is restored to comfort and strength. Shoes on feet.
4. He is restored to abundant provision. Fatted calf. (W. G. Pascoe.)
Bring forth the best robe
The best robe
I. The sinner by nature is SPIRITUALLY NAKED. Prodigal in rags.
II. A SUITABLE ROBE has been graciously prepared. Not go and prepare one, but bring it forth.
III. It is of UNPARALLELED BEAUTY AND VALUE. The best robe. Its beauty indescribable. Its beauty never fades. Purchased for us by a great price; but no price is asked from us. An invulnerable robe; clothed in it we have nothing to fear.
IV. It is brought to us and PUT UPON US BY APPOINTED AGENCY.
V. It is the FATHERS GIFT.
VI. Bestowed upon none but the SINCERELY PENITENT. (J. Dobie, D. D.)
The best robe
The best robe is the garment of salvation, or the robe of righteousness, which God puts upon every one who believes on the Lord Jesus Christ.
1. It is the best robe, because it cost so much labour to make it.
2. It is the best robe, because becoming to all persons.
3. The excellence of this robe is seen in its suitableness for all occasions.
4. It is the best robe, because it wears so well.
5. Because it costs so little. The poorest person and the greatest sinner may have it for nothing.
6. Because it is the robe we shall wear in heaven. It will be our court dress. (D. Winters.)
The best robe
By the best robe we may scripturally understand what theologians and preachers have all along designated the robe of righteousness. It covers at once and completely the rags and unseemliness of sin. It was woven on Calvary for the race of man, out of the white warp of Divine mercy and the blood-red woof of the Redeemers sacrifice. It is like Christs own garment for which lots were cast, without seam, woven from the top throughout, and of which, when He was stripped by His executioners, He was significantly arrayed in the scarlet robe, emblematical of our crimson transgressions which He bore. This robe of righteousness has been hung up in heavens gospel wardrobe, and is unto all and upon all them that believe. It is beautifully bedecked with the ornaments of holiness, which the Spirit of Christ, with delicate hand, has embroidered on its indestructible texture. An affecting anecdote has been preserved concerning the work of God in Jamaica, before our slaves were set free. Although Britain had not liberated them, Gods Spirit often broke their spiritual chains; and the joy of salvation visited black and white alike. Once, at a certain plantation, a slave had entered into the peace of the gospel, while his master still remained in darkness; and the black freedman thus addressed the white bondman, who had not yet got rid of the galling chains of sin and Satan. You see, Massa, it just like this. A gentleman pass our house one day and he offer two robe for notink--one to you and one to me. Me poor negro--very poor--got no good clothes--very glad to get robe for de taking. But you rich man--hab plenty better robe ob your own--you too proud to take de kind mans robe. Jest so. Massa, wid de gospel. De Lord Jesus Christ is passing by our plantation wid robe of righteousness for poor sinners. Me poor sinful negro--black skin--black sin--very glad to get de robe dat was woven on de tree; but you go great deal to church--gib much money--hab minister many time in your house--tink yourself very good Christian--not willing to take de robe as a free gift. O Massa, be persuade to be poor in spirit like poor negro, and take de robe ob righteousness as a free gift. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
The ring
It is a conscience-keeping ring. I cannot explain my meaning here without narrating one of those Arabian tales in which a deep meaning is often found hidden. A genius or guardian spirit presented to his protege a ring, which had this virtue, that whenever the wearer went against the wishes of his protector, it tightened upon his finger and gave him pain. Beautiful emblem of the new heart and tender conscience which Gods grace brings to the penitent and believing soul! That is the magic ornament which the returning prodigal receives when his father dresses him for the feast, and which unspeakably exceeds in value the rarest jewels that sparkle on the brow, the neck, or hand of haughty beauty. (J. Ferguson.)
A fathers pity and love
A preacher one day wound up his sermon by saying that there was not a man in London so far gone but he could be saved. Next morning a young lady--a tract distributor--requested an interview, and repeated his words. Do you mean it? I do. Well, there is a man down in the East End of London who says there is no hope for him. I wish you would go and see him. He went down into one of those dark alleys till he came to a miserable-looking building. And up in the fifth storey he found the young man, mangled and bruised by the effects of sin. The minister talked to him and told him of the sinners Friend, and prayed with him until at last light began to break into his soul, and he was able to say, I could die happy if I could hear my father say, I forgive you. He lives in the West End of London, but he has had my name taken out of the family records. He treats me as if I were dead. I will go and see him, said the minister. He found his abode--a beautiful mansion--rang the bell, and was answered by a servant in livery. He inquired if his master was in, and presently the man came down. I believe you have a son called Joseph? No, he said, I have no boy of that name. I had, but I have disinherited him. There is nothing good about him. But, said the minister, he is your boy, nevertheless. Is my Joseph sick? Yes, he is at the point of death. I ask you if you will forgive him. If you will, he can die in peace. Tell me that you forgive him, and I will take the message to him.
No, no; if my boy is sick, I will go and see him. And so the carriage was taken out, and they went to the dark alley in the East End. The father hardly recognized him. The boy said, Father, can you forgive me? Oh, Joseph, I would have forgiven you long ago, if I had known you wanted me to. Let my servants take you and put you in the carriage. No, father, I am not well enough to be moved. I shall not live much longer, but I can die happy now. And soon he passed away to meet his Lord and Saviour.
Let us eat, and be merry
Joy on the prodigals return
I. THE NEW CONVERTS JOY. You have seen, perhaps, a man running for his temporal liberty, and the officers of the law after him, and you saw him escape, or afterward you hear the judge had pardoned him, and how great was the glee of that rescued man; but it is a very tame thing that compared with the running for ones everlasting life, the terrors of the law after hind, and Christ coming in to pardon and bless and rescue and save. You remember John Bunyan in his great story tells how the pilgrim put his fingers in his ears, and ran, crying: Life, life, eternal life! A poor car-driver in this city, some months ago, after struggling for years to support his family, suddenly was informed that a large inheritance was his, and there was a joy amounting to bewilderment; but that is a small thing compared with the experience of one when he has put in his hands the title-deeds to the joys, the raptures, the splendours of heaven, and he can truly say, Its mansions are mine, its temples are mine, its songs are mine, its God is mine! Oh, it is no tame thing to become a Christian. It is a merrymaking. It is the killing of the fatted calf. It is a jubilee.
II. THE FATHERS JOY. At the opening of the Exposition in New Orleans I saw a Mexican flutist, and he played the solo, and then afterward the eight or ten bands of music, accompanied by the great organ, came in; but the sound of that one flute as compared with all the orchestras was greater than all the combined joy of the universe when compared with the resounding heart of Almighty God.
III. THE JOY OF THE MINISTERS OF RELIGION. They blew the trumpet, and ought they not to be glad of the gathering of the host? They pointed to the full supply, and ought they not to rejoice when thirsty souls plunge as the hart for the water brooks? They came forth, saying: All things are now ready--ought they not to rejoice when the prodigal sits down at the banquet?
IV. THE JOY OF ALL EARNEST CHRISTIANS.
V. THE JOY OF THE INHABITANTS OF HEAVEN. (De W. Talmage, D. D.)
The merry household
I. THE OCCASION OF THIS MIRTH. It was the restoration of the prodigal son.
II. THE PARTICIPATORS IN THIS MIRTH.
1. The father took part in this mirth. But for him, indeed, there had been no merry-making. And in that happy party there was none so happy as the father!
2. The servants took part in this mirth. They rejoiced in sympathy with their master. They say that if a piano is struck in a room where another stands unopened and untouched, he who lays his ear to the latter will hear a string within, as if touched by the hand of a shadowy spirit, sounding the same tone. But how far more strange that the strings of the heart vibrate to those of another. Joy meets joy, feeling meets feeling. The rapturous gladness of the father is caught, and like two torches blended, heightened by the servants as they crowd the hall, and with music and dancing begin to be merry. When a sinner is converted to God the sympathy of all holy beings is with him.
3. The prodigal himself took part in this mirth. He had the greatest cause of all to do so. Had he not been rescued from a misery worse than death--the misery of a sinful life? Had he not been restored to all the honours he had originally possessed? Oh! the blessedness of that hour when God first whispered forgiveness to our heart.
III. THE EFFECT OF HIS MIRTH. It would establish the prodigal in his new mode of life. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The safety of moral return
Christmas Evans was once describing the prodigals coming back to his fathers house, and he said that when the prodigal sat at the fathers table his father put upon his plate all the daintiest bits of meat that he could find; but the son sat there and did not eat, and every now and then the tears began to flow. His father turned to him and said, My dear son, why are you unhappy? You spoil the feasting. Do you not know that I love you? Have I not joyfully received you? Yes, he said, dear father, you are very kind, but have you really forgiven me? Have you forgiven me altogether, so that you will never be angry with me for all I have done? His father looked on him with ineffable love and said, I have blotted out thy sins and thy iniquities, and will remember them no more for ever. Eat, my dear son. The father turned round and waited on the guests, but by and by his eyes were on his boy, they could not be long removed. There was the son weeping again, but not eating. Come, dear child, said his father, come, why are you still mourning? What is it that you want? Bursting into a flood of tears a second time, the son said, Father, am I always to stop here? Will you never turn me out of doors? The father replied, No, my child, thou shalt go no more out for ever, for a son abides for ever. Still the son did not enjoy the banquet; there was still something rankling within, and again he wept. Then his father said, Now, tell me, tell me, my dear son, all that is in thy heart. What do you desire more? The son answered, Father, will you make me stop here? Father, I am afraid lest, if I were left to myself, I might play the prodigal again. Oh, constrain me to stay here for ever! The father said, I will put my fear in thy heart, and thou shalt not depart from me. Ah! then, the son replied, it is enough, and merrily he feasted with the rest. So I preach to you just this--that the great Father, when He takes you to Himself, will never let you go away from Him again. Whatever your condition, if you trust your soul to Jesus, you shall be saved, and saved for ever. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Heavenly merry-makings
It is now his turn to act the prodigal in lavishing all upon the penitent. Little wonder that the elder brother reproached the father as the greater prodigal of the two. Such a costly merry-making had never been in their quiet home. The prodigality of grace surpasses the prodigality of sin. The best robe, the ring, and the shoes were the dress of a free-born son, and showed to all that the lost son had received the highest favours the father could bestow. The fatted calf was well known to the servants, as at Jewish farms a Calf was fattened for great festivals. And they began to be merry (Luk_15:24), but we are not told when they ended. Heaven has its merry-makings as well as earth, and they celebrate the prodigals home-coming. (J. Wells.)
His elder son
The elder son
The elder son was one who had always remained at that very home from which the younger had wandered, and to which he had at last returned. He had been a faithful son, doing his fathers commandments, and the parable would lose all its point, unless we were to see in it a picture of a fathers heart which has depth and warmth enough not only to love a son who obeys, but to forgive a son who disobeys and repents. The elder son was not therefore a self-righteous Pharisee. He was not a hypocrite. But he was a somewhat narrow good man. He was a type of thousands among the Jews, and of thousands still among Christians, who look with jealous suspicion upon all who have been once abandoned and now have repented and turned to God. They have never fathomed the depths of sin. From their childhood they have walked uprightly.
I. In the first place we may see that THE POSITION OF THE ELDER SON IS PREFERABLE TO THAT OF THE YOUNGER BECAUSE OF THE RISK HE ESCAPED. It is true that the younger son returned, but then he might not have returned. When he turned his back upon his fathers house, it might have been for ever.
II. The position of the elder brother is preferable BECAUSE A LIFE OF CONTINUOUS GODLINESS IS FAR EASIER THAN A LIFE OF GODLINESS SUCCEEDING A LIFE OF SIN. The prodigal, remember, does not start life afresh. He is not brought back to the point of innocence from which he started. His soul is not cleared and cleansed from all the past. If he be able to exercise a fair command over his speech and outward conduct, so as not to break out into the words and deeds of his profligate career, think how his memory and his imagination are poisoned! He has to undo so much that has been done. He has to strive hard to break the links of association which connect him with evil thoughts. What would he not sacrifice if he could but just wipe out of his remembrance the tormenting, polluting past. But he cannot. Though it be forgiven by God, it is there still to be struggled with. He has to pull down much that he has built up; he has to tear up much that he has planted; he has to put a double watch at those points where he so often fell; he often feels the old sin reviving and struggling for mastery again, and trembles lest he should be vanquished. Whereas the son who has remained at home has grown up into godliness with his advancing years.
III. Viewed as a whole, THE LIFE OF THE SON WHO REMAINED AT HOME MUST YIELD FAR MORE PLEASURE TO GOD THAN THE LIFE OF THE SON WHO WANDERS AND THEN RETURNS. Let experience be called in to testify which is preferable, the joy which a parent has over a son who is obedient and virtuous, who never sets at nought the laws of the house, whose ear is ever ready to hear and hands to do the will of his father, the serene joy which is felt every day and all the day, the joy which is like quiet and peaceful sunshine, or that tumultuous gladness which, after years of pain and sorrow over a sons profligacy, welcomes him home. Let any parent on earth who has the well-being of his children at heart answer, and he will say, Give me the obedient, loving son, with the quiet tranquil joy from day to day, before the brief ecstasy after long agony, which arises from a repenting prodigal. The one is but a mountain torrent--the other is a deep and noiseless stream. And as with the parent so too with the children; the joy of the obedient one is higher than that of the returning one. It may not seem so, because of the feast which the returning one sees provided for him. The merriment will cease. The fatted calf will not be killed again to-morrow. Even the prodigals joy will sober down after a while, and he will have to find a sweeter banquet, though a less exciting one, in doing the will of his father. (E. Mellor, D. D.)
The prodigals elder brother
1. The first point which we have to consider is, that the elder could not rejoice, on account of jealousy, in the return of his younger brother. That such a character should take no delight in welcoming one of his own blood from habits which were leading him to inevitable ruin is a most humiliating proof that every man at his best estate is altogether vanity. Nor can we suppose that our Lord intends us to regard this character as an exception to the general rule; quite the reverse. We may find in this elder brother our own likeness. There is scarcely a fault more common than this very jealousy and grudging of good to others. In proof of this, a sceptical philosopher, whose wisdom we may suppose was not drawn from the sacred page, but from his own observation, has sneeringly affirmed that we rejoice in the misfortunes of our friends; and, though we may hope this is not universally true, it certainly requires much more Christian charity than most of us possess to rejoice from the heart in our neighbours good fortune.
2. The second remarkable point in the character of the elder brother is, that he set a value and merit upon his own decent behaviour. Now nothing can be more fatal to a right view of our position towards God than to suppose that any merit can attach to our obedience; or that it would be less incumbent upon us to obey were all prospective recompense removed! The only sound reason why we should ever live well is that God has commanded it--the only motive which can effectually influence our conduct is love for Him.
The conclusion to be drawn from this brief consideration of the elder brothers character is what I have already summed up in the early part of my discourse.
1. In the first place, his past respectable domestic conduct could not have been the fruits of genuine good affections. Throughout the parable there is not the faintest trace of affection for any one but himself.
2. Secondly, it is evident that, however good his life may have been, his real taste was not for holiness and what is right. The mere fact that he could not take delight in the reformation of his brother is sufficient to prove this.
3. Finally, the many years service of which the elder brother boasted had not been given out of love to his parent: if he had not been watching from time to time for instances of parental indulgence, he could at any rate feel they were his due--Long as I have served thee thou never gavest me a kid! Thus did want of real love for his father unamiably show itself, hidden probably alike from himself and others until circumstances arose to develop it. Such a deficiency strikes at once all remaining interest from his character; and stained in sin as the prodigal had been, still, in his remnant of good affections, we trace how Divine grace operates more easily, and conquers more effectually, when it has to combat the vices of youthful excess, than when it has to contend with decent formalism, a hard and cold heart, a jealous temper, self-righteousness, and conceit. (A. Gatty, D. D.)
The elder son
It was a joyless life, that of the old son. While his dull round of duty lacked the colour and merriment of the prodigals gay time, it found no compensation from any sympathy of affection betwixt himself and his father. They were men of very different characters. The fathers heart yearned incessantly after his lost boy; but this worker in the field wasted no love on him. Alone or with the labourers he wrought; and his chief intercourse with his father was when he took his orders. Hear his own account of it: These many years do I slave to thee, nor did I transgress at any time thy command. To be a bondservant, that was his chosen place; to have wilfully disobeyed no injunction, that was his boast. Yet he had friends elsewhere who were not his fathers friends, and desires after other company than met at his fathers table; for, had he earned any pleasure by his toil, it would have been, he says, a kid with which to make merry with his own companions. Even this he did not get. It was thankless service. No glow of family love warmed it. Yet, if not quite satisfied, the old son was in a measure content to hold this unsonlike place, just because his cold heart had never dreamed that sonship meant anything more than this. The problem was, how to teach him that; how to open up what tender ness the heart of his father held, and what the claim of a son really meant, so that he shall discover that he for one has never yet entered into the joy of that relationship, nor known what is the deep confidential love which binds true parent and true child in one. What, then, does sonship really mean? It means that there is more sacred strength in that single word son than in ever so many years of laborious servitude; for it is the power of love and not of law which says, All that I have is thine. It means that this Father of yours, whom you have been observing as a taskmaster, and misjudging as a niggard, you have never really known in His Fatherhood; for see, to this scapegrace, just because he is become again a son indeed, and dares to trust the fathers heart, that fathers heart brims over instantly with unutterable tenderness and a generosity that knows no bounds. Oh, it means, if you will learn it, that you have been as little of a true son as this pitied outcast; else might you also have rejoiced all through these weary years past, in a love no less strong, in a joy no less deep, than the love and joy of this festive day; nay, more deep and strong, if less noisy or exuberant, because springing out of the calm depths of an unbroken intercourse, unmarred by the memory of separation or the shadow of guilt; for Thou art ever with me! (J. O. Dykes, D. D.)
The elder brother
The aim of every Christian is to be complete in Christ; but how many of His own are poor in the possession of His sympathies, His generosity and meekness, His large views? Let us see how these are represented by the elder brother, and show how our Father in heaven deals with the errors of such a disposition.
I. THE SOURCES OF IMPERFECTION IN THIS CHARACTER.
1. Wrong views of the character of God. This man had not sufficient trust in the integrity and goodness of his father.
2. Wrong views of the nature of religious service. This elder brother considered the service of his father as legal and constrained. The child of God ought to have feeling of possession in the property of his Father, serving Him as a son who is native to the inheritance.
3. Wrong feeling towards the objects of the Divine mercy. To mention the evils of his brothers life, at such a time as this, was bad taste, and worse feeling. He might have trusted the honest affection of his father, and waited till his own soul rose to that high eminence. That feeling Which refuses to recognize a man as one of the family of Gods because he has greatly sinned, is a bad feeling.
II. THE DIVINE REMEDY. The same love which received the prodigal home now argues with the narrow-minded saint. That love is great to cover faults, and to develop the most unpromising germs of goodness. It is not expended in the single effort of forgiveness, but has reserves of force to transform, purify, and elevate. There are souls within the kingdom of God who are not fully in sympathy with the greatness of the Divine love. There are surfaces on which, when the light falls, some of the rays are quenched, and the reflection is imperfect. There are some souls who fail to reflect the full splendour of the love of God. What we know of this heavenly principle depends upon what we are able to receive.
1. The first remedy for this state of mind is to impress us with the sacredness and worth of true feeling. There is a logic of the heart which no sophistry can invade or dissipate. Let us follow those impulses of the Divine love within us, though we cannot now mark out by our reason the whole journey. At what time the mind disposes to unbelief, the heart can restore us to faith.
2. Another remedy is--We are reminded that Gods resources are infinite. Lavish bounty of design and provision is the rule of nature. How grudging and narrow is man! How good is God!
3. We are reminded that constancy of service is superior to sudden rapture. (The Lay Preacher.)
He was angry
The angry brother
I. THE WANT OF SYMPATHY WITH A BROTHERS CONVERSION. The prodigals brother is angry and will not go in. Angry at what? The salvation of a brother! The reception of the lost one home again! No true saint will look coldly on a poor sinner who staggers to the mercy-seat.
II. SELFISHNESS PASSING CENSURE ON CAUSES FOR GLADNESS. Selfishness is a fire that burns all love out of the soul. Selfishness is an angry beast whose iron hoot crushes every flower in the garden of sympathy. Selfishness is a monster that has no eye for the beautiful, no ear for music, no appreciation of poetry or sentiment. Selfishness is a lean-souled miser who would snatch a crust from the hand of a beggar, and would begrudge hospitality to a starving wanderer.
III. ANGER SHUTTING OUT FROM A FEAST OF JOY. He was angry and would not go in. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The elder sons dissatisfaction
How plausible this reasoning sounds! How perfectly invincible it must have seemed to this dutiful son! And yet, if we examine it, what does it come to but this? I have been obedient, and I ought to be paid for my obedience. My brother has been disobedient. Why art thou glad that he has ceased to be disobedient? I see no cause for satisfaction in that. It causes me no delight. Here is that flagrant opposition between the Divine purpose and the purpose of those who had been called to be the ministers of His will and purpose, which our Lord has been detecting in all His dealings with the scribes and Pharisees? The Fathers joy is in the restoration of the lost. You have no such joy. You think the removal of their curse, of their sin, is an injury to you. But is this consistent with the words, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. Thoroughly consistent. For what do these words signify but this: Son, I have called thee to know my goodness and loving-kindness. I have called thee to be a dispenser of that knowledge to the children of men. I can give thee no greater treasure. I can make thee partaker of no higher bliss than my own. Thou wilt not have that? Thou wishest for another kind of joy than mine? Well, if thou choosest it, thou must have it. Thou must try what that selfish joy is worth; whether it satisfies thee better than the husks which the swine eat have satisfied thy brother. But before thou formest that terrible resolution, I will come out and entreat thee. I will urge thee to partake of my festival. I will vindicate thy right to it. I will conjure thee to enter into thy fathers blessedness. Thou dost enter it when thou ownest the outcast for thy brother, when thou makest merry and art glad because he was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found. So pleaded the Eternal Father by the mouth of Jesus with His Jewish people. So pleads He with us in this Passion Week. Do you want wages for your virtue, for your faith, for your superiority to the rest of mankind? You must ask the devil for those wages; for the service of pride he will give you strictly and punctually the wages of death. Do you desire the delight of the Father who so loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son for it? Do you want the delight of the Son who poured out His blood for all men, who is the Saviour of all men? Do you want the delight of the Spirit, who is seeking to bring all to repentance and the knowledge of the truth? Son, thou art ever with Me, and all that I have is thine. Thou mayest possess My own character. Thou mayest declare My purpose to those who have lost themselves. Thou mayest be My instrument in finding them. And if they never hear thy feeble voice, thou needest not doubt that they will hear the voice of the Son of Man; that by hunger and misery He will remind them of their Fathers house; that they will arise and go to Him; that He will meet them when they are a great way off; that He will embrace them and bring them to His banquet; that His Spirit will enable them to feed on the perfect Sacrifice, and to offer themselves acceptable sacrifices to Him. (F. D. Maurice, M. A.)
Self-importance
1. Observe how self-importance makes a man moody and unhappy. He who is always thinking of his own excellences, renders himself thereby unfit to enjoy the good of others, and is prone to imagine that every token of affection given to another is an insult offered to himself. Hence he is touchy, sensitive, irritable, and envious. There is no surer way to make ourselves miserable than to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think. It isolates us from all about us. May God deliver us from this idolatry of self, on whose altar all true nobleness and real happiness are completely immolated!
2. Notice, again, how repulsive to others this self-important spirit is. You cannot take to this elder brother. Even in his wanderings and sins, the younger was more lovable than he, his industry and sobriety notwithstanding. So it is ever with the selfish one. He is a non-conductor in society. The electricity of love never passes through him; and in the end, all loving hearts are driven from him. Thus he is not only the most unhappy, but also the most useless of men. He has no magnetism about him. He can gain no entrance into the hearts of others. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
The elder sons disposition
When a Christian of long standing and irreproachable character, who has known some degree of happiness in Christ, but has not had anything approaching to ecstasy, is inclined to be suspicious of the genuineness of the transport of him who has just been converted from a life of grossest sin, and is disposed, in envy, to ask, Why should such experiences be granted to him, while I, who have been seeking to follow Jesus all my days, know nothing of them? we have the working of the same disposition as that which the elder brother here displayed. When a minister of age and excellence, who is mourning over the apparent fruitlessness of his labours, is tempted to ask how it comes that a young brother, in the very outset of his career, is made instrumental in bringing multitudes to Christ, and permits himself to think, if not to say, that it is mean in God to pass by an old and faithful servant such as he has been, and to use and bless an inexperienced lad; or when a stickler for order and decorum murmurs that the Lord should honour with success the irregularities of a revival meeting, and the labours of some converted burglar, in larger measure than he seems to bless the stated workings of the authorized ministry in the ordinary exercises of the sanctuary; or when some father, prominent in the Church for piety and usefulness, is led, in his haste and in his self-importance, to ask, How comes it that the children of this one and that one--of little name among the brethren, and hardly known for their zeal and devotedness--are all converted, while my son is permitted to grow up in sin, and to become to me a source of constant anxiety?--in each and all of these we have a phasis of that unlovely disposition which, in the elder brother, is here condemned. The Sabbath-school teacher who throws up the work because another seems more successful in it than himself; the labourer in any department of benevolent activity, who, because he thinks that more is made of some one else than of himself, gives way to personal pique, and will have no more to do with the concern; the over-sensitive, irritable, petted man, who is for ever taking offence, and manages somehow to exclude himself from every society with which he has been connected, and to estrange himself from the sympathy and co-operation of all with whom he has come into contact; may all look here, and in the elder brother of this parable they will behold themselves. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
Elder brotherliness
Some years ago I preached to my congregation in Liverpool, one Lords Day morning, from this episode in the parable of the Prodigal Son. As I was leaving the church for my home, I was requested to visit a dying man whom I had seen frequently before, but who was just then, apparently, about to pass within the veil. He had been for many years a careless and irreligious man; but as I spoke with him from time to time, I marked that a great change had come over him. I had conversed faithfully and earnestly with him, of Jesus and His salvation; and he had turned in sincere penitence to his Father, and was, as I sincerely believe, accepted with Him. When I entered his room that morning, I found him in great happiness, rejoicing in the near prospect of being with his Lord, and apparently perfectly happy. I talked with him a little on the things of the kingdom, and after prayer I took my leave. His brother-in-law followed me downstairs, and said, I cannot understand this at all. Here have I been serving Christ for these twenty years, and I have never experienced such joy as he expresses; and yet he has not been a Christian, if he be really one, for more than a few weeks. Immediately I recognized the elder brother, and I stayed long enough to show him just how he looked in the light of this parable. I told him that I had been preaching about him that very morning. About me? he said. Yes, about you; and I then went on to explain to him the meaning of this episode, while I warned him of the danger of being angry, and refusing to go into the Fathers house to share the joy over the returning prodigal. The result was that he saw his error, and was delivered from his envy. Now, that incident, occurring just at that precise time, has given a new point to the parable in my view ever since, and makes me far more anxious to get the elder-brotherliness out of my own heart than to identify the elder brother with any particular class. (W. M. Taylor, D. D.)
Pharisaism in ourselves
There is sufficient Pharisaism in each of us to justify the application of this to ourselves. They who have long served God with care and diligence, and yet find their life a hard struggle, with few bright passages, many disappointments, and never joy such as the penitent at once enters into, naturally feel some soreness that one step should bring a lifelong sinner abreast of them. You may have been striving all your days to be useful, and making great sacrifices to further what you believe to be the cause of God, and yet you cannot point to any success; but suddenly a man converted yesterday takes your place, and all things seem to shape themselves to his hand, and the field that was a heart-break to you is fertile to him. You have denied yourself every pleasure that you might know the happiness of communion with God, and you have not known it, but you see a banquet spread in Gods presence for him who has till this hour been delighting in sin. You have had neither the riotous living nor the fatted calf. You have gone among the abandoned and neglected, and striven to enlighten and lift them; you have done violence to your own feelings that you might be helpful to others; and, so far as you can see, nothing has come of it. But another man who has lived irregularly, who has not prepared himself for the work, who is untaught, imprudent, unsatisfactory, has the immediate joy of winning souls to God. Have you not been tempted to say, Verily, I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency? All this may be needful to convince you that it is not service that wins Gods love; that His love is with you now, and that your acceptance of it will make all that has seemed to you grievous to be light and happy. Take refuge from all failure and disappointment in the words, Son, I am ever with thee, and all that I have is thine. Learn to find your joy in Him, and you will be unable to think of any reward. (Marcus Dods, D. D.)
Contracted views in religion
In the conduct of the father, there seemed, at first sight, an evident departure from the rules of fairness and justice. Here was a reprobate son received into his favour on the first stirrings of repentance. What was the use of serving him dutifully, if there were no difference in the end between the righteous and the wicked? This is what we feel and act upon in life constantly. In doing good to the poor, for instance, a chief object is to encourage industrious and provident habits; and it is evident we should hurt and disappoint the better sort, and defeat our object, if, after all, we did not take into account the difference of their conduct, though we promised to do so, but gave those who did not work nor save all the benefits granted to those who did. The elder brothers case, then, seemed a hard one; and that, even without supposing him to feel jealous, or to have unsuitable notions of his own importance and usefulness. Apply this to the case of religion, and it still holds good. At first sight, the reception of the penitent sinner seems to interfere with the reward of the faithful servant of God. Just as the promise of pardon is abused by bad men to encourage themselves in sinning on, that grace may abound; so, on the other hand, it is misapprehended by the good, so as to dispirit them. For what is our great stay and consolation amid the perturbations of this world? The truth and justice of God. This is our one light in the midst of darkness. He loveth righteousness, and hateth iniquity; just and right is He. Where else should we find rest for our foot all over the world? The condescending answer of the father in the parable is most instructive. It sanctions the great truth which seemed in jeopardy, that it is not the same thing in the end to obey or disobey, expressly telling us that the Christian penitent is not placed on a footing with those who have consistently served God from the first. Son, thou art ever with Me, and all that I have is thine: that is, why this sudden fear and distrust? can there be any misconception on thy part because I welcome thy brother? dost thou not yet understand Me? Surely thou hast known Me too long to suppose that thou canst lose by his gain. Thou art in My confidence. I do not make any outward display of kindness towards thee, for it is a thing to be taken for granted. We give praise and make professions to strangers, not to friends. Thou art My heir, all that I have is thine. O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt? Who could have thought that it were needful to tell to thee truths which thou hast heard all thy life long? Thou art ever with Me; and canst thou really grudge that I should by one mere act of rejoicing, show My satisfaction at the sinners recovery, and should console him with a promise of mercy, who, before he heard of it, was sinking down under the dread of deserved punishment? It was meet that we should, make merry and be glad, thou as well as thy Father. Such is our merciful Gods answer to His suspicious servants, who think He cannot pardon the sinner without withdrawing His favour from them; and it contains in it both a consolation for the perplexed believer not to distrust Him; and again, a warning to the disobedient, not to suppose that repentance makes all straight and even, and puts a man in the same place as if he had never departed from grace given. But let us now notice the unworthy feeling which appears in the conduct of the elder brother. He was angry, and would not go into the house. How may this be fulfilled in our own case? There exists a great deal of infirmity and foolishness even in the better sort of men. This is not to be wondered at, considering the original corrupt state of their nature, however it is to be deplored, repented, of, and corrected. Good men are, like Elijah, jealous for the Lord God of hosts, and rightly solicitous to see His tokens around them, the pledges of His unchangeable just government; but then they mix with such good feelings undue notions of self-importance, of which they are not aware. This seemingly was the state of mind which dictated the complaint of the elder brother. This will especially happen in the case of those who are in the most favoured situations in the Church. All places possess their peculiar temptation. Quietness and peace, those greatest of blessings, constitute the trial of the Christians who enjoy them. They become not only over-confident of their knowledge of Gods ways, but positive in their over-confidence. They are apt to presume, and so to become irreverent. Give them much, they soon forget it is much; and when they find it is not all, and that for other men, too, even for penitents, God has some good in store, straightway they are offended. Without denying in words their own natural unworthiness, and still having real convictions of it to a certain point, nevertheless, somehow, they have a certain secret aver-regard for themselves; at least they act as if they thought that the Christian privileges belonged to them over others, by a sort of fitness. And they like respect to be shown them by the world, and are jealous of anything which is likely to interfere with the continuance of their credit and authority. Perhaps, too, they have pledged themselves to certain received opinions, and this is an additional reason for their being suspicious of what to them is a novelty. Hence such persons are least fitted to deal with difficult times. God works wondrously in the world; and at certain eras His providence puts on a new aspect. Religion seems to be failing, when it is merely changing its form. God seems for an instant to desert His own appointed instruments, and to be putting honour upon such as have been framed in express disobedience to His commands. For instance, sometimes He brings about good by means of wicked men, or seems to bless the efforts of those who have separated from His Holy Church more than those of His true labourers. Here is the trial of the Christian faith, who, if the fact is so, must not resist it, lest haply he be found fighting against God, nor must he quarrel with it after the manner of the elder brother; But he must take everything as Gods gift, hold fast his principles, not give them up because appearances are for the moment against them, but believe all things will come round at length. On the other hand, he must not cease to beg of God, and try to gain, the spirit of a sound mind, the power to separate truth from falsehood, and to try the spirits, the disposition to submit to Gods teaching, and the wisdom to act as the varied course of affairs requires. (J. H. Newman, D. D.)
Son, thou art ever with me
Constant obedience better than repentance
Here the father, who at first rejoiced so greatly at the return of the prodigal, yet in his sedate judgment makes a wide difference between the penitent son and the innocent son. Let us, then, make out this point.
1. It is in itself a singular advantage to have set out well betimes, and to have kept the right way, like the elder son in the parable, who always adhered to his father. There is a sort of proverb which says that a young saint makes an old sinner; a young angel makes an old devil. But this proverb seems to have been made by the devil, or by one of his agents, on purpose to ridicule and discourage an early piety, which of all acquisitions is the most valuable.
2. They have likewise this advantage, that the difficulties, struggles, and dangers, which they have to encounter, are not so formidable as those to which sinners remain exposed, even after their repentance and their good resolutions. Nothing is so hard as to overcome old vices, and to root up evil habits; for by custom they have taken firm hold, just like chronical diseases, which are seldom cured. From such grievous inconveniences he is freed who hath been accustomed to regular obedience.
3. There cannot be that settled content and security in the return and repentance of a sinner, as there is in an uniform and unbroken compliance with the laws of God. His hope will not be without a mixture of fear, as his fear is not without a mixture of hope.
4. Neither can such a penitent be so much in the favour of God, and so highly rewarded by Him, as one of more constant and regular virtues. This is a plain rule of eternal justice; it follows from the declarations that God will render to every one according to his works.
5. A regular obedience makes us more truly and properly the children of God.
Let us now review a little the nature of the foregoing doctrine.
1. This doctrine allows whatsoever is due to repentance, and excludes none of the encouragements to it. Repentance is the sovereign cure for the worst diseases of the soul; but it must be applied in due time. Yet still it is better to be always well, than too often to stand in need of this medicine.
2. Be it observed that we are speaking all this while of repentance for evil habits, and for great and wilful offences; and as to this repentance, it is to be hoped that many Christians stand not in need of it.
3. This shows the advantage of early habits of goodness. Nothing makes religion sit so well upon us, as when it hath taken the first possession of the mind.
4. This doctrine prevents a common and pernicious mistake about repentance; and that is, to delay it, and, to trust that a late sorrow and remorse shall reinstate an offender in the favour of God.
5. This doctrine stands upon such plain and solid principles, that no interpretation of any passages of Scripture contrary to it can possibly be true. (J. Jortin, D. D.)
Ever with God
All will admit that the angels in light have ever been, and ever are, with God; but the question has sometimes been keenly discussed among critics and theologians, May it be said that, during this dispensation of the Holy Spirit, some children have been so admirably trained, that they have never wholly left their Heavenly Father, but have been ever with Him? A sermon was once preached on this parable, by an earnest minister of the gospel, during a series of revival meetings, in which he went the length of saying that it might be maintained concerning those who could not recollect a time when they did not love Christ, that, like the elder son, they had never left their Father. They might be imperfect like him, and need forgiveness, as he evidently needed it--still they had never wholly left their Father. In supporting this position, the preacher could not see that he was doing any disrespect to the grace of God. Indeed, he was rather magnifying it, since God had promised to be the God of His peoples seed, as well as their own God. When I was asked my opinion concerning this representation, I replied that I was inclined to go that length myself. There seems still to be such a thing as being called from the womb. Observe, this tenet does not involve a denial of human depravity. It does not amount to the assertion that any responsible human being has lived an absolutely perfect life, being literally free from sin, except the Lord Jesus Christ. It only ventures humbly to express the hope, to the praise of the glory of Gods grace, that where there has been much parental prayer and exemplary religious education, the first springs of thought and will may have been so early gained for the Redeemer, that the soul, although conscious of waywardness and sin, and therefore needing atoning blood, has never been wholly withdrawn from Gods fold, so that He could say to such a follower near the end of his course, Son, thou hast ever been and ever art near Me. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Love for all
There is room for all. Sometimes, when a little babe has been born in a house, the elder child is jealous. The two-year-old envier has been seen using its, happily not very forcible, fists against the tiny occupant of the cradle, because its arrival had deprived him of customary attention, and of that monopoly of love which he had enjoyed before. Then the concerned parent has taken the sulking pugilist on her knee and, with a tear in her eye, has said, You are mothers pet still. She has room in her heart for you and your baby brother too. You will always be mothers child, although baby has come home--only you have been here many days, but he is only newly arrived. Therefore, wonder not at our joy, and grieve not, if for a time, you seem to be overlooked. This is exactly the argument of the text, with the element of prodigality left out. (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
It was meet that we should make merry
Good reasons for joy
1. It is meet that we should rejoice, because when a sinner is brought to repentance, the kingdom of Christ is thereby promoted. He is all in all. Everything turns upon your receiving Him. Life and death, heaven or hell, felicity or ruin, here and hereafter, all rest with Him.
2. It is meet that we should rejoice, because, then, an immortal creature is rescued from misery, and another traveller is on the road to heaven.
3. It is meet that we should rejoice, because a sinner brought to repentance will injure others no more. When a sinner is converted, another agent of destruction is removed. Another gun on the enemys ramparts is spiked. Another soldier in Satans army is struck down. Another poison-chalice is dashed from the devils hand. Another upas tree is uprooted. Another electric cloud is dispersed, to send down thunder and death no more. Another vessel of honour is placed in the Masters house, prepared for His use, to be employed hereafter in His blessed and holy service. (W. B. Mackenzie, M. A.)
Gods joy at the sinners return
I saw in Amsterdam the diamond cutting, and I noticed great wheels, a large factory and powerful engines, and all the power was made to bear upon a small stone no larger than the nail of my little finger. All that huge machinery for that little stone, because it was so precious! Methinks I see you poor insignificant sinners, who have rebelled against your God, brought back to your Fathers house, and now the whole universe is full of wheels, and all those wheels are working together for your good, to make out of you a jewel fit to glisten in the Redeemers crown. God is not represented as saying more of creation than that it was very good, but in the work of grace He is described as singing for joy. He breaks the eternal silence, and cries, My son is found. As the philosopher, when he had compelled nature to yield her secret, ran through the street, crying, Eureka! Eureka! I have found it! I have found it! so does the Father dwell on the word, My son that was dead, is alive again, he that was lost is found. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Was dead, and is alive again
Life after death
Startling tales are sometimes related around the fire, on a winters night, of the dead who have come to life again. I remember being told in my youth that the mother of two eminent ministers bad been buried in a swoon before her twin sons were born. The covetous sexton, having opened her grave, was cutting off her finger to get her gold marriage ring, when she awoke and spoke. Who could envy such an one a joyous jubilation on her return to life? And who should envy the quickened sinner the honour that is paid him by God and man? For he is often brought to spiritual life when the Lord, by His faithful knife of chastisement, cuts some prized and precious treasure away. Some time ago the great Dr. Livingstone was thought to be dead--wholly lost in the African wilds. I so thoroughly believed the report which his lying companions circulated, that I preached a discourse which was designed to do him honour, and especially the God he had served. I take great pleasure in here acknowledging that my discourse was premature, and in expressing my delight at the news of the Doctors safety which has since reached our shores, as well as my hope that he may soon be welcomed home by his friends safe and sound. And what friend or fellow-townsman could grudge him a very special and remarkable reception--because he was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found? This is the very expostulation by means of which the Saviour in this parable seeks to still the murmurs of the Pharisees, and which at every time of revival earnestness and revival success is specially appropriate. A young woman mentioned to me one day that her brother, an engineer in a steamer between Bombay and the Red Sea, bad informed her in a recent letter that he saw the Abyssinian prisoners land at Suez. They looked pale and exhausted. They had the appearance of people who had suffered much by anxiety and confinement. But, as they stepped ashore, all the Europeans crowded around and gave them three hearty cheers, which they acknowledged with smiles of gratitude and satisfaction. I wish that I had seen them land. I would have cheered too with all my might. For Britain had done a grand thing in sending out that expedition--enough to stamp her as in reality Great Britain in the eyes of the nations. Nor can we find a better illustration of the gospel. It was meet that the sympathizing spectators at Suez should make the welkin ring with their shouts of joy; for the captives of Theodore, like the captives of sin and Satan, had been dead, and were alive again; and had been lost, and were found. And who could grudge them such a welcome to life and liberty again? (F. Ferguson, D. D.)
Concluding reflection on this parable
If Joh_3:16, and 1Ti_1:15, have been the most useful of Scripture texts, the parable of the prodigal son has been one of the most useful of Scripture paragraphs. If Rom_3:19-31 has ever been esteemed by scholars the locus classicus for the display of the righteousness of God, Luk_15:11-32, has ever been regarded by evangelists as the locus sanctus et fertilis for the display of the love of God. I would also observe that it suits rich and poor alike. I was paying a pastoral visit one day to one of the officials of a great poor-house in the neighbourhood of the city in which my lot has been cast. The chaplain asked me to conduct evening prayers. I found myself placed in unwonted circumstances. I stood in a spacious hall, capable of containing fifteen hundred individuals, and seated like a church. About twelve hundred paupers joined in the evening devotions. Three times a day they were wont to assemble there to receive the plain supplies of the bread that perisheth, which charity had provided; and, twice a day, to worship God. My heart filled as they sang with me the beautiful paraphrase, beginning O God of Bethel, by whose hand, and especially when they came to the couplet--
Ospread Thy covering wings around
Till all our wanderings cease;
for the great building in which they sang in rough, unpolished strains, since it had been reared by Christ-inspired benevolence, looked like the covering wings of the Almighty, which had been spread around them. In the course of conversation, at the close of the service, the chaplain informed me that several of the ministers of the city had preached on the Sabbath evenings of the preceding summer, and that the poor people had been greatly delighted with their discourses. But what had pleased them most of all had been a sermon by the late Doctor Norman Macleod on the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I had noticed in the newspapers that he had delivered the same sermon, a few weeks before, to a fashionable audience, when many carriages were standing at the door. It delighted me that he had dispensed that identical supply of the bread of life to the inmates of the poor-house; for, in truth, we are all on a level. We are all Gods offspring, and are all pensioners on His bounty. The poor people had enjoyed greatly the rich representation of the love of God which the parable contains. Many of them had been bathed in tears. For the career of the prodigal had been their career. They would not have been glad of the poor-house, if they had not wasted their substance with riotous living. And not only had the arms of the worlds charity been opened to receive them, but, warmer and kindlier far, the arms of the Divine good-will were ready to clasp them round. Yes, the parable to which I am bidding farewell for the present suits the high and low, the rich and poor, the West End and the East End alike. Lastly, it is capable of edifying application to the hour of death. Here we are all in a far country. At home in the body, we are absent from the Lord. We often feel that our engagements and pursuits are, like the prodigals occupation, beneath the dignity of our immortal spirits. Amid degraded men we sigh for the purity and royalty of our Fathers house on high. At length a gentle summons comes in friendly disease; and the dying Christian, responding to the call, says, I will arise and go to my Father. As he lies upon his bed of pain, in crowded city or rural hamlet, his Father sees him afar off and has compassion on him. By the kind ministrations of His grace, He makes all his bed in his sickness. At length, when his disembodied spirit approaches the heavenly house, a fathers kiss and a fathers welcome are received. Then the robe of glory, the ring of full redemption, and spiritual shoes, are given to the weary traveller. Oh, what rejoicing takes place over his safe arrival, at the heavenly feast, amid whose transports he completely forgets the sorrows of the far country! No sullen celestials seem jealous of his cordial reception--
The wondering angels round Him throng
And swell the chorus of His praise.?
(F. Ferguson, D. D.)
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The Biblical Illustrator, edited by Joseph S. Exell (c. 1880s–1900s) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
B. W. Johnson 1891 · Public Domain 11–32. The Parable of the Lost Son. The two…
11–32. The Parable of the Lost Son. The two preceding parables represent Christ seeking for the lost; this, the sinner seeking for the Father's house; all three, the rejoicing over repentance. A certain man had two sons. There is something in this inimitable parable which goes straight to every human heart. It is almost impossible to refuse an entrance to it. It storms the strongest fortress of the soul, by its appeal to the latent sensibility to impression, that dormant or sepulchered humanness which underlies in every man his surface of passion or pride; it makes its way to the sympathy of the rudest, and surprises the most callous into the emotion which finds its best relief in tears. The child loves to hear its simple and affecting story, and many a criminal whom crime has done its worst to harden has been subdued by some stray hearing of its experience, it seemed so like his own.—Punshon. In this parable the father is the Heavenly Father; the elder son, the self-righteous, in this case the Pharisees and scribes; the younger son, the sinful, in this case the publicans and sinners.
Give me the portion of thy substance. A selfish and unfilial demand, suitable to the sinner who demands of God to give, but returns no gratitude. He divided unto them his living. The elder would receive two shares and the younger one (Deut. 21:17).
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Into a far country. Wandered far away from the Father's house, from God. Wasted his substance. All do in that far country. The worldly life is a wasted life. It is more baneful to waste our spiritual opportunities and resources than to waste earthly goods. There arose a mighty famine. There is always one afar from God. The world cannot satisfy the soul. He began to be in want. Many a lost one who has wasted all feels the want so deeply as to destroy his life. Byron is said to “have died of wretchedness.”
To feed swine. The lowest possible occupation for a Jew.
With the husks. The pods of the carob tree. The husks of animal pleasures cannot satisfy the soul.
When he came to himself. Sin is an infatuation, a craze. When the blinded eyes of the soul are opened no man is content to abide in sin; that is, in destruction. How many hired servants. The son was now himself a hired servant; so are all sinners, and the service is a hard one.
I will arise and go. This resolve is repentance, the change of purpose and heart. He is led to it by his sense of need, the burden of sin. Father, I have sinned. His change of heart, or repentance, must be followed by confession.
Am no more worthy. His own claims of worth are gone. He has proved worthless. He is willing to take the humblest place in his father's house. Humility and consecration follow genuine repentance.
He arose and came to his father. The sinner comes by faith, repentance, and obedience to Christ. The spirit must come. To come he must turn, leave the far country, sinful associations, and enter into spiritual union with Christ by baptism (Gal. 3:27; Rom. 6:3, 4). His father … was moved with compassion. No sternness, no need of prayers; the father no sooner saw the wanderer coming than he rushed to meet him. How often is it written of Christ, He had compassion. So, too, of the Father for the penitent sinner; the father does not even wait for the confession the son had resolved to make. Love cannot wait when it recognizes the purpose.
The father said. He interrupted the confession of the prodigal. Bring forth the best robe. He had returned in rags. The best robe is the white robe of the righteousness of Christ. A ring on his hand. A ring with a seal was a symbol of authority, of sonship. Shoes on his feet. Servants went barefoot, but the shoes were a symbol of freedom.
Bring the fatted calf. For a feast of welcome. To make such preparations was common in the simple life of the East. See Gen. 18:6–8.
For my son was dead, and is alive. See Eph. 2:1–6. It was a spiritual resurrection. They began to be merry. Gladness should be manifested by all saints at the repentance of sinners.
Now his elder son. The Pharisees had complained of Jesus that “he receiveth sinners” (verse 2). So the elder son complains that the father had welcomed the prodigal. Music and dancing. In the dance of Judea the sexes did not intermingle. It was usually performed by hired professional dancers.
He was angry. So the Pharisees were with Christ for receiving sinners. So, too, the eminently respectable self-righteous in the church often are still when the publicans and sinners, the despised and outcast, are converted. His father … entreated him. So God in Christ still entreats all such to join in the welcome of the impenitent. It shows his long suffering.
Neither transgressed I. Here is the very spirit of Pharisaism, a self-righteous spirit. His charges show while nominally with the father, he was far away from him in spirit.
Son. The father pleads with the envious brother and tries to bring him to a better frame of mind, as Christ pleads with Israel. All that I have is thine. “If a son, then an heir, and a joint heir with Christ.”
This thy brother. If a son, then the returned sinner is his brother. Unless he, too, can welcome him, then he is the lost son. “Those who object to all use of fiction must explain, as best they may, this story, for such it is. There is not even an application attached to it; the reader is left to make that for himself. As a representation of redeeming love it has been well called the Gospel in the Gospel. In comparison with others, it is the Crown and Pearl of all parables.”—Stier.
B. W. Johnson's The People's New Testament with Notes (1889–1891) — public domain. Electronic text from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library (CCEL) ThML edition.
The Preacher's Complete Homiletical Commentary 1892 · Public Domain Luk_15:11. A certain man.—Our heavenly Father, since Christ never…
CRITICAL NOTES
Luk_15:11. A certain man.—Our heavenly Father, since Christ never represents Himself thus. He always speaks of Himself as a Son, though often as a possessor, or lord. Two sons.—I.e., to represent the professedly religious and openly irreligious classes of men, whose presence led to the discourse. Both are Jews. The idea that the elder son represents the Jews and the younger the Gentiles seems foreign to the parable; for
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(1) the Jew can scarcely be said to be the elder son, as the call of Abraham took place a couple of thousand years after the Creation, and
(2) the reception of the Gentiles into the kingdom of God was not yet plainly revealed. But in character the sons may be said to be representative of mankind, for we have in them examples of two great phases of alienation from God—the elder is blinded by his self-righteousness, the younger degraded by his unrighteousness.
Luk_15:12. The younger.—As the more thoughtless and easily deceived. Give me the portion, etc.—Not an unheard-of request, though it does not seem to have been customary among the Jews to do as here described. Something like it, however, occurs in the life of Abraham (Gen_25:6). The law prescribed that two-thirds fell to the elder son (Deu_21:17). “In this case the father reserves to himself the power during his life over the portion of the first-born” (Luk_15:31) (Alford). The yielding to the request of the younger son strikingly sets forth the permission of free-will to man, and also the fact of God’s bestowing many gifts upon even the unthankful and disobedient. The request indicates a state of mind from which every kind of sin takes its rise—the desire to be independent of God and to enjoy a liberty which is just another name for licence. So was it with our first parents, who were attracted by the prospect of “being as gods, knowing good and evil.”
Luk_15:13. Not many days.—The purpose he had had in view was soon disclosed. Far country.—To be rid of all restraint. The distance to which he wanders suggests a likeness to the strayed sheep of the earlier parable (Luk_15:4); his manner of life in the far country recalls the condition of the silver piece lying in the dust (Luk_15:8). Wasted.—From this he gets his name of “the prodigal,” the waster (Latin, prodigus).
Luk_15:14. When he had spent all.—Probably very soon, as the course of sin is usually a brief one. Began.—This marks a crisis in his life. To be in want.—He had “spent his money for that which is not bread” (Isa_55:2). “This famine is the shepherd seeking his strayed sheep—the woman sweeping to find the lost. The famine, in the interpretation, is to be subjectively taken—he begins to feel the emptiness of soul which precedes either utter abandonment or true penitence” (Alford). In this figurative manner the weariness and disgust which naturally result from a sinful course are set forth.
Luk_15:15. Joined himself.—The word is a strong one—“he clave unto”—became a hanger-on—sponged upon another, and was forced to do dirty work. A citizen.—Rather, “one of the citizens” (R.V.) We may take this “citizen” as representing the tyrannous power of sin. The Prodigal had broken away from a loving father, and found himself in subjection to a hard task-master. To feed swine.—Doubly degrading—the task of a slave, and one intensely repulsive to a Jew. This represents the degradation at the end of a sinful course to which a man is subjected, as it were, against his will.
Luk_15:16. He would fain.—He craved and got his desire (cf. for similar use of the verb, chap. Luk_16:21). He was driven to assuage his hunger with what could scarcely be called food. Husks.—Not pods of some other fruit, but the fruit of the carob-tree, used for feeding domestic animals. No man gave.—I.e., anything else, anything better. It is absurd to imagine that it means “No man gave even husks to him.” He could provide himself with them, even if the swine were thereby stinted in their food. The desertion by those on whom he had wasted his substance, and whom he had probably reckoned as friends, is a very natural touch in the parable.
Luk_15:17. He came to himself.—Sin is in reality a being beside oneself: true life is that lived, not in gratification of self, but in subordination to God and in communion with God. Here we are evidently on a higher spiritual plane than in the two preceding parables; the whole process of loss and recovery is transacted within the soul of the Prodigal. It is of his own free-will that he wanders away; but then, his return is voluntary also. How many hired servants!—His own hard lot as a hired servant reminds him of the happier condition of those of the same class in his father’s house. And I.—Who am still a son, though an unworthy one.
Luk_15:18. I have sinned.—Perhaps rather, “I sinned”—referring not merely to the riotous life he had lately led, but to the initial act of leaving his father’s house (so in Luk_15:21). Against heaven and before thee.—In the spiritual interpretation these two are one and the same; it is the parabolical form that necessitates the double expression.
Luk_15:19. It is noticeable that he nowhere gives up his sonship. He uses the address “father,” and asks to be reinstated in his place as a son (though he confesses that he is unworthy of it). For even in the request which he thinks of proffering, but which he afterwards omits, he does not wish to become a hired servant, but to be made as one of the hired servants.
Luk_15:20. Arose and came.—Not always the usual course followed, but certainly the proper course—for the Prodigal is now an example of penitence. A great way off.—The idea is suggested by the father’s having been on the outlook for the son’s return, and of his having been animated by a love which made him quick-sighted to discern the distant figure of the penitent Prodigal. The running to welcome, and the touching signs of joy at the son’s return, correspond to the “seeking” in the other parables, for they strengthen the resolution of the penitent, which might not have been strong enough to enable him to carry through his purpose.
Luk_15:21. It is significant that he omits the request to be made “as a hired servant.” The love with which he was met awakens the filial spirit in all its intensity, and any such request would have been a kind of outrage.
Luk_15:22. Said to his servants.—His joy is too full to allow him to answer his son; he instantly issues orders to the servants to celebrate his return. Bring forth.—A better reading is, “Bring forth quickly” (R.V.). Best robe.—For him who came in rags. “Best.”—Lit., “first.” No reference to a dress he had formerly worn as a son—for it was as a son that he had left his father’s house. Ring, etc.—Signs of being a free man. Slaves wore no rings and went bare-footed.
Luk_15:23. The fatted calf.—Reserved for some special feast or anniversary. Let us eat and be merry.—Joy again alluded to as resulting from recovery of the lost, as in Luk_15:6; Luk_15:9. “Us”—including servants, as entering into the joy of their Lord (Mat_25:21-22).
Luk_15:24. Was dead.—Cf. Rev_3:1; Eph_5:14; Eph_2:1; Rom_6:13, for similar comparison of a state of impenitence to that of death.
Luk_15:25. Now, his elder son.—A reproof to the Pharisees and scribes. Some have wished the parable had closed with Luk_15:24. But the elder son is still a son and in need of repentance. In one respect he is, though less heinously guilty than his brother, in greater danger, because of the risk of self-deception. “As regards the penitent, this part of the parable sets forth the reception he meets with from his fellow-men, in contrast to that from his father” (Alford). In the field.—Probably working—part of the hard, but self-chosen service of which he complains in Luk_15:29. Music and dancing.—Surely this mention of appropriate signs of joy on such a solemn occasion should prove that these amusements are not necessarily worldly, or sinful, or unbecoming, for a Christian. Meant.—Lit., “might be.”
Luk_15:27. Safe and sound.—Lit., “in good health.” “A very prosaic rendering of the father’s enthusiastic and even poetical utterances” (Luk_15:24; Luk_15:32) (Speaker’s Commentary). No stress need, however, be laid upon this—the servant simply describes matters as they appear from his point of view.
Luk_15:28. Entreated him.—As Christ was now by this parable entreating the Pharisees and scribes.
Luk_15:29. Lo, these many years, etc.—He does not say “father,” and he speaks of his past service as having been like that of a slave. Neither transgressed.—The virtual boast of the Pharisaic party (cf. chap. Luk_18:11-12). Never gavest me a kid.—This answers to the younger son’s “give me” (Luk_15:12); a similar sin in both cases—a separation of their interests from the interests of their father. My friends.—Respectable people, very different from my brother’s disreputable associates. The “kid” is contrasted with “the fatted calf.”
Luk_15:30. Thy son.—He will not say “my brother.” Devoured thy living.—Implying blame to his father for giving him the means and opportunity for running riot. With harlots.—A detail implied, perhaps, in Luk_15:13, but out of place on his brother’s lips. Only the bitterest jealousy could have prompted the reproach. Killed for him.—“Making him not only my equal, but my superior,”
Luk_15:31. Son.—The father still affectionate even towards the self-righteous and uncharitable son. Ever with me.—No need for extraordinary joy in his case. All that I have.—Rather “all that is mine is thine” (R.V.). The younger son had wasted his share; all that the father had was the elder son’s. There is no impoverishment to the righteous in consequence of favour shown to sinners (cf. Mat_20:14).
Luk_15:32. It was meet.—The form is general—“it was a right” thing—justifying the joy and leaving it still open for the elder son to join in it. Thy brother.—In contrast with the words “thy son” (Luk_15:30).
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.—Luk_15:11-32
The Prodigal Son.—In the parable of the Prodigal Son we have the most luminous statement anywhere to be found of the original development of evil in the soul of man, and also of the awakening of those better elements in the nature which prove the kinship between man and his Creator. The Prodigal, whose story is given with such detail, serves two purposes: I. In the first part of his career he is a warning—he is a typical sinner. II. In the second he is an example—he is a model penitent. In the representation of the headstrong, disobedient son we may recognise some of the lineaments of our own characters, and learn to hate the sins that defile us; while in the account of his penitence and humility we may see in what attitude of heart, and with what words upon our lips, we should return to our heavenly Father.
I. The typical sinner.—The germ of evil—the bitter root from which so much that is hurtful springs—is plainly disclosed to us here. It is self-will. The ill-disposed son resented his father’s authority, and wished to be free to do what he chose without being checked or remonstrated with—to feel, in short, that he was his own master. Of course, in the actual human story a good deal might be said in favour of his desire to live his life on his own responsibility. The condition of childhood and tutelage, in the natural course of things, lasts only for a time, and it is a mistake to prolong it unduly. A time comes when each individual must feel the responsibilities that belong to maturity of age, and when the continued exercise of an external control does more harm than good. And it is a test of the wisdom of a parent to know when to relax the yoke which it was a good thing for his children to bear in their youth. The desire of the younger son to leave his father’s house and to begin life on his own responsibility might have been a perfectly natural and healthy feeling, and might have been gratified with the full consent of his father, and with the best feelings on both sides. It is only when we consider the spiritual meaning of the parable that the heinousness of this son’s feelings and actions comes clearly into view. God is the father, man is the son. The rule of the Father is a spiritual one: His voice is the voice of conscience. The desire to escape from His control is wholly unjustifiable—it is the desire to put pleasure in the place of duty, to shake off the obedience which we as creatures owe to the law of God, and to defy all prohibitions that debar our taking those things that seem good and pleasant to the eye. Subjection to the will of God is the condition of our being and happiness: ruin and desolation follow upon a repudiation of that condition. And if we interpret the parable according to this principle, we may say that the fall of the younger son dates from the moment when he claimed his rights—when he separated his interests from the interests of his father—and not simply when, in the far country, he wasted his substance in riotous living. Morally he was as guilty the day he left his father’s house as he was at any subsequent period: all the evil was in germ in his heart which afterwards appeared in full maturity in his life. And our understanding this fact makes clear to us the many peremptory statements of the Word of God that all men, the respectable as well as the disreputable, are guilty before God. The fact of disobedience and depravity may be more apparent in some cases than in others, but that all are guilty is undeniable. For if the essence of sin lies in self-will, who can claim to be innocent? There are, of course, gross vices and disorderly habits into which we may never have fallen, but the root of them all is in that self-will which has often led us wrong, and self-righteous congratulations upon our comparative cleanliness are utterly out of place in view of that besmirched goodness which is all that the best of us have to boast of. The Prodigal being depicted by Christ as a typical sinner, we are to expect to find in him sin at its very worst, and it is very instructive to notice wherein the baseness of his conduct consists. In reading the parable, this is perhaps the last thing in it that we notice—if, indeed, it does not escape our notice altogether. We use the word “prodigal” glibly enough, and perhaps think of it as meaning one who “breaks out” into a very disorderly life, and goes on recklessly in the bad way. It has quite a different meaning. The Prodigal is the waster; and though the word is not found in the parable, it is derived from the phrase in Luk_15:13, “he wasted his substance in riotous living.” His prodigality is his sin: he begins by asking for a share of his father’s goods; he gets it, carries it off, and wastes it. It is true that he wastes it in riotous living, but no stress is laid on that circumstance. The elder brother, with a rancour which we can easily understand and excuse, insists upon the shamelessness of the vice into which the Prodigal had fallen; but even with him the essence of the fault he was unwilling to allow to be forgiven did not lie in it, but is expressed in the words, “he hath devoured thy living.” Nay, it is not the sensual life which the penitent accuses himself of, or which the manner of his punishment accuses him of, but the wasteful life. It is not said that he had become corrupt in soul, or that his health was shattered by his riotous courses, but that his waste brought him to want—that at last he would fain have filled his belly with husks, and could not. It is not said that he was struck with remorse for the consequencess of his evil passions, but only that he remembered that there was bread enough, and to spare, for the servants at home. Is prodigality, then, such a hateful thing that it should be branded as the lowest form of sin? Are there not worse vices than it? Scarcely, if we look at it aright. It is selfishness, pure and simple—the sin of an ignoble or undeveloped creature. Nothing baser can be found than the resolution to indulge self, whatever it may cost—heedless of how others may suffer, heedless of the loss involved, heedless of the voice of conscience, and of the law of God, and of the terrible sentence of condemnation which such conduct is bound to draw down upon itself. It is not without reason that Christ lays stress upon the Prodigality of the Prodigal as the essence of his baseness; for, compared with this utter and brutish selfishness, other forms of sin have a certain air of dignity and superiority. Evil passions are often the errors and backfalls of noble souls: they are often the perversion of feelings which, if they had been rightly curbed and directed, would have brought no shame with them. But the resolute determination to indulge self in spite of all checks of conscience and religion is the final gulf in which the sinner lands; or, to change the figure, it is the root from which everything that is mean, and foul, and corrupt, springs, and by which it is fed. And therefore it is that all vital religion begins with the breaking down of the stubborn will, and its subjection to the wise and holy will of God. The Prodigal, then, is the typical sinner, on whose tragical history all should look with sympathy and terror—with sympathy because he is akin to us, and with terror because we perceive the likeness between ourselves and him.
The model penitent.—We may see in him the model penitent, and learn in what attitude of soul, and with what words upon our lips, we should return to our heavenly Father. In the manner in which the better mind was awakened in him, he is not necessarily an example to us. It was when the sting of hunger, of absolute beggary, penetrated his soul that he returned to himself and thought, with scorn, of the evil courses that had brought him to that pass. But that is only one of many ways in which the voice of God makes itself heard. There are many other kinds of experience that lead to the wholesome change and repentance manifested by this penitent. A severe illness, the sudden death of a friend, an unexpected calamity, a word of warning, the discovery that an evil habit has taken strong hold of us,—in some one of these ways the attention may be directed to our spiritual danger, to the vast distance by which sin has separated us from God, to the loss and risk to which we are exposed by remaining away from Him and in rebellion against Him. But however it may be that we “come to ourselves,” we can find no better pattern of penitence in word and action than the Prodigal affords us in the later part of his history. We can be quite sure of this, for Christ of set purpose draws the picture to show both how true repentance expresses itself, and how it is received by the Almighty Father. Note—
1. The penitent Prodigal complains of no one but himself, and speaks of no unworthiness but his own. He says nothing against his evil companions—nothing against those who lured him on to fresh courses of vice—nothing against the citizen who left him to feed on husks—nothing of the false friends of whom no man gave unto him; above all, he has nothing to say of the corruption of human nature, or the corruption of things in general. He says that he himself is unworthy, as distinguished from honourable persons, and that he himself has sinned, as distinguished from righteous persons. An outsider might notice that he was weak, and had been led into sin by companions more hardened and corrupt than himself. But that is nothing to him. All he knows is that he was led because he was willing and eager to go, and he does not cast a stone at his associates because he knows he was as morally guilty as any of them. This is a mark of true penitence. Whenever you hear any one excusing himself or herself on the ground of bad companions prevailing over a disposition that was naturally good, you may surely conclude that the penitence is insincere, even if your suspicions that such is the case have not been aroused by the whining tone of voice in which the words are always uttered. There are no excuses that avail to cover guilt. No stress of temptation, no inexperience, no inherent weakness of the nature, no solicitation of evil companions—are worth mentioning. The sinner has no right to mention them, though the judge may take them into account. The fact remains, when all is said, that the sinner is responsible for his guilt, and his only resource is to make the manly, the simply true confession, “I have sinned; I am unworthy.” And that is the hard lesson to learn, and the beginning of faithful lessons. All right and fruitful humility, and purging of heart, is in that. Then too,
(2) another mark of true penitence is discernible in the shame of the Prodigal. He abases himself before his earthly father, as well as before God. That is well worth noticing. “It is easy to call yourself the chief of sinners, expecting every sinner round you to decline, or return the compliment; but learn to measure the real degrees of your own relative baseness, and to be ashamed, not only in heaven’s sight, but in man’s sight, and redemption is indeed begun.” Observe the phrase, “I have sinned against heaven”—against the great law of that, and “before thee”—visibly degraded before my human sire and guide, unworthy any more of being esteemed of his blood, and desirous only of taking the place I deserve among his servants. This element of shame is essential to true penitence, and often seems to be wanting in those who retail their religious experience, and describe the depth of depravity in which they were once sunk. If their statements are true, shame should seal their lips. Another mark
(3) of true penitence is the desire to be henceforward subject to authority; not simply to have the past wiped out, and to be at liberty to enter on another course of self-pleasing and freedom. The Prodigal had left a father’s house; he desires to come back to a master’s—“make me as one of thy hired servants.” This is the spirit in which he returns, though the actual request is not proffered. Redemption must begin in subjection, and in the recovery of the sense of fatherhood and authority; just as all ruin and desolation began in the loss of that sense. “The lost son began by claiming his rights. He is found when he resigns them. He is lost by flying from his father, when his father’s authority was only paternal: he is found by returning to his father, and desiring that his authority may be absolute, as over a hired stranger.” By all these marks—by humbly confessing our guilt, by feeling shame on account of it, and by sincerely desiring to be ruled and controlled by the will of God—is that true penitence to be recognised which will avail to open to us our Father’s house and our Father’s heart.
Wandering.—After the younger son had secured his portion of the family inheritance, he went out of his father’s house and “took his journey into a far country.” At last he was free! The old restrictions that had fettered his childhood and youth were thrown off; the old duties that had waited upon him and dogged his comings and goings these many years were cast aside and forgotten; the monotonous orderliness and subordination of the peaceful home was a thing of the past. Henceforth he was his own master, and the world was at his feet. It is this delusive sense of freedom which lends a kind of enchantment to the early stages of wrong-doing; which persuades a man that he is evidencing his strength; that he has ceased to be a child under a wiser care and guidance, and become old enough to see the world and learn something of life. There are few things more tragic than to hear young men talking about “seeing life,” when it is really death they are seeing. And when a man begins to talk much or loudly about being free, it means, as a rule, that he is enslaving himself. At the start, however, there is a delusive sense of freedom. It is no longer necessary to keep hours, obey rules, perform tasks; the world is before one, with its mysteries, its joys, and its vastness; the home, with its subordination and restriction, is behind. The young man has his portion in his wallet; his staff is in his hand; he has strength, freshness, youth; why should he not throw himself into the tumult of life, and test his power? And so the wanderings begin, and the father’s house grows dim and shadowy in a past that seems pallid and vague beside the rich, full present. There is no rest, it is true; but there is the variety of constant change. There is nothing by the way that satisfies; but expectation points on to new sensations and experiences. From city to city, from country to country, the ardent traveller makes his way. He has no plans; that is part of his emancipation; he is doing as he pleases. If he wishes to stay, he stays; if he feels impelled to go, he goes. He sees men about him who are tied to times and places by duties, and whose necks are bowed by yokes of care; he has no duties and cares. He has broken out of that venerable old prison in which so many good but commonplace people have locked themselves all their lives; he breathes the open air, and lives on the broad earth. If he wishes to pluck a certain fruit, the fact that it is forbidden gives it a higher flavour; if he is drawn to do a certain deed, the fact that it is sinful makes it more attractive. He is no longer a child in leading-strings, to be frightened by the bugaboos of law, duty, morality, God; he is a grown man, and he has put away those childish things. He is free! And all the time the father’s house, builded in purity, self-sacrifice, love, and service, grows dimmer against the horizon, until it dips below that faint, far line. He has exchanged it for the world, and henceforth the world is his home.—“The Outlook.”
Luk_15:17-19. The Prodigal Son.—This young man was like a good many young men of our own time and all times. He thought himself too wise to be longer guided by his father; he thought himself too strong to be longer governed at home. So he went away from home. When he loses his money, he loses his friends; for friends that are bought with money disappear when the money disappears. He had never learned a trade; he had never acquired the art of honest industry; he had never acquired the simple ability to give the community enough to make it worth while for the community to give him enough to live on. I think he must have acquired one virtue—patience—or he could not have taken care of swine. Perhaps he acquired honesty also, and would not even take the husks without permission. When he came to himself, he said, “What a fool I have been! Here I am, cold, houseless, friendless, starving, and in my father’s house the servants have enough, and more than enough. I will go back, and apply for a position as servant in my father’s household.” What I want you to see is that this whole course of this young man separating himself from his father was a course of folly, and the return to his father was a return to wisdom. It was when he came to himself that he said, “I will arise and go to my father.” Sin is madness. To say of a man that he is shrewd, but wicked, is a lie. No shrewd man is wicked; no wicked man is shrewd. Sin is short-sighted. To begin with, the man who disregards God’s laws is a foolish man. In one realm we all recognise that. No man would call a man wise who disregarded the laws of nature. We all understand that natural laws do operate, and no man can say, “I will act as though natural laws do not operate.” But when we get the natural laws that come closest to us, then we are more doubtful. Sanitary laws—those we think we can disregard. We cannot violate the law of gravitation, but we can violate the laws of health, and that will not hurt much! O fools and blind! The laws of God are immutable, eternal, unchanging; no man can disregard them. Has not science taught us even so much as that? And yet the world is full of men who disregard the moral laws. If the policeman tells us to halt, most of us are wise enough to halt; we do not attempt to brush him aside. But when God says, “Halt!” when God comes to a man who is going in the course that he knows is leading down to hell, and thinks he can turn around and go up-hill again, and God says in his conscience, “Stop! you are going in the wrong direction!” he brushes God aside and goes on. “The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.” But there are greater fools than he. There is the fool who says, “There is a God; but I am going to live as though there was not any; and there are thousands of them—tens of thousands of them.” But God is more than a Law-giver; he is a Life-giver; and when a man tries to live without God, he is trying to live without the source and reservoir of life. No man knows what life is. Science traces back phenomena to their origin; but when it gets to this question—What is life? no man can answer. Once, when a boy, starting at a brook that flowed through my grandfather’s place, I followed it up for miles and miles, until at last I came to its source, the little springs in the hills, and the little baby rivulets that, flowing together, formed the beginning of that brook. But the water in the hill that gave forth the springs was hidden from sight. I had gone as far as I could when I got to the original springs; but what lay behind the springs, the reservoir in the hill—that I could not see. So we have followed life back to its source, traced the life of man through the various forms of science back to the original germ, the very beginning; but there we are stopped. Where does this spring, this baby rivulet, come from, which, growing larger and larger, makes this stream of wondrous life, with all the diversified phenomena, in one nation? It is God. God is life, and all phenomena are the manifestation and the revelation of the Divine life that lives and moves in every living thing. Man can make almost everything but life; that he cannot make. All vital phenomena are the forth-putting of life—that is, the forth-putting of God Himself; and when a man undertakes to live without God, do you know what he is doing? He is trying to live without life. There is just so much God in you as there is life in you. If you have some little intellect, that intellect is of God; if you have some little affection, that affection is of God; if you have some little honesty, that honesty is of God. And if you come up to this point, and stop and say, “I will have no more of God,” you are saying, “I will have no more of life.” That is what the wise Hebrew prophet meant, “Whoso findeth Me, findeth life; whoever sinneth against Me, wrongeth his own life. And they that hate Me love death.” Oh, to live in this world that is all full of God, with God knocking at every door, God knocking at the heart, the brain, the eye, the ear, God knocking at every avenue of sense, every avenue of a man’s being, and then to say, “I will live without Him”! But how many there are that are doing it! All the desires that are in men, all their eager quest for wealth, all their strenuous pushing for power, all their outreachings for knowledge, all their aspirations and dreams of love and hope, all their desires to be in any respect greater than they are to-day, are the hungerings of a child after its father. The Law-giver and Life-giver, He is also the Love-giver. We have not sounded the depths of the meaning of the simple text, “God is love.” It is the very nature of the Divine to pour Himself out. He is not like Brahm—absorbed, silent, abstracted; He is for ever pouring Himself forth for the sake of others. He did not wake up one morning six thousand years ago, and say, “Go to, I will make a world.” No, no; He has always been living; the whole universe is full of the Fatherhood of God; the universe is infinite as God is infinite, and love is infinite as God is infinite; and it is the nature of God to be for ever pouring Himself out that others may share His life, that others may be created to be life-bearers, living souls. God is love. Then you may turn it about—Love is God. And all the forms of love that life makes us familiar with are utterances of God. And God is perpetually trying to tell us who He is and what He is, not merely through the broken utterances of preachers, scribes, and prophets, but through the eloquent voices of life. The babe looks up into its mother’s eyes, and says to the mother, “God is love.” The little boy nestles up to the mother’s breast, and falls asleep in her arms, and, filled by the love surging through her, is saying to her, “God is love.” The young man goes away from home, and in his home-sickness writes back to mother with the thirstings and the hungerings of love; and the thirstings, and the hungerings, and the home-sickness, are saying to him, “God is love.” To live as though there were no Law-giver, to live as though there were no Life-giver, to live as though there were no Love-giver, is also to live as though there were no Hope-giver. Do you know how full this nineteenth century is of despair? And do you know that all pessimism is atheistic, and all atheism is pessimistic? Man may have a certain measure of virtue without God; he may stand in the trenches, and fight bravely, and be willing to die, borne through the peril and the storm by his mere fatalism or his mere human courage, as a trained horse may stand in the battle till he is shot down. But no intelligent man can keep alive his hopes unless he keeps alive his faith in God. To be without God is to be without hope in the world. And the philosophy of Schopenhauer and Hartmann, and the gloom in Amiel and Allard, all bear the same witness: to be without God, without the sense of God, the knowledge of God, the faith in God, the assurance of God, is to be without hope. And, on the other hand, to be with Him is to be sure of hope, sure of the future. I am not certain what I can do. Are you certain what you can do? I am not certain what all good men put together can do. Are you certain what they can do? But I do know what God can do. God has undertaken to make out of this human race a family of children like Himself, bearing His image, loving Him with His love, and returning His life back to Him, and receiving it from Him again. I know that He who has undertaken to do this will do it. The earth, which feels the brooding spring, does so because it is turning its face to the sun. It could not feel the brooding spring if there were no sun; and humanity, when it feels within itself the brooding of hope, the beginning of that nearer and larger and better life which it anticipates, turns its face toward God, and takes this life and light from Him. You are not living without God, and cannot. When you get rid entirely of God, you will get rid entirely of life. When a man comes to himself, he turn his face toward God. It is so simple: first, to see in God the Law-giver, and obey your conscience, whatever it tells you to do or be; for it is God’s voice. Next, to see that life is ever larger and wider, and still larger and wider, and that it is from the God that is about you and would be within you. Then, to hear in all love-songs and love-voices the voice of God speaking to you, and to find God in every voice of love in all the world. And so, with your face toward God and your heart full of hope, to rejoice, as the strong man to run a race, because God is in you. For all that is noble, all that is worth having, all that is worth being, is God in you; and all you need to do is to open your eyes to see Him, and your ears to hear Him, and your hearts to take Him in, that your life may be His life.—Abbott.
Luk_15:11-32. The Prodigal and His Brother.—Most readers must sometimes have wished that this parable had closed with Luk_15:24, and left us rejoicing in the joy of the father over his regained and penitent son. The second part of the parable seems to jar with the first. The “elder brother” is a mere discord in its music and robs it of its natural and happy close. The oldest interpretation (naturally suggested by Luk_15:1-2) sees in the younger son a type of the publicans and sinners, and in his elder brother a type of the scribes and Pharisees. But this interpretation is not wide enough. We feel that our Lord is dealing, not with men, but with man; not with classes or nationalities, but with the entire race: and hence we demand an interpretation of His words that shall cover all classes and include the whole family of man. If the earliest interpreter saw in the younger son a type of the publicans, why may we not see in the publicans a type of all sinful but penitent men of every race? If they saw in the elder brother a type of the Pharisees, why may we not see in the Pharisees a type of all who trust in themselves that they are righteous, and despise others? Nay, more; if we can each find in ourselves that which identifies us with the prodigal but penitent son, may we not also each of us find in ourselves some traces of his narrow and self-righteous and unloving brother? This gives us an interpretation in which we can rest. Our Lord spoke to the publicans and the Pharisees, and in speaking to them He showed every man the publican and the Pharisee in his own breast. The great aim of His ministry was to convince men that they were the sons of God, and to impart to them a filial spirit. If we were set to define a good son, on what more essential points could we fix than these?
1. That his father’s service was his delight.
2. That on the mere prompting of love he at all times kept his father’s commandments.
3. That under all changes and temptations to distrust, he confided in his father’s wisdom and care. In all these characteristics of sonship the Prodigal was for a time frankly and glaringly deficient. So far from affectionately depending on his father’s bounty and love, he claimed what he called “his own portion of goods,” that he might expend it as he would. So far from rendering his father a free and willing obedience, he felt that he should never be free until he had escaped from his father’s control. So far from taking a delight in service, and finding no place so dear as home, and no society so congenial as that of the inmates of his home, he was persuaded that he should never taste real pleasure till he could break away from the restraints of his father’s service and follow the impulses of his own will. Here, then, we have the open and jovial sinner depicted to the very life. But is the elder son in any way a better son? Does he show a more filial spirit? Not a whit. Loving dependence, free obedience, glad and disinterested service, are the distinctive marks of sonship. He has not one of these. On his own showing, he is a servant rather than a son; his father is much more a master to him than a father. He dislikes the restraints to which he has submitted at least as much as the Prodigal who would not submit to them. His obedience is not free, but servile. He has been serving for wages, for reward, and he complains that his wages have been calculated on far too low a scale—that he has earned far more than he has received. Obviously, then, the elder son was as far away from his father’s heart and spirit as the younger son had been from his father’s home, and had sunk into a bondage from which it was still harder to redeem him. We must remember that in this parable we have the story of two prodigals, rather than of one; of two men, that is, who wandered away from God—who lost their standing as sons by losing the spirit of sons; and that the self-righteous censor of his brother, the cold and insolent critic of his father, although he had never left his house, had strayed even farther from God than the reckless Prodigal who, under all his sins and sinful impulses, had a son’s heart in him, and was at last drawn back by it to his father’s arms. The parable teaches that those who esteem themselves saints, because they busy themselves with religious dogmas and rules, may be made of harder and more impenetrable stuff than the transgressors whom they eye with sour suspicion and disdain. But it teaches us a lesson still more surprising than this. It teaches us that, let men be as bad as they may, and whether they show a wild, wilful, and wanton spirit, or a cautious, selfish, and mercenary spirit, or whether they are the slaves of impulse or of conventionalism, God is always a good Father to them all. The truth is that we may each of us only too easily find both these men in himself, and therefore God’s grace to the one should be as welcome and pathetic as His grace to the other. As there is some hope that even the Pharisee may become a penitent, so there is much danger that even the penitent may become a Pharisee—that when he is “converted” he may become as narrow, and hard, and bigoted as ever his brother was, and sit in judgment and condemn those who were “in Christ” long before he was, and who have done far more to serve Him. We may well rejoice, therefore, that our Father in heaven is good to both—that when we return to Him, He has compassion on us; and that, even when we are angry with Him, and will not go in, He is not angry with us, but comes out and entreats us, re-kindling a filial and fraternal spirit in us by His fatherly generosity and love.—Cox.
Luk_15:18. Going to the Father.—It is only necessary to remind you very briefly of the story of the Prodigal Son, from which this sentence is taken: how this younger son had grown weary of the restraints and the companionships at home; how he had demanded that the father should divide the estate while the father was still living; how the father had consented; how, a little while after that, the boy, still dissatisfied, had taken all and gone off into a far country. How long it took this prodigal son to come to himself, how long it took him to decide that he was foolish, and to make the resolve to arise and go back to his father, we do not know. But we know how the modern prodigal does; how long he cogitates; how many hindrances stand in his way. He has lived his worldly life, and at length grows dissatisfied, and begins to think that he will seek for satisfaction somewhere else. And first there comes to him a citizen of the far country, who says, “You are mistaken; you do not need to go outside this far country. It is true you have been a failure; you have lived with harlots; but you do not need to do that. There are very reputable women living in this country, there are very excellent men in this country; be temperate, be honest, be industrious; the carob-pods are not bad eating if you know how to cook them. And if you are frugal and honest—but not too honest—you may come in time to own herds of swine—yes, and employ a swineherd—who knows? You do not need religion; all you need is to be a reformed and reputable citizen of this far country.” Still he is not satisfied; still he thinks he will go and find this Father of his. Then Philosophy comes to him, clad in academic robes and with its book in hand. “My friend,” it says, “you are mistaken; there is not any Father, and there is not any home; your notion that once you were with your Father and at home is a dream; I have been on the highest hill hereabout, and I have swept the whole horizon, from north to south, and from east to west, with my spy-glass, and I cannot see any Father’s home nor any Father. It is true this far country is a poor one; nevertheless, there is nothing better; certainly you and I do not know of anything better. Do not waste your time in going after a Father who, for aught you know, has no existence.” Still this young man is not satisfied. He looks about for some wiser and better counsellor. And then the dogmatist comes, holding a Creed in one hand and a Bible in the other; and the dogmatist says, “These men are all wrong; this far country cannot satisfy you; carob-pods are poor eating; you do need a Father, and there is a Father; but you are mistaken in thinking you can find Him now; He is afar off, and you are in a far country, and you must wait until you die before you can see your Father. But I have a splendid definition of Him; it describes all His attributes, and gives a full account of His government: take that. Or, if you are not satisfied with that, here is a book which tells about Him; for He was once in this far country, and lived here with certain of His children, and this book tells what His children knew about Him: either take what His children have said He says, or take our definition. That is the very best you can do.” Still he is not satisfied, and he turns to find another counsellor at his side, clad in a long white robe, and with the cross upon his breast. This counsellor says, “They are all mistaken; the citizen of this country is mistaken—the world will never satisfy you; the agnostic is mistaken—there is a Father; the dogmatist is mistaken—you do not have to wait until you die. But still the Father is not here. You are in a far country, and you cannot get away from the confines of it; but the Father has sent the Church here to take His place; the Church is the vicegerent of the Father, the representative of the Father; the Church will tell you more or less infallibly what you ought to know, and more or less infallibly what you ought to do; the Church will hear the confession of your sins and will pronounce absolution, and so take from you the burden of your sins. Give up the idea that you can see your Father here, and take a Church.” Those are the four counsellors that stand at the side of every man who is wondering whether he can arise and go to his Father. Over against them all—citizen of the world, agnostic philosopher, dogmatist, ecclesiastic—I want to put before you the simple truth that you can go to your Father here and now. In the first place, it is certain that the far country will not satisfy you. It has never satisfied. You are immortal, and this world is transient. Suppose you do succeed—suppose you get all you desire. You are fond of study, and you get books and opportunity to study; you are fond of influence, and you get that; you are fond of the power that money gives you, and you get money and the power that money gives. What then? In ten, twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty years, the ship that never failed to touch at every door will touch at yours, and you will go on board and will leave your books, and your bonds, and your stocks, and your influence, all behind. You cannot take them with you What then? You are spiritual, and this world is earthly and terrestrial; how can you expect it will feed you? If a man is hungry, and you show him a picture, will a picture satisfy his stomach? How can you expect things will satisfy the hunger for reverence, for hope, for love—in one word, for God? You are more than a machine, more than an animal. The man who says to you, “Be honest, be true, be pure, be good, leave the harlots alone, lead an honest and temperate life and you will succeed,” gives you wise counsel; but if he tells you that that is enough, he is telling you a lie. Then there is that other counsellor, the agnostic. He tells you that there is no Father and there is no home—at all events, no Father and no home than we can know about. I affirm, on the contrary, that we can and do know the invisible and spiritual, directly and immediately. You have eyes to see the outward thing and you have ears to hear the outward voice, you have senses that deal with this world in which you live; use them, use them carefully, follow them whithersoever they lead, but do not think that you have no other sense and no other knowledge than that. You have also a power of vision that deals with the infinite and the eternal; you have in you an eye that can see the invisible, and an ear that can hear the inaudible. God is not a dream; the home is not a vision; and God and the home are not mere pictures which poets have painted out of their imagination; they are the reality which men of Divine vision have seen and presented to men of duller sight. The dogmatist comes to you with his Bible and his Creed, and he tells you that you cannot hope to see and know God here and now: meanwhile, take what the Creed and the Bible tell you. What do the Creed and Bible tell you? This: that God is a living God; that God is in the hearts of His children, inspiring them, talking with them. If to-day any man in the Church should say, “God does not hear prayer,” orthodox theology would condemn him. But the Bible does not more distinctly reveal the truth that God hears prayer than it does the truth that God speaks to man. It is imagined that this Bible remains to show that God was once upon the earth, though He has gone now; He did inspire Isaiah, but He inspires no one to-day; He did speak to prophets, but He speaks to no one now. No: God was in His world: God is in His world. If any man holds up the Creed, therefore, to you and says, “Take a definition of God, instead of God,” he is offering you what is not bread. The Creed is a definition of God; if it will help you to find Him, take it. The Bible is a guide-book to God; if it will guide you to Him, take it. But take it that it may guide you to Him; never take it in the place of Him. Enoch walks the world to-day, and God is with Him. I call you to God—not to a Creed, not to a book. And, finally, the ecclesiastic stands by your side; offers a Church—a Church as God’s representative in the world. Of course, I do not object to the Church, or I should not be a member of it. What I do object to is the statement that the Church is the representative of God in the world, as though God were not here Himself. If the Church has not God in the heart of it, the Church is nothing; it is a mere ethical institution. The very message, the very ministry, the very function of the Church is to say to the world, not, “We are a representative of God, we personate God,” but “We are the witness to a God who is in the heart of His children here and now.” So I call you to arise and go to your Father. I call the little children to go to their Father. They cannot understand the Creed; they need not. They cannot comprehend the Bible; they need not. They cannot comprehend theology; they need not. But a little child, better than most older people, can understand that God is in conscience and in love—in father-love and mother-love. I call you, young men, to arise and go to your Father. We should be glad to have you flocking into our church, but I do not call you to the Church; I wish I could meet you in the Sunday-school, studying the Bible, but I am not calling you to the Bible. I call on you to arise and go to your Father, and I declare to you that there is in you a power of vision, and that you can see Him face to face. Fathers and mothers, I call on you to go to your Father. How can you take this little child who is put into your hands and train Him for this life and beyond, unless you have a better, a wiser Friend than the minister or the school teacher? Old men that draw near to the confines of eternity, come, come to your Father. If the book will help you, take the book; if the Creed will help you, take the Creed; if the Church will help you, take the Church; but do not stop content with any one of them. Do not wait for death—God is here; do not think to look back across the centuries for Him; He who was there is here. “The far country,” says Augustine, “is forgetfulness of God.” You have come out of the far country when you have turned your thought, your inspiration, your love, to your Father, and forget Him no more.—L. Abbott.
Luk_15:18-19. Not Worthy to be called God’s Son.—The estimate which we have of ourselves depends upon the standard with which we compare ourselves. This man had formed a different measure of himself in his previous experience, because his standard had been different. He had thought himself a good fellow, and all his companions assured him that he was a good fellow. Liberal, generous-handed, flinging money right and left—measured by the harlots and drunkards, he was a good fellow. The judgment was not strong, so measured. When he ceased spending his money riotously, and had come to settle down to something like industry, and measured himself with the swineherds that were about him, he thought himself perhaps better than the average. Very likely he was. He was of a good family, and they very possibly looked up to him. Measuring himself by the swineherds with whom he was living, he was superior. But when he turned his thoughts backward, and compared himself with the father whose home he had abandoned, then he said, “I am no more worthy to be called thy son.” It was a new standard that he had adopted, and therefore a new judgment that he reached. This is the question I want to put before you: Are you worthy to be called God’s son? Lawyer—you are worthy to be called good lawyer; merchant—worthy to be called good merchant; friend—worthy to be called good friend;—all of it true. But now take this other standard: God’s son—are you worthy to be called God’s son? What does this phrase, “God’s son,” mean? How shall we apply the measurement? We will look across the centuries, and gaze for a few moments at the portrait of One who was called God’s Son; we will try to think how He lived, under what impulses, under what guidance, with what deeds; and then we will lay our lives alongside His life and ask ourselves, Are we worthy to be called God’s son? Eighteen centuries ago, then, this Man was born in the province of Rome. Man, you say? do you call Him Man? Yes, I call Him Man. Like ordinary men? Ah, that is just the question I want you to answer. I want you to put yourself beside Him, and see whether ordinary men are like this Man. But He was Man and Son of God, and we are men and sons of God. Are we worthy to be called sons of God? This is the very question. This Man comes out into life at thirty years of age with His purpose fully set. How He had formed it we do not know. He appears as unexpectedly and as surprisingly as Elijah in the Old-Testament and John the Baptist in the New-Testament time; but when He appears His purpose is fully set, His life is consecrated to one great, resplendent idea—to bring about the kingdom of God in the world—and from that purpose He never turned aside. With this consecrated, settled, resolute purpose went a great, inspiring, ardent, consuming love. I hardly know how we can apply the word “self-sacrifice” to Christ. There was no self to be sacrificed. He lived as a man that did not think of Himself. So ardent was He in His work that He went without His meals, and forgot to be hungry. How easily He puts aside the ordinary things for which we live, we all know, but other and subtler appeals also spoke to unheeding ears. The poet and the prophet long at times for solitude. Who has not sung to himself the psalmist’s song, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest!” And we may be sure that all the triumph of apparent popularity, and the jostling crowds, were more odious to Him than to any poet or prophet that ever walked the earth. The subtle temptations to the life of a recluse, the life of simple prayer and meditation, He put behind Him, as the grosser temptations that appeal to grosser men. The lark flies from the earth, and carries its song heavenward; but this Singer flew down to earth and went into the cage that He might sing to men who were encaged. Where pain, and gloom, and suffering, and sin were, there this Singer carried His song and His prayer. Sometimes, on the other hand, the poet and the prophet long for companionship. He grows utterly lonely; he wants some one to walk beside, some one at least that will understand him and commune with him. And so did this Man. And He gathered twelve about Him; the best He could find, nearest to Him in spirit and in purpose—and yet how far away! They could not understand Him. They could not understand Him, because they were not free from selfishness. When they sat about the Last Supper, they quarrelled for precedence. These were the men he had to depend on; these the very best; and yet how He lived for them, and loved them—through their misunderstandings, their narrownesses, their quarrels, their desertions, their denials! And yet this love of His was not a Puritan’s love. It was love, not conscience. He did not do the things of which He might have said, “I ought to do”; He did all the things that all the impulses of His nature moved Him to do; for all those impulses were to love and service. And so His heart was full of sympathy for men. Though they could not touch Him, yet He could touch them. He is walking the highway; the crowds are about Him; in the distance is heard the cry, “Room for the leper! room for the leper!” It was not enough to say, “Be well?”—He touched Him.
This love was shown in nothing so much, I think, as in His wrath. He could be angry—and He was at times. And when He was angry, how the men were afraid of Him! When He stood in the Temple courts, surrounded by the Pharisees, and launched out indignant denunciation against those that made long prayers for a pretence and devoured widows’ houses, He faced a crowd of angry men, but they dared not touch Him; there was a flashing in His eye, and a thunder in His voice, that held them back. With all this love, with all this sympathy, with all this loneliness at times, there was a wonderful purity. Perhaps you will think me irreverent, or, at least, unorthodox, if I say it—sometimes it seems to me that Paul understood human nature better than Jesus Christ did. Paul understood how the spirit and the flesh battle against each other. Paul understood how the animal is pulling the spirit down, and the spirit, shackled and bound, cannot emancipate itself. It was Paul who wrote, “For what I would, that I do not; but what I hate, that I do”; and Paul who wrote, “Wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from this body of death?” But Christ says, “The prince of the world cometh, and hath nothing in Me.” With all this love, with all this purity, with all this service went a wonderful hopefulness. Jesus of Nazareth was the Optimist of the centuries. Coming forth at the time when the world was at it lowest moral ebb, when there had been no prophet in Palestine for centuries, when there was nothing but corruption, when there was no virtue and no true civilisation even in Rome, when literature there was well-nigh dead and moral life had died, this Man rang out His clarion note from pulpit to pulpit, and from valley to valley, and from hillside to hillside, “The kingdom of God is at hand!” And, inspiring all, the source of all this, He walked with God. “The words that I speak to you, I speak not of Myself; the Father doeth the works.” And He so walked with God that in His hours of loneliness He found in God His companionship, in God His Rest and His Refuge. Take this life and put it alongside your life, and then answer the question, “Am I worthy to be called my Father’s son?” In the coming days let this Presence go with you. If sometimes your will grows weak, let His strong Manhood nerve you to a better consecration; if sometimes the world, with its subtle temptations, comes in upon you, let His unselfish service drive out the motives that belong only to the far country; if sometimes you are discouraged and in despair, let His smile rest upon you and His strong words say to you, “Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world”; if sometimes you look on another’s wrong with unblushing cheek, catch the tones of His voice, and let there be thunder in your heart against others’ iniquity; if sometimes the wrong upon yourself brings the blush of anger to your cheek, look on Him who looked on Peter with forgiving eyes, and be ashamed that your selfishness is angry, and not your love. Am I worthy to be called God’s son? What are you doing? You are trying to make bread out of stone—good bread, doubtless, for yourself, for your children perhaps, and for others; but this is not Christ’s work. And you—you are tempted to fly from the top of some great pinnacle and let all the world look on and clap and say, “Wonderful man he is!” This is not God’s work. And you—you are trying to do God’s work in the world, but the devil has stayed at your side and said, “Promise to follow me, and I will show you a better way to purify politics, cleanse the Church, set society right.” This also is not the work of God’s son. To be God’s son, it is at least this: To have a life wholly consecrated to God’s service; to have a heart wholly full of His unselfishness and self-forgetting love. Are you worthy to be called God’s son?—Ibid.
SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON Luk_15:11-32
Luk_15:11-32. The Two Brothers.—The point of this parable, as of the two preceding, is God’s joyful welcome to a returning sinner, in contrast with the angry jealousy of the Pharisees. That is the lesson of the story, and hence it is essentially a repetition of the parables of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin.
I. But the conduct of the Pharisees, implied before, is now plainly held up to view.—For the elder son represents the Pharisee, and no one else. All other applications are beside the mark. The two verses which open the chapter vindicate this as the only correct interpretation. And so the elder son’s conduct is no episode, but an essential part of the parable, the statement, in fact, of what is half the lesson of all three parables. If it is objected that Christ could not speak of the unloving and unlovely Pharisees in the words “Son, thou art ever with me,” the answer is ready. Here, as often, Christ simply takes him at his own estimate for the moment, shows him thereby how unlovely he really is, and so makes manifest in the only possible way his need of repentance and restoration.
II. The younger son is the “publican and sinner,” the openly irreligious everywhere. His sin is not denied or palliated. It is drawn in imperishable colours. But Christ had a gospel for such. The Pharisees had none. They did not think God could forgive such. Not so, says Jesus, God goes after the lost, seeks diligently, welcomes back with great and generous joy.—Hastings.
Two Types of Sinners, and God’s Love for Them.
I. The outcast but penitent sinner.—
1. His home privileges.
2. His selfish and wicked life.
3. His misery and unrest.
4. His penitence.
II. How the father dealt with him.—
1. Readiness to receive.
2. Free and complete forgiveness.
3. Restoration to sonship and privileges.
III. The self-righteous and proud sinner.—1 Equally unworthy with his brother, for he was boastful, unbrotherly, unfilial—a picture of the Pharisees, and of the self-righteous generally.
IV. How the father dealt with him.—
1. Loving and gentle entreaty. No rebuke.
2. Still recognises him as a Song of Solomon 3. Still offers him all the undeserved privileges of sonship.
V. Which of the two do we most resemble?—Taylor.
The Revelation of the Father.—The locus classicus for Christ’s teaching as to the revelation of the Father, the belief of which tends to make men become citizens of the kingdom, is the fifteenth chapter of Luke, and especially the parable of the Prodigal Son. There God appears as One who takes pleasure in the repentance of sinners, such as the reprobates of Jewish society, because in these penitents He sees prodigal children returning to their Father’s house. By these parabolic utterances Jesus said to all, however far from righteousness, God loves you as His children, no more worthy to be called sons, yet regarded as such; He deplores your departure from Him, and desires your return; and He will receive you graciously, when, taught wisdom by misery, you direct your footsteps homewards. It is not allegorising exegesis to take this meaning out of the parable. Jesus was on His defence for loving classes of men despised or despaired of, and His defence in part consisted in this, that His bearing toward the outcasts was that of the Divine Being. He loved them as a Brother; God loved them as a Father.—Bruce.
The Lost One’s Return.—Some have called this parable a gospel within a gospel. It is full of tender and loving teaching.
I. The son at home.
II. The son far from home.
III. The son at home again.—Watson.
The Lost Son.—
I. The son glad to leave home.—
1. The choice.
2. The parting.
3. The absence.
II. The son glad to return home.—
1. Thoughts of home.
2. The home ward journey.
3. The happy meeting.
III. The lessons of the story.—How like the ingratitude of many is the younger son’s conduct! How bitter the fruits of selfishness! How tender the Divine forgiveness!—Taylor.
A Parable of Two Sons.—
I. There are two ways in which people fall from their right attitude to God.—
1. Some men ignore God, or choose to forget Him.
2. Others dread God too much to revolt from Him, and do what they can to earn the Divine favour. The two varieties run down to the same identical root. In the one case you are an alien, in the other a slave; in neither a child. Both are proud and selfish. Neither is loving.
II. The methods by which our Father is for ever seeking to bring us into a childlike relation to Himself.—
1. Of God’s way with the prodigal.
2. With the legalist.—Dykes.
The Condition of Humanity.—Man, viewed as the object of the Saviour’s solicitude, is lost
(1) as a straying sheep is lost, through thoughtlessness;
(2) as a piece of money is lost to use, when its owner cannot find it;
(3) as a prodigal is lost, who in waywardness and self-will departs from his father’s house to a distant land, and there lives a life utterly diverse from that of the home he has left, and so living has no correspondence with his family, but is content to be as dead to them, and that they, in return, should be as dead to him. Such were the thoughts of Jesus concerning man when He described him as “lost.”—Bruce.
I. The Prodigal Son: his
(1) self-will;
(2) folly;
(3) misery;
(4) repentance.
II. The loving father:
1. His long waiting for his Song of Solomon 2. The fervency and rapture of his joy on receiving him.
III. The relentless elder brother:
1. His moral correctness.
2. His severity and pride.
The Parable tells us—
I. Of man’s original estate, as a child in his father’s house, happy, and wanting nothing.
II. Of the misery that waits on sin, especially heavy in the cases of those who go to great excess in evil.
III. Of the true way in which to return to God.
IV. Of the Divine compassion that hastens to welcome the penitent.
V. Of the envy which some, even of God’s children, manifest at such great kindness being spent on such as have been grossly sinful.
VI. Of God’s forbearance towards our infirmities and unbecoming feelings.
I. The Prodigal’s departure.
II. His return.
III. The reception he meets with.
IV. The character and conduct of the elder brother.
Luk_15:11-24. The Prodigal.
I. His departure.—Multitudes tread this path. The way to death is thronged. The “seven devils” that hold the reins, and direct the course, urge myriads of “younger sons” to their ruin. Yet there is hope. There are two pieces of good news for every prodigal:
1. God is angry with you, not pleased. His anger is against your departing. Were He pleased when you go away, you could not expect Him to be pleased when you come back.
2. Christ Himself, by His word in this parable, makes a path for the prodigal’s return. Why did He paint this picture? To leave open a way from the “far country “to the Father’s home and bosom.
II. His return.—“He came to himself.” This suggestive word marks the turning-point. His conduct had been madness as well as sin. He makes self-discovery, and resolves to return. Worthless though he is, the father gladly receives the penitent prodigal. It is the history of one actual case. A story made by Christ, and so made as to serve a purpose. The purpose is to show how He receives even the chief of sinners. No conceivable degree of provocation closes His heart against him that cometh.—Arnot.
The Lost Son.—There is, perhaps, no page in the Bible which comes home so perfectly to the understanding of every human being as this. But, human as the story is, the parable is truly Divine. There are two distinct pictures, or compartments rather, in the one composition.
I. The prodigal’s progress.—Apostasy, profligacy, penalty. The picture is not overdrawn.
II. The penitent’s return and reception.—Reflection, resolution, return and reception, confession, restoration, rejoicing. Man’s redemption is a momentous event in the annals of God. He alone perfectly understands it, and most of all rejoices over it, for to Him our nature belongs, and He alone knows what it is worth. Other beings, however, including men themselves, are called to rejoice along with God in this. The mark of their nearness to God in spirit will be the degree in which they are taken up about human salvation—are concerned for it, and delight in its accomplishment.—Laidlaw.
Five Phases of Religious Experience.—Five scenes which correspond to the phases of religious experience through which the Prodigal Son passes:
1. Departure from home (Luk_15:1-13)—his sin.
2. His miserable plight (Luk_15:14-16)—his punishment.
3. His regrets (Luk_15:17-19)—his repentance.
4. His return (Luk_15:20-21)—his conversion.
5. His restoration to his place as a son and to his father’s favour (Luk_15:22-24)—his justification.
Luk_15:11. Grace and Faith.—In spite of the admirable manner in which Jesus had employed the two former figures, since they are borrowed from the world of nature, they do not fully serve His purpose. They do, indeed, to some extent, describe the feelings towards the sinner which fill the heart of God, but they do not set forth the part which the sinner himself plays in the drama of conversion. He needs to find a figure, borrowed from the moral sphere, and consequently from human life. Grace is represented in the first and second parables, grace and faith in the third (cf. Eph_2:8).—Godet.
A Definite Revelation of God’s Thoughts towards Us.—Jesus here drops the interrogative form which introduces the two preceding parables. He no longer appeals to his hearers to say what a shepherd, and what a woman, in the circumstances supposed, would probably do. He now reveals in definite terms the thoughts of God towards our sinful race.
Luk_15:11-12. Dissatisfaction.
I. Dissatisfaction implied in the demand of the son:
1. The cause of dissatisfaction, impatience of restraint.
2. The expression of dissatisfaction.
3. The guilt of dissatisfaction.
II. The effect shown, in the act of the father.
1. This act gives no sanction to the son’s demand as right.
2. This act allows freedom to a sinner to follow his own choice.
3. This act confers powers which might be used for spiritual profit.—Ritchie.
Luk_15:11-13. The Soul and its Sin.
I. Whence the soul’s sin springs—out of a desire for bad freedom.
II. Where sin places the soul.
III. That to which sin dooms—waste, shipwreck.
Luk_15:12. The Arrogant Claim.
I. The younger son comes to his father to demand his portion.
II. He lays claim to his portion as a debt, which he thinks his father owes him.
“The younger.”—It is scarcely by accident that the younger son is chosen to play the part of the prodigal. For it is for the young—to those who are innocent and unsuspicious, to those whose hearts are light, and who have had but little experience of the world’s ways—that the world’s temptations have the greatest charm, who are most likely to long for freedom, and least capable of avoiding the dangers it brings.
“Give me.”—Over against the Prodigal’s demand, “Give me my portion of goods,” is the children’s cry, “Give us day by day our daily bread”; they therein declaring that they wait upon God, and would fain be nourished from day to day by His hand.—Trench.
Weary of Home, Anxious to See the World.—Two things urge the younger son to make this request:
1. He is wearied of his father’s house.
2. The world abroad attracts him. So is it with the sinner. He desires to escape from the restraints of holiness and to be at liberty to please himself.
Experience Alone Can Cure.—The father sees that the moment has come in which the son can only be cured by experience, and he gives him up to his own will. This is the point to which the heathen had arrived at the epoch of judgment described by St. Paul (Rom_1:24-28)—that of “being given up to their own lusts.” A time comes when God ceases to strive against the inclinations of a perverse heart and lets it have its own way.—Godet.
Luk_15:13.
I. Preparation for leaving his early home.—
1. The time of preparation.
2. The act of preparation.
II. Departure into a far country.—
1. The leaving his father’s house.
2. The journey into a far country.
III. Wasting his substance with riotous living.—
1. The substance wasted.
2. The substance wasted with riotous living.—Ritchie.
The Wanderer.
I. To sin is to depart from God.—The explanation of this action is:
1. Alienation of heart.
2. The allurements of evil.
3. The weakness of the nature.
4. The illusions of Satan.
II. All sinners that are carried away with the love of sin do actually leave God and depart.—
1. They do not know what is to be found in God.
2. They are at enmity with Him.
3. They are averse to His laws and government.
III. They go into a far country.—
1. This Prodigal set off immediately, as soon as he received his portion.
2. His father’s bountifulness did not render him dutiful.
3. The distance to which he wandered was not so much of place as of state.
4. All who are now the children of grace, and on the way to heaven, were once wanderers like him.—Jones.
“Not many days.”—For a little, therefore, he lingers in his father’s house after he has formed the resolution to depart and has liberty to do so. And so in the case of the sinner, apostasy of heart often precedes apostasy of life. It is by degrees, perhaps almost imperceptible at first, that he enters on the downward course. It begins in feeling before it manifests itself in action.
“A far country.”—An image of the sinner’s deep apostasy from God.
“Wasted.”—Lit. “scattered.” As lightly, swiftly, as “all had been gathered together” is all dissipated again.
The Riotous Spendthrift.
I. All sinners, when they have departed from God, are spendthrifts and great wasters.
1. All receive their portion of goods.
2. Unregenerate sinners consume these on their own lusts, the faculties of body and soul, and their earthly treasures.
II. They waste what they have received in riotous living.
1. They have cast off the government of God
2. They trample on His holy laws.
3. They put themselves under the government of the great adversary of God and man.—Jones.
Luk_15:14-16.
I. His want, through famine in the land.—
1. The mighty famine in the land.
2. His want in the famine.
II. His work with a citizen of that country.—
1. His joining himself to a citizen.
2. His work with the citizen.
III. His wish for the husks, to relieve his hunger.
1. The desire for husks.
2. The desire unfulfilled.—Ritchie.
Luk_15:14-15. Sources of Misery.—
1. Abundance exchanged for destitution.
2. Freedom for servitude. Two sources of misery: inward griefs, outward sorrows.
I. The heart itself consumed by loathing, remorse, loneliness, and despair.
II. Outward calamities, such as the famine here specified, against which the heart, deprived of the consolations of religion, strives in vain.
Luk_15:14. “A mighty famine.”—External circumstances hasten the consequences of sin, and are used by God to lead to repentance. Thus the father seeks his son by so ordering events that he shall feel his real condition. In like manner, in the history of the prophet Jonah, the great storm and danger upon the sea are used to lead him to repent of his disobedience.
The Grievous Famine.
I. All things under the sun quickly decay and disappear.
II. Alienation from God leads to poverty, misery, and suffering, and these are intended to drive sinners from the far country back to their Father.
III. This Prodigal’s destitution.
1. He was stripped of the means of self-gratification.
2. He is convinced of the emptiness and vanity of all things under the sun.
3. He wants something which he has not, but does not know what he wants.—Jones.
A Wasted Life.
The affecting lines of Byron well illustrate this experience of the prodigal:—
“My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers, the fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief,
Are mine alone.
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze—
A funeral pile!”
Luk_15:15-16. The Willing Slave.
I. It is with the strongest reluctance that sinners leave this far country.
1. They believe nothing of what they hear of the country where they live.
2. They believe nothing of what they hear of the Redeemer’s kingdom.
3. The far country is suitable to their sinful inclinations.
4. They have a deep-rooted enmity against God and holiness.
II. Deep conviction of sin leads to fear, but many are still very unwilling to return to their Father’s house.
1. They enter the service of a hard master.
2. They are set to poor and mean employments.
3. Their only liberty is to choose in what fields they will work.
4. They try various means to satisfy their cravings, yet all in vain.—Jones.
Luk_15:15. “Citizen.”—Notwithstanding all the Prodigal’s folly and sin, he did not become a citizen of that far country. He felt himself, while there, an exile from home; and when his misery becomes intolerable he does not sink into apathy and despair, but his thoughts return to his father and his father’s house.
“Sent him into his fields.”—The world and every one of its citizens is a hard master, in whose services the most pitiable wages are given; yea, not even food to eat. Well for every prodigal who is constrained to realise this and does realise it.—Stier.
Luk_15:16. Degradation.—He who would not, as a son, be treated liberally by his father is compelled to be the servant and bondslave of a foreign master; he who would not be ruled by God is compelled to serve the devil; he who would not abide in his father’s royal palace is sent to the field among hinds; he who would not dwell among brethren and princes is obliged to be the servant and companion of brutes; he who would not feed on the bread of angels petitions in his hunger for the husks of the swine.—Corn, a Lapide.
“Would fain.”—Between carnal and spiritual pleasures there is usually this difference: the first, when we are without them, excite in us strong desires; but after their possession they cloy and dissatisfy. It is quite the contrary with spiritual pleasures. We have a distaste for them as long as we are without them; but possession produces the desire of them, and the more largely we partake of them the greater is our appetite and hunger.—S. Gregory.
The Swine Cared For the Swineherd Neglected.—The swine were valuable; they would fetch a good price in the time of famine. They were cared for, but the wretched swineherd was left to look after himself. This was his return for squandering his living upon pretended friends!
Luk_15:17-20. The Soul and its Repentance.
I. Repentance is kind and right-minded thought about one’s self.
II. Repentance is dissatisfaction and regret.
III. Repentance is confession of sin.
IV. Repentance is also humility.
V. Repentance is also resolution toward the Father.
VI. Repentance is the actual movement of the soul toward the Father.
1. Recognition of sin.
2. Sorrow for sin.
3. Forsaking of sin.
Luk_15:17.
I. His restoration to himself.—
1. He came to an understanding of what is true.
2. He came to a conscience of what is right.
3. He came to an affection for what is good.
4. He came to a will for what is holy.
II. His review of his condition.—
1. He expresses a bitter sense of present misery.
2. He expresses a deep conviction of his past folly.
3. He expresses a grateful remembrance of his father’s bounty.
4. He confesses a fervent desire for the joys of his early home.
The Solemn Pause.
I. Till now he was in a state of moral madness.
II. But the Prodigal is now come to himself—i.e., to his right senses.
1. He never before gave himself the trouble of thinking.
2. Now he begins to think seriously.
III. Two subjects fill his whole soul.
1. The happiness of those who enjoy such abundance in his father’s house.
2. His own starving condition in a distant land.—Jones.
“Came to himself.”—Words of deepest significance, saying, as they do, that to come to one’s self and to come to God are one and the same thing; that when we truly find ourselves we find Him, or, rather, having found Him, find also ourselves; for it is not man in union with God, who is raised above the true condition of humanity, but man separated from God, who has fallen out of and below that condition.—Trench.
One Not in His Right Mind.—For one who could so act—forsake such a father and desert such a home, to incur nothing but misery, insult, and the pangs of hunger—can only be spoken of as one not in his right mind.—Burgon.
A Change of Feeling.—He began by despising his father’s house and by longing to escape from it. Now he looks with disgust upon the country for which he had exchanged it, and desires to return home. He chooses what he had left; he leaves what he had chosen.
“How many!”—Behold the sad catastrophe of rash and thoughtless voluptuousness. It turns the man out into a strange country who might have lived happy in his father’s house; it makes a beggar of one that was rich; it changes the condition of a son into that of a slave; it compels him to feed filthy swine who disdained the dutiful service of a gracious father.—P. Chrysologus.
Luk_15:18-19.
I. An earnest resolution to arise.—
1. He resolves to exert a will for deliverance.
2. He resolves to put forth activity in the right direction.
3. He resolves to set out in a new course.
4. He resolves to go to an expected end.
II. A true repentance of sin.—
1. The confession of sin.
2. The aggravations of sin confessed.
3. The unworthiness to be called the son of such a father.
4. The request to be made as a hired servant.
The Preparatory Address.
I. The sinner must come and confess his sins unto God, or never find mercy.
II. How this confession must be made.
1. It must be a true confession.
2. It must be such as the occasion requires.
3. In it there must be both faith and repentance.
III. What encouragement has the sinner to confess his sins unto God?
1. God is a Father.
2. His delight is salvation.
3. He has made ample provision for the redemption of the sinful.
4. He invites all to take advantage of it.—Jones.
Luk_15:18. “I will arise.”—He will “arise,” for he has till now been grovelling in the dust. He will “go,” for he is a very long way off. To his “father,” for at present he dwells among swine.
The Pious Resolution.
I. “I will arise.”
1. This is a most dangerous country to abide in.
2. It contains nothing to supply my numerous wants.
II. “I will go to my father.”
1. All things naturally draw towards home.
2. The Holy Spirit begins His work by creating hunger and thirst after righteousness and resolution to return to God.
3. Where there is life there is progress.
4. The sinner has nowhere to go at last for help and comfort but to his God.—Jones.
“Against heaven.”—He alone really confesses his sins who has regarded them mainly as sins against God—against a higher, heavenly order of things; and this is the best sign that a sinner has come to himself. Cf. Psa_51:4 : “Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight.”
“Before thee.”—“In respect of thee”—i.e., by wasting his substance and by occasioning him great unhappiness and some disgrace.
Luk_15:19. “Make me as one of thy hired servants.”—An ancient writer says, in commenting on this verse, “O, Lord Jesu! Preserve us from such husks as the swine did eat, and instead thereof, give unto us the true Bread; for Thou art steward in Thy Father’s house. As labourers, vouchsafe to hire us also, although arriving late; for Thou dost hire men, even at the eleventh hour,—and givest to all alike the same reward of life eternal.”
“Make me as one.”—He wishes that there may be no distinction between him and the least of the day-labourers, and promises thereby that he will diligently serve and be obedient as a day-labourer. He wishes to be released, at any price, from his wretched condition, and with deeds to prove the sincerity of his confession of sin.—Van Oosterzee.
Luk_15:20-24. The Soul and its Reception.
I. The reception of a longing and watching love.
II. A quick reception.
III. A reception of utmost welcome.
IV. A reception of larger answer to prayer than one dare hope for.
V. A reception of perfect reinstatement.
Luk_15:20. The Turning-Point.
I. “And he arose.”
1. He rises up and comes forth from the regions of the dead.
2. He cannot stay in the far country.
II. “And he came to his father.”
1. The sinner left God: now he returns to God.
2. He had nowhere else to go.
3. He came quite home.
4. He came without delay.
III. There are great difficulties in the sinner’s way to return to his Father.
1. His sins.
2. His vileness.
3. His hardness of heart. Yet there is a new and living way by which he may go.—Jones.
I. The return of the son.—
1. The setting out on the homeward way.
2. The progress in the new course.
3. The return to his father.
II. The welcome of the father.—
1. The father’s observation of his son afar off.
2. The father’s compassion on his son coming to his home.
3. The father’s welcome to his son returning to him.—Ritchie.
“Ran.”—The coming of the father to meet his son here figuratively exhibits the sending of the Son of God.—Von Gerlach.
“Ran.”—The return of the sinner is expressed by the word going (Luk_15:18), but God’s coming to the sinner by running. God makes greater haste to the sinner than the sinner does to God; God makes much of our first inclination, and would not have it fall to the ground.
“Kissed him.”—No cold, formal greeting—deosculatus est. He kissed him repeatedly and fervently—devoured him with kisses.
“One parable cannot exhaust the whole truth; but in this parable we may say that the Saviour and Mediator is concealed in the kiss which the father gives the son” (Riggenbach).
The Prodigal was utterly destitute of merit, even in his repentance. For it was not until he had exhausted every resource, and death stared him in the face that he resolved to return home. Yet he was received with ardent welcome, and without upbraiding. Thus is it with the sinner. Although we return to God only, as it were, when we cannot help coming, He receives us with open arms; He takes the sin away and does not cast it up to us.
Associates Left Behind.—The Prodigal leaves behind him the companions and instruments of his lusts. This is a distinctive feature of true repentance. In the act of fleeing to his father he leaves his associates, and his habits, and his tastes, behind; and conversely, as long as he clings to these he will not—he cannot—return to his father.—Arnot.
The Compassionate Father.
I. His father saw him:
1. God takes notice of the very beginning of the new creation in the soul.
2. He sets the greatest value on the least grace, for He sees how great it will be at the last.
II. The father had compassion on him and ran to meet him.
1. Compassion on his most miserable condition, and his deep distress of mind.
2. Runs to meet him, because of the great delight in seeing him returning home, and because he wished to succour and comfort him.
III. He fell on his neck and kissed him; in like manner God pities His enemies, but delights in those who come home to Him, who are members of Christ, and are led by His Spirit.
IV. In regeneration God and man meet; they meet in peace and love; and they meet to part no more for ever.—Jones.
Imperfect Contrition, and God’s Response to it.—The father’s kiss conveys and implies the assurance of forgiveness. In the rehabilitation of this outcast youth there are two stages—
(1) the human, and
(2) the Divine. The Divine must have necessary preference over the human. The son would not seem to have reached any very high plane of moral life and feeling when the father met him. He was hunger-hunted, that was all. That penitence? It looks more like scheming self-interest. The action has scarcely any strain of moral sentiment and aspiration in it whatsoever. He was moving on a comparatively ignoble level, but the level led by unmistakeable gradients that their father’s eye could follow into the far-off future up to something nobler and better at last. The first movements of the man’s mind before it has been transformed by the magic effusion of the father’s love cannot escape some strain of the old sordidness. If it is the wrath to come rather than the wretchedness he is leaving behind that excites his first movements toward home, his repentance is still open to the impeachment of self-interest. The father, however, saw the dip, and trend, and direction, in this pathway of imperfect motive. The soul is not noble in its first steps of penitential movement towards home. It is made so by the touch of God’s reconciling love.—Selby.
Luk_15:21. The Penitential Confession.
I. The Prodigal Son returns to his father’s house in a very different state of mind from that in which he left it.
II. We see here a penitent, approaching mercy’s door, confessing his sins and praying for pardon.
1. He comes as a true penitent.
2. He seeks for no excuse, and does not even use his penitence as a plea.
III. His deep distress, which is both unavoidable and beneficial.
IV. He dwells upon the magnitude and aggravations of his sins.
V. He manifests deep humility.—Jones.
The Prepared Speech only Half Said.—Why did he not say all he had intended? Because he was prevented from saying more by the kisses of his father, and the other tokens of his father’s love.
I. The confession of sin made.—
1. The confession is filial in its spirit.
2. The confession is personal in its character.
II. The aggravations of sin acknowledged.—
1. It is sin committed against sovereign authority.
2. It is sin committed in the face of fatherly love.
III. The conviction of unworthiness expressed.—
1. The sense of unworthiness altered.
2. The appeal to paternal compassion implied.—Ritchie.
Repentance of Fear and Repentance of Love.—There is a profound difference between the confession uttered by the Prodigal Son (Luk_15:21), and that which the depth of his misery had extorted from him (Luk_15:18-19). The latter was a cry of despair. Now distress has passed away, and the confession has become the cry of repentant love. The words are the same—“I have sinned”—but the tone in which they are uttered is different. Luther recognised the difference very clearly; and the repentance of love as distinguished from the repentance of fear was the true principle of the Reformation.—Godet.
Luk_15:22-24. Free and Complete Forgiveness.—The forgiveness granted is both freely given and complete in its character. It is not preceded by any humiliating penance, or period of probation, or any successive stages of restoration to favour. In an instant he is reinstated in the place, and invested with the dignity, of a son.
The Prodigal is not put through a preparatory discipline, lodged in some sad and dreary moral quarantine, till some of the loathsomeness and defilement of sin be worn off him. His rags are exchanged for princely clothing; a feast is prepared to relieve his hunger and thirst.
Christ here Teaches Two Great Lessons:—
I. That God receives and forgives a sinner who comes back repentant.
II. That He delights in the act of thus forgiving repentant sinners.
Luk_15:22.
I. The robe of filial acceptance.—
1. The best robe—best for covering, endurance, and beauty.
2. The bringing forth of the best robe, the open exhibition and free offer of Jesus’ righteousness.
3. The putting on of the best robe.
II. The ring of filial distinction.—
1. This is a token of filial relation.
(2) This is a badge of filial privilege.
3. This is a pledge of filial inheritance.
III. The shoes for filial life.—
1. The shoes prepare for walking in the comfort of a Song of Solomon 2. The shoes prepare for walking in the freedom of a Song of Solomon 3. The shoes prepare for walking in the service of a son.—Ritchie.
“The best robe.”—Cf. Zec_3:4-5 : “And He answered and spake unto those that stood by, saying, Take away the filthy garments from him. And unto him He said, Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment.… And they clothed him with garments.” See also Isa_61:10; Rev_3:18.
“The best robe.”
I. When a sinner truly repents and turns to God, no mention is made of his past offences.
II. The father ordered his servants to clothe, adorn, and feed his starving Song of Solomon 1. The children of men are the objects of God’s care and kindness.
2. He employs some servants to convey His gifts and blessings to His children.
III. The father ordered the best robe to be brought for him:
1. A mark of His love.
2. A meet dress for the company he was now to move in.
IV. A ring for his hand:
(1) as symbol of the covenant of everlasting union; and
(2) as an ornament.
V. And shoes for his feet; he must now walk in a new way, which he never knew before.—Jones.
Luk_15:23-24.
I. The provision for joy in the penitent’s return.—
1. The bringing forth of Christ’s atoning sacrifice as the provision of joy.
2. The partaking of Christ’s atoning sacrifice as the substance of joy.
II. The grounds of joy over the penitent’s return.—
1. He was dead, and is alive again.
2. He was lost, and is found.—Ritchie.
Luk_15:23. The Richest Feast.
I. This feast is the great salvation by Christ crucified.
II. The children of grace feed and live on the provisions which their heavenly Father has treasured up for them in the fulness of Christ.
III. The benefits of actual feeding on the gospel feast are truly great and lasting:
(1) Believers thus come into closer union with Christ;
(2) into communion with Him;
(3) are transformed into His image;
(4) and grow in grace, and in meetness for heaven.—Jones.
Luk_15:24.
I. Angels rejoice over the coming back of a sinner to God.
II. Believers rejoice over the return of a brother to their Father’s house, because he is a brother; because they themselves know the happiness of the saving change; because this change brings honour to their Saviour.
III. God rejoices over the restoration of a son to filial life and love.
IV. The penitent rejoices in the welcome to his Father’s heart and home—the joy of rescue, of acceptance, of a new nature, of communion, of possession and hope.—Ritchie.
“Dead … lost.”—The word “dead” describes the misery into which the Prodigal had sunk; “lost” describes the father’s experience of deprivation during his son’s absence. These two aspects of sin correspond to the representations in the two preceding parables: the son had strayed away (like the lost sheep), the father had lost something (as the woman had lost the piece of silver).
The Great Rejoicing.
I. The cause of the joy:
1. The penitent son as one alive from the dead.
2. As one lost who had been found.
II. The nature of the joy: universal, high, and eternal.—Jones.
Luk_15:25-32. Vindication of the Family Joy.
I. The elder brother’s anger at the Prodigal’s reception.—
1. The occasion of his anger.
2. The expression of his anger.
II. The father’s vindication of the family joy.—
1. The father’s forbearance with an unfilial spirit.
2. The reasons he alleges for the joy.
III. The lessons of truth here conveyed.—
1. God’s love to fallen men.
2. Christ’s condemnation of the self-righteous, of their pride and contempt for others.
3. The Divine welcome to great sinners.—Ritchie.
A Picture of the Legalistic, Grudging Pharisee.
I. Jealous discontent.
II. Unfair complaints.
III. A gentle answer.
Taylor.
Luk_15:25. “Was in the field.”—The vividness and beauty of the story is heightened by the fact that the elder son, at the return of his brother, is not in the house, but has spent the day in hard, slavish service, and now first returns home at eventime, when the feast was already in progress.
More Perilous Faults.—The elder son is still a son, nor are his faults intrinsically more heinous—though more perilous, because more likely to lead to self-deception—than those of the younger. Self-righteousness is sin as well as unrighteousness, and may be even a worse sin (Mat_21:31-32); but God has provided for both sins a full sacrifice and a free forgiveness.—Farrar.
The Mirror Held Up to The Pharisees.—The Pharisees had said at Luk_15:7, at least in their hearts, “These ninety and nine just persons are ourselves, however!” And again, while hearing of the lost son, “This does not assuredly point to us!” Another mirror is now held up before them—“But here see yourselves!”—Stier.
Luk_15:27. “Safe and sound.”—How nice is the observance of all the lesser proprieties of the narrative! The father, in the midst of all his natural affection, is yet full of the moral significance of his son’s return—that he has come back another person from what he was when he went, or while he tarried in that far land; he sees into the deep of his joy that he is receiving him now indeed a son—once dead, but now alive; once lost to him, but now found alike by both. But the servant confines himself to the more external features of the case, to the fact that, after all he has gone through of excess and hardship, his father has yet received him safe and sound.—Trench.
Luk_15:28-32. The Father’s Condescension and Kindness.—Note
(1) the father’s condescension, and
(2) his kindness in dealing with the elder son. He does not send a servant, but goes himself. He entreats him to lay aside his displeasure and to come in to welcome home his brother and to partake of the feast. And notwithstanding his son’s boasting and rude attack, he continues composed and loving, and answers with meekness.—Foote.
Luk_15:28-30. An Unlovely Character.—Note
(1) the elder brother’s displeasure at the kind reception of his prodigal brother;
(2) his self-righteous pride;
(3) his ungracious complaint;
(4) his malicious exaggeration of his brother’s misdeeds, and his ignoring the change that had taken place in him; and
(5) his refusal to acknowledge him as his brother.
Luk_15:29-30. Two Complaints.—The elder son has two complaints to make:
1. He himself has been harshly treated.
2. His unworthy brother has been too kindly treated. The father replies to each of these charges in Luk_15:31-32.
Luk_15:29. “Do I serve thee.”—He thus shows that he was a slave. His father was regarded by him as a master—nay, as an unjust master—and he looks back upon his many years of ill-requited labours. Though in his father’s house, he has utterly lost the filial spirit, while his brother even when far away had retained some measure of it. He is, therefore, so to speak, the real and more entirely lost son.
No Confession of Shortcoming.—Observe that while the younger son confesses with no excuse, the elder son boasts with no confession. This at once proves his hollowness, for the confessions of the holiest are ever the most bitter.—Farrar.
“Never gavest me.”—He falls into the very sin which his brother committed when he said, “Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.” He, too, is feeling that he does not truly possess what he possesses with his father, but that he must separate something off from his father’s stock before he can count it properly his own.—Trench.
Luk_15:30. “Thy son.”—Some such word as “precious”—“this thy precious son” would bring out the elder brother’s implied contempt still more clearly; while “this thy dear brother,” in Luk_15:32, would suggest the father’s affectionate reproof more adequately. Both words are implied in the tone of the two speeches.
Luk_15:31-32. The Privilege of Service.
I. Fidelity in service is a privilege, and not servitude.
II. A sinful life is a disaster, and not happiness to be envied. For the elder son contrasts his own hard and unremitting service with the careless and self-indulgent career of his younger brother. “He has enjoyed all the pleasures of sin, and now he enjoys all the happiness of salvation! I have never known anything but painful obedience to Thy commandments!”
Luk_15:31. “Son, thou art ever with me.”—Though the son does not say, “Father,” the father address him as “Son.” This sets forth God’s forbearing kindness toward the self-righteous and uncharitable.
The Preacher's Complete Homiletical Commentary (gen. ed. Joseph S. Exell; Funk & Wagnalls, c. 1892) — public domain (pre-1929). A full-Bible homiletical/sermon-outline anthology covering 65 of 66 books (2 John is absent from the source module). Text from a community e-Sword module.
William B. Godbey 1900 · Public Domain Luk 15:11-32. “But He said, A certain man had…
THE PRODIGAL SON
Luk 15:11-32. “But He said, A certain man had two sons. The younger of them said to the father, Father, give me the portion of the estate which falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.”
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a. This has been pronounced by exegetes “the pearl of our Lord’s parables.” It was delivered in Perea, east of the Jordan, about nine or ten days before our Lord was crucified. As patriarchal law always gave the first-born two portions of the patrimony, the younger son could only claim one-third of the estate. The Bible is God’s looking-glass, not only showing up Redeeming Love and Omnipotent Grace in their grandeur and glory, but human character in all its weakness and mistakes Though the father here symbolizes God, methinks he made a mistake in yielding to the importunity of his dear boy, whom he so tenderly loved. Let us profit by his mistake, and learn how to refuse our children apparent blessings, which are calculated to imperil their spiritual security by exposing them to insurmountable temptation.
b. “Not many days afterward, gathering all his possessions, the younger son departed into a far country, and there wasted his substance, living recklessly.” The father’s house, in which both the sons were born, is the kingdom of grace, in which all of Adam’s race are born in innocency, justified by the work of Christ alone, who tasted death for every, one (Heb 2:9), so gloriously redeeming the whole race as to superinduce the prenatal justification, regeneration, and adoption of every human being, so that none are born under condemnation, but all freely justified by the wonderful vicarious atonement of Christ. Hence you see these two sons were both born in their father’s house — i.e., the kingdom of grace out of which they could only fall by willful transgression. Now what is the estate of this younger brother? It is the precious grace of his infantile justification, which he inherited from a merciful Heavenly Father through the atonement of His Son. The epoch in his life, when every one receives his part of the father’s estate, is spiritual adultage, when we all know good from evil, and become personally responsible for our acts of thought, word and deed. This young man goes away from God’s people, the Jews, far out into the Gentile world, and dwells among the heathens, whose precept and example are calculated constantly to draw him away from the law and the prophets, and make him a practical heathen. Unfortunately, he gives way to the influence of social environment, casting off the rigid discipline of his father’s home, and living recklessly; i. e., without parental restraint.
c. “And he, having spent all, a sore famine prevailed throughout that country, and he began to be in want.” This marks the epoch of his consummated apostasy from the precepts and example of his father’s home. He has gone out there with the rich legacy of his infantile justification, the innocency of his babyhood, and the purity of his early boyhood. He has expended all by neglecting and ignoring the precepts and laws of his father’s home, the bright day of his childhood having evanesced, and the black night of condemnation enveloped his sky in the dismal clouds issuing from the bottomless pit, while the blessed Holy Spirit, still pursuing him, quickens his appetite for the soul-pabulum on which he subsisted in his father’s home, but which is now all gone, while gaunt famine stalks before him night and day, turning on him her ghastly visage, like a dismal demon eloped from the regions of woe, and claiming him for her hopeless victim.
HE JOINS A CARNAL CHURCH, AND IS PROMOTED TO OFFICE
d. “And going, he joined himself to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine.” It’s a great mistake to think the heathens have no churches. They have more than we have. They dot the country everywhere. There are said to be four hundred Mohammedan mosques in the city of Cairo, Egypt. I am witness to the fact that their minarets dot the metropolis from center to circumference. The antediluvian world was full of Churches of the anti-holiness type, founded by Cain, which eventually, under the increasing wickedness, swallowed up the holiness people, except one family. The swine, a notoriously unclean animal, by Jehovah interdicted to the Jews, symbolizes anti-holiness religion. Fortunately, this young man had not remained long enough amid his vicious environments to utterly grieve away the Holy Spirit, who still following him, fastens on him an awful conviction of that spiritual famine fast preparing him for hell. Responsive to this awful realization of starvation, he goes and “joins himself to a citizen of that land. who sends him to feed his hogs.” I have all my life seen a predominant predilection of dead carnal Churches to catch all the convicted people they can, lingering about and following after Holy Ghost revivals in order to gobble up the penitents before they get converted. In that way they labor indefatigably to build up their Churches, “compassing sea and land to make a proselyte.” I have frequently known them thus capture convicted sinners and promote them to office at once, in order to encourage and stick them fast. I have seen more of this than you would think. If they can only in that way get them satisfied without salvation, they are just about certain to effectually hoodwink them, fill them with bigotry, and lead them to hell. There is vastly more of this than you apprehend.
e. “And he was desiring to fill his stomach from the pods which the swine were eating, and no one gave unto him.” This passage is woefully misunderstood. “Husks,” E. V., is an utter mistake, as the Greek keration has no such a meaning. Besides, the hogs couldn’t live on husks, much less fatten, as you must remember that dead, carnal Churches are Satan’s hog-pens, in which he is fattening swine for the barbecues of the bottomless pit. I always heard that the prodigal wanted to eat with the hogs, but was not permitted. This is a mistake. He did eat with them. The Greek is the same here as in fine case of Lazarus eating the crumbs, and we know he got them. The statement, “No one gave unto him,” means that no one gave him anything else to eat, and having nothing but the hog-feed, which he daily carried to the to the animals, he ate of it bountifully. Now what was this hog-feed? I have seen it, and know whereof I affirm. Keration, which I translate “pods,” is the fruit growing on the carob-tree, which is indigenous in Palestine, Syria, Italy, and the Argentine Republic of South America. Keration means a horn, because the fruit is in pods, resembling that of the honey-locust in this country. These pods are about ten inches long, and one to two inches in diameter, running to a sharp point, resembling a horn. Consequently they call it the horn-fruit and the horn-tree. These pods contain a juicy pulp, of a sweet taste, and have kernels dispersed along through them about an inch apart. This fruit is devoured by hogs with great avidity, making them fat for the slaughter. It is also eaten by the poor people in all the countries where it grows. If you ever visit the Holy Land, you will find nice specimens of this tree growing on the slopes of Mount Olivet, along the road from Jerusalem to Bethany. If the prodigal had been satisfied with this food, he would have lived and died at the hog-pen. In the mercy of God his convictions would not down. O how frequently do the dead, worldly Churches get hold of people, and by promoting them to office, as in this case, succeed in flattering them till they drown out all of their convictions, grieve away the Holy Spirit, and seal their doom in endless ruin!
f. “And having come to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father have an abundance of bread, and here I famish with hunger!” The prayers of his father and mother still follow him in all his dreary wanderings, bringing down the Holy Spirit, who keeps on his track, fastening the conviction so tight that all the rites and ceremonies of carnal Churchism, the vanity and pomposity of official promotion, can never drive them away. Now, in the good mercy of God, the Holy Spirit augments his lingering conviction by a sunburst of illumination, shining into the deep interior of his spirit, revealing to him the silly futility of all his hopes through carnal religion, and flooding him with the heart-breaking reminiscence of the delightful home he once enjoyed; i.e., the sweet peace, rest, joy, and hope which thrilled the pure spirit of his infancy and childhood, when, uncontaminated with the vices and follies of an ungodly world, he lived in the sunshine of the Father’s approval and heavenly anticipation. The result is, that he comes to himself — ruined, debauched, condemned, hopeless, and on the brink of hell. All come to themselves at some time; if not sooner, when the devil comes after them, and they are dropping into the burning pit. Now and then, like this prodigal, one comes to himself in time to escape. But I awfully fear chat where one escapes, ninety and nine die at the hog-pen, dragged by demons into hell. Who are these servants of the Father? They are Christians, in the justified state, having not yet received the clear witness of the Spirit to adopting love and sanctifying power. (Rom 8:15-17, and Gal 4:1-7.) In these Scriptures you will find that people in spiritual infancy are denominated “servants.” But the same, having passed majority and entered into spiritual adultage, are designated “sons;” not that all born into the spiritual kingdom are not sons, nor that spiritual adults are not the servants of God, but servant and son are here used contrastively, the latter predominating in the sanctified experience, and the former in the justified; yet the participants of both experiences being simultaneously servants and sons.
g. “Having risen, I will go to my father, and say to him, Father, I sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants.” Here we see resolution after a long sleep, awakened by the Holy Ghost, and suddenly leaping into life, the auspicious harbinger of coming deliverance. Simultaneously, the blessed and indispensable grace of humiliation accompanies this Herculean resolution. These are the grand, salient steps which every penitent sinner must take. He must command a resolution that can not be intimidated by men or devils. Here this man has that whole carnal Church, as well as the powers of earth and hell, to hold him fast at the hog-pen. He flings to the winds all the pseudo consolations and honors of this worldly Church, and resolves to fight his way through platoons of devils back to his Father’s home. Here you see the work of repentance. It must travel every inch of that long, devious journey if it would get back to the Father’s house. But wonderful is the velocity of the truly convicted sinner because the Holy Ghost furnishes him wings, which distance men and devils with astounding expedition.
h. “And he, having risen, came toward his father. And he, being a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on him, and having run, fell upon his neck and kissed him copiously.” The Omniscient Eye of redeeming love and Fatherly affection follows every sinner in all his wanderings in the land of famine and death. Here you observe that the father saw him a great way off, because he had wandered a vast distance into the land of sorrow and doom. When the father saw that: he was homeward bound, he runs to meet him. O what a glorious consolation for every poor sinner! If he will only bid adieu to the hog-pen and start home, his loving Heavenly Father will run to meet him. The true reading here is katephilesen, which means “kissed him copiously;” i.e., kissed his face all over, washing it with the saliva of a father’s tender and unutterable love for his poor wandering boy. Somehow, in the Textus Receptus, from which the E. V. was translated, the kata, “copiously,” connected with the verb “kiss,” was omitted by some transcriber, thus detracting much from the force and beauty of this wonderful transaction. Of course, you know this is the kiss of peace, and means a free pardon of all his sins. O what a happy surprise to the poor prodigal, who, in the depths of his humiliation, only asked a servant’s place!
i. “And the son said, Father, I sinned against heaven, and I am no more worthy to be called thy son. And the father said to his servants, Bring hither the first robe, and put it on him; and give a ring to his hand, and shoes to his feet; and lead out the fatted calf, slay it, and eating, let us be merry, because this my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.” Here it says the “first robe,” which is the robe of holiness, washed whiter than snow in the blood of the Lamb. The first experience, justification, gives you the second robe, and a place at the second table; while the second experience, entire sanctification, gives you the first robe, and a place at the first table. Here we see a very rapid succession of the two works of grace, and but a brief interval elapsing between that copious, fatherly kiss of pardoning mercy and redeeming love and the investment with the robe of holiness, the brightest and the best for us in probationary life. Not only is this robe of holiness a confirmation of entire sanctification, but the ring of the covenant placed on the hand illustrates the spiritual wedlock. We are betrothed to Christ in regeneration, and married to Him in sanctification, the ring, in Oriental countries, being the especial confirmation of the matrimonial covenant. Now that he has received the robe of holiness and the ring of heavenly wedlock, it becomes pertinent that he should be a swift witness, a bold herald, going to the ends of the earth, and telling the wonderful story of redeeming love and sanctifying power. Consequently the gospel shoes are put on his feet, and he is a commissioned evangelist. Now we have passed through the negative side of the sanctified experience, and come to the glorious infilling of the Holy Ghost, so grandly and vividly emblematized by the fatted calf, which had been fattened in the stall, and kept for some great and important occasion. Now you see the royal festival. Does any one deny the grand and glorious realities of experimental religion, peace flowing like a river, righteousness like the waves of the sea, and the unutterable joy of the Holy Ghost thrilling our spiritual being? Come and gaze upon this festal revelry. See the poor prodigal, after long and torturing starvation, now feasting on the farted calf! The tenderloin is between his teeth, and the gravy has painted his face, while the fat is dripping from his lips. Is not that a matter- of-fact experience, which even a wooden man can see?
j. “And the elder son was in the field, and when, coming, he drew near the house, he heard music and dancing; and calling one of the servants, he asked what these things might be. And he said to him, Thy brother has come, and thy father hath slain the fatted calf because he received him well. And he was angry, and was not willing to come in; and his father, having gone out, continued to entreat him; and he, responding, said to the father, Behold, so many years I serve thee, and never did I transgress thy commandment, and thou hast never given me a kid, that I may make merry with my friends; but when this thy son, having devoured thy living with harlots, came, thou didst slay for him the fatted calf.”
The elder brother, as well as the prodigal, had been born in the father’s house — i.e., in the kingdom of grace — and while his brother had strayed away, and wandered long in the bleak wilds of Satan’s kingdom, he had spent all his life in the patriarchal home, with all the comforts of domestic life, every conceivable want supplied. As a clear demonstration that he had never forfeited his infantile justification, we hear him certify to his father, “I have never at any time transgressed thy commandment.” If he had been mistaken, the father would most assuredly have corrected him. Therefore the silence of the father at this point is ample proof that the statement of the eider son is correct, plainly illustrating the gracious possibility of retaining the infantile justification clearly out into discretion and responsibility, till actually superseded by the justification through faith of intelligent adultage. However, we see very dearly the survival of unholy tempers in the elder brother, manifested in the jealousy, envy, peevishness, and pusillanimity which he clearly shows in the complaint he offers, observing, “All these years have I served thee, and never at any time transgressed thy commandment, and thou hast never at any time given me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.” Observe the contrast: A kid is a very little animal comparatively with the fatted calf, which was slain by way of congratulating the returned prodigal. You see clearly that the elder brother needed sanctification to take out of him all the fret and worry. If he had been truly sanctified, instead of complaining and fretting, he would have joined in the general jollification over his rescued brother. You also observe that the younger brother had actually gotten out ahead of him, having not only been converted, but sanctified. As the father well says to the elder brother, “Thou art ever with me, and all mine is thine.” While the prodigal had received his portion of the estate and wasted it, the elder brother had two portions — i.e., double the amount which the prodigal ever had and never expended any of it; but on the contrary, by his faithful service under the wise supervision of his father, had added much to it. Consequently the facilities of the elder were decidedly superior to those of the younger; while the possibilities of redeeming grace, regenerating and sanctifying the poor victims of sensuality, debauchery, iniquity, crime, degradation, and debasement are wonderful, eclipsing all human anticipation, becoming the astonishment of men, angels, and devils, yet the availability and possibilities of a soul who has never passed through Satan’s flint-mills of enervating and emasculating misery and degradation are decidedly superior to all the facilities and feasibilities of the former. While the victims of sin and misery, through the wonders of redeeming grace, may rise and shine like luminaries in the firmament of truth and righteousness, yet the same would shine with a far brighter luster, and grander effulgence if they had never been smashed and crashed into smithereens by platoons of merciless demons, and ridden by old Diabolus till they became gaunt as infernal specters. Hence, while we all rejoice over the saved and sanctified, we recognize still grander possibilities of broader, deeper, higher, and more enduring achievements on the part of the elder brother, who, having twice as much as the younger to begin with, had retained it all, and doubtless augmented it, till perhaps his patrimony at the time of his brother’s return was double or treble the original amount. However, he much needed the sanctifying baptism of the Holy Ghost, to consume all the debris of original sin which he had inherited from Adam the First, retained through his infantile justification, and now, that he is evidently enjoying the justification of intelligent manhood, we observe suggestions of an unsanctified condition still rising up, marring his peace, disturbing his soul-rest, and threatening defeat in spiritual conflict. As the Greek here says the father continued to exhort him, the imperfect tense showing indefinite perpetuity, we conclude that the persistent exhortation culminated in his conviction for entire sanctification. I am sure that grand holiness revival, which had broken out in the patriarchal home on the prodigal’s return, was an auspicious time for the elder brother, as well as others, to get gloriously sanctified. I take it for granted that, pursuant to the father’s exhortation and the happy influences of the holiness band, shouting round the returned prodigal, he actually fell in, received the first robe and the matrimonial ring, like his brother, and like his brother fell into the jollification, rejoicing, feasting, and shouting till three worlds were attracted by the sensation.
k. “Child, thou art always with me; all mine are thine. It behooved us to rejoice and be glad, because this thy brother was dead, and is alive; was lost, and is found.” Satan sent a thunderbolt of sin through Eden, and slew the whole human race. Unfallen humanity had no posterity. Therefore all the teeming millions of Adam’s universal family have been born spiritually dead, as Adam and Eve could not transmit what they did not possess. Christ came to destroy the works of the devil, His omnipotent redeeming grace reaching every individual of the mined race so soon as soul and body united constitute personality. (Heb 2:9.) While in Adam all die, in Christ all are made alive. (1Co 15:22.) The death in Adam is seminal, affecting the race as such; while the revivification in Christ is personal, reaching the individual. Therefore personality must obtain in order to the availability of the Messianic redemption. In the case of the prodigal, having been born in the kingdom of grace — i.e., his father’s house — through the redemption of Christ, he had yielded to temptation, and committed actual sins, which have sent a death-blow through his immortal spirit. Consequently he was dead till the father’s copious kiss restored him to life; and lost from the kingdom of grace and glory till the father’s loving arms rescued him from the realms of Satan’s dismal midnight, in which he had wandered and suffered weary years.
l. This parable ranks pre-eminent in the estimation of exegetes, beautifully, vividly, illustratively, and demonstratively revealing the gracious economy, from infantile justification, through the dreary meanderings of apostasy, degradation, and dead Churchism, back to a glorious reclamation, through justification and regeneration, and culminating in triumphant sanctification, illustrated by the robe of holiness, and confirmed by the wedding-ring, the gospel shoes outfitting him for the evangelistic field; the elder brother lucidly revealing; the gracious possibility of indefinitely retaining the infantile justification clearly out into adult, intelligent, and responsible harmonization with the Divine law, amid the approval of the Heavenly Father, rendering him eligible to the glorious grace of entire sanctification.
William B. Godbey, Commentary on the New Testament (1896–1900) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Alexander MacLaren 1905 · Public Domain
Luke
‘THAT WHICH WAS LOST’
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THE PRODIGAL AND HIS FATHER
Luk 15:11 - Luk 15:24.
The purpose of the three parables in this chapter has to be kept in mind. Christ is vindicating His action in receiving sinners, which had evoked the murmurings of the Pharisees. The first two parables, those of the lost sheep and the lost drachma, appeal to the common feeling which attaches more importance to lost property just because it is lost than to that which is possessed safely. This parable rises to a higher level. It appeals to the universal emotion of fatherhood, which yearns over a wandering child just because he has wandered.
We note a further advance, in the proportion of one stray sheep to the ninety-nine, and of one lost coin to the nine, contrasted with the sad equality of obedience and disobedience in the two sons. One per cent., ten per cent., are bearable losses, but fifty per cent. is tragic.
I. The first part {Luk 15:11 - Luk 15:16} tells of the son’s wish to be his own master, and what came of it.
The desire to be independent is good, but when it can only be attained by being dependent on him whose authority is irksome, it takes another colour. This foolish boy wished to be able to use his father’s property as his own, but he had to get the father’s consent first. It is a poor beginning of independence when it has to be set up in business by a gift.
That is the essential absurdity in our attempts to do without God and to shake off His control. We can only get power to seem to do it by misusing His gifts. When we say, ‘Who is Lord over us?’ the tongues which say it were given us by Him. The next step soon followed. ‘Not many days after,’ of course, for the sense of ownership could not be kept up while near the father. A man who wishes to enjoy worldly good without reference to God is obliged, in self-defence, to hustle God out of his thoughts as soon and as completely as possible.
The ‘far country’ is easily reached; and it is far, though a step can land us in it. A narrow bay may compel a long journey round its head before those on its opposite shores can meet. Sin takes us far away from God, and the root of all sin is that desire of living to one’s self which began the prodigal’s evil course.
The third step in his downward career, wasting his substance in riotous living, comes naturally after the two others; for all self-centred life is in deepest truth waste, and the special forms of gross dissipation to which youth is tempted are only too apt to follow the first sense of being their own masters, and removed from the safeguards of their earthly father’s home. Many a lad in our great cities goes through the very stages of the parable, and, when a mother’s eye is no longer on him, plunges into filthy debauchery. But living which does not outrage the proprieties may be riotous all the same; for all conduct which ignores God and asserts self as supreme is flagrantly against the very nature of man, and is reckless waste.
Such a ‘merry’ life is sure to be ‘short.’ There is always famine in the land of forgetfulness of God, and when the first gloss is off its enjoyments, and one’s substance is spent, its pinch is felt. The unsatisfied hunger of heart, which dogs godless living, too often leads but to deeper degradation and closer entanglement with low satisfactions. Men madly plunge deeper into the mud in hope of finding the pearl which has thus far eluded their search.
A miserable thing this young fool had made of his venture, having spent his capital, and now being forced to become a slave, and being set to nothing better than to feed swine. The godless world is a hard master, and has very odious tasks for its bondsmen. The unclean animals are fit companions for one who made himself lower than they, since filth is natural to them and shameful for him. They are better off than he is, for husks do nourish them, and they get their fill, but he who has sunk to longing for swine’s food cannot get even that. The dark picture is only too often verified in the experience of godless men.
II. The wastrel’s returning sanity is described in Luk 15:17 - Luk 15:20.
‘He came to himself.’ Then he had been beside himself before. It is insanity to try to shake off God, to aim at independence, to wander from Him, to fling away our ‘substance,’ that is, our true selves, and to starve among the swine-troughs. He remembers the bountiful housekeeping at home, as starving men dream of feasts, and he thinks of himself with a kind of pity and amazement.
There is no sign that his conscience smote him, or that his heart woke in love to his father. His stomach, and it only, urged him to go home. He did, indeed, feel that he had been wrong, and had forfeited the right to be called a son, but he did not care much for losing that name, or even for losing the love to which it had the right, if only he could get as much to eat as one of the hired servants, whose relation to the master was less close, and, in patriarchal times, less happy, than that of slaves born in the house.
One good thing about the lad was that he did not let the grass grow under his feet, but, as soon as he had made the resolution, began to carry it into effect. The bane of many a resolve to go back to God is that it is ‘sicklied o’er’ by procrastination. The ragged prodigal has not much to leave which need hold him, but many such a one says, ‘I will arise and go to my father to-morrow,’ and lets all the to-morrows become yesterdays, and is sitting among the swine still.
Low as the prodigal’s motive for return was, the fact of his return was enough. So is it in regard to our attitude to the gospel. Men may be drawn to give heed to its invitations from the instinct of self-preservation, or from their sense of hungry need, and the belief that in it they will find the food they crave for, while there may be little consciousness of longing for more from the Father than the satisfaction of felt wants. The longing for a place in the Father’s heart will spring up later, but the beginning of most men’s taking refuge in God as revealed in Christ is the gnawing of a hungry heart. The call to all is, ‘Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat.’
III. The climax of the parable, for which all the rest is but as scaffolding, is the father’s welcome {vs. 20b-24}.
Filial love may die in the son’s heart, but paternal yearning lives in the father’s. The wanderer’s heart would be likely to sink as he came nearer the father’s tent. It had seemed easy to go back when he acted the scene in imagination, but every step homewards made the reality more difficult.
No doubt he hesitated when the old home came in sight, and perhaps his resolution would have oozed out at his finger ends if he had had to march up alone in his rags, and run the gauntlet of servants before he came to speech with his father. So his father’s seeing him far off and running to meet him is exquisitely in keeping, as well as movingly setting forth how God’s love goes out to meet His returning prodigals. That divine insight which discerns the first motions towards return, that divine pity which we dare venture to associate with His infinite love, that eager meeting the shamefaced and slow-stepping boy half-way, and that kiss of welcome before one word of penitence or request had been spoken, are all revelations of the heart of God, and its outgoings to every wanderer who sets his face to return.
Beautifully does the father’s welcome make the son’s completion of his rehearsed speech impossible. It does not prevent his expression of penitence, for the more God’s love is poured over us, the more we feel our sin. But he had already been treated as a son, and could not ask to be taken as a servant. Beautifully, too, the father gives no verbal answer to the lad’s confession, for his kiss had answered it already; but he issues instructions to the servants which show that the pair have now reached the home and entered it together.
The gifts to the prodigal are probably significant. They not only express in general the cordiality of the welcome, but seem to be capable of specific interpretations, as representing various aspects of the blessed results of return to God. The robe is the familiar emblem of character. The prodigal son is treated like the high-priest in Zechariah’s vision; his rags are stripped off, and he is clothed anew in a dress of honour. ‘Them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also sanctified.’ The ring is a token of wealth, position, and honour. It is also a sign of delegated authority, and is an ornament to the hand. So God gives His prodigals, when they come back, an elevation which unforgiven beings do not reach, and sets them to represent Him, and arrays them in strange beauty. No doubt the lad had come back footsore and bleeding, and the shoes may simply serve to keep up the naturalness of the story. But probably they suggest equipment for the journey of life. That is one of the gifts that accompany forgiveness. Our feet are shod with the preparedness of the gospel of peace.
Last of all comes the feast. Heaven keeps holiday when some poor waif comes shrinking back to the Father. The prodigal had been content to sink his sonship for the sake of a loaf, but he could not get bread on such terms. He had to be forgiven and bathed in the outflow of his father’s love before he could be fed; and, being thus received, he could not but be fed. The feast is for those who come back penitently, and are received forgivingly, and endowed richly by the Father in heaven.
Alexander MacLaren, Expositions of Holy Scripture (1904–1910) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
J. W. McGarvey 1914 · Public Domain J. W. McGarvey's The Fourfold Gospel [XCII. D. Parable…
J. W. McGarvey's The Fourfold Gospel [XCII. D. Parable of the Lost Son].
XCII. SECOND GREAT GROUP OF PARABLES. (Probably in Peræa.) Subdivision D. PARABLE OF THE LOST SON. cLUKE XV. 11-32.
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c11 And he said, A certain man had two sons [These two sons represent the professedly religious (the elder) and the openly irreligious (the younger). They have special reference to the two parties found in the Luk_15:1, Luk_15:2--the Pharisees, the publicans and sinners]: [501] 12 and the younger of them [the more childish and easily deceived] said to his father, Father, give me the portion of i thy substance that falleth to me. [Since the elder brother received a double portion, the younger brother's part would be only one-third of the property-- Deu_21:17.] And he divided unto them his living. [Abraham so divided his estate in his lifetime ( Gen_25:1-6); but the custom does not appear to have been general among the Jews. God, however, gives gifts and talents to us all, so the parable fits the facts of life-- Psa_145:9, Mat_5:45, Act_10:34.] 13 And not many days after [with all haste], the younger son gathered all together and took his journey into a far country. [He yearned for the spurious liberty of a land where he would be wholly independent of his father. Thus the sinful soul seeks to escape from the authority of God]; and there he wasted his substance with riotous living. [Sin now indulges itself with unbridled license, and the parable depicts the sinner's course: his season of indulgences ( Luk_15:12, Luk_15:13); his misery ( Luk_15:14-16); his repentance ( Luk_15:17-20); his forgiveness ( Luk_15:20-24).] 14 And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that country; and he began to be in want. [Sooner or later sinful practices fail to satisfy, and the sense of famine and want mark the crises in our lives as they did in the life of the prodigal. The direst famine is that of the word of God-- Amo_8:11-13, Jer_2:13.] 15 And he went and joined [literally, glued] himself to one of the citizens of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed [literally, to pasture or tend] swine. [This was, to the Jew, the bottom of degradation's pit. They so abhorred swine that they refused to name them. They spoke of a pig as dabhar acheer; i. e., "the other thing."] 16 And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. [The master upon whom he had forced himself did not deem his services worthy of enough food to sustain life; so that he would gladly have eaten the husks or pods of the carob bean, which are very similar to our [502] honey-locust pods, if they would have satisfied his hunger.] 17 But when he came to himself [his previous state had been one of delusion and semi-madness ( Ecc_9:3); in it his chief desire had been to get away from home, but returning reason begets a longing to return thither] he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish here with hunger! 18 I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight: 19 I am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. [The humility of his confession indicates that the term "riotous living" means more than merely a reckless expenditure of money. But vile as he was he trusted that his father's love was sufficient to do something for him.] 20 And he arose, and came to his father. [Repentance is here pictured as a journey. It is more than a mere emotion or impulse.] But while he was yet afar off, his father saw him [being evidently on the lookout for him], and was moved with compassion [seeing his ragged, pitiable condition], and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. [Giving him as warm a welcome as if he had been a model son.] 21 And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight: I am no more worthy to be called thy son. [The son shows a manly spirit in adhering to his purpose to make a confession, notwithstanding the warmth of his father's welcome; in grieving for what he had done, and not for what he had lost; and in blaming no one but himself.] 22 But the father said to his servants [interrupting the son in his confession], Bring forth quickly the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet [none but servants went barefooted]: 23 and bring the fatted calf [which, according to Eastern custom, was held in readiness for some great occasion ( Gen_18:7, 1Sa_28:24, 2Sa_6:13), and which some custom still exists], and kill it, and let us eat, and make merry [the robe, [503] ring, etc., are merely part of the parabolic drapery, and are so many sweet assurances of full restoration and forgiveness, and are not to be pressed beyond this]: 24 for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. [The condition of the impenitent sinner is frequently expressed in the Bible under the metaphor of death-- Rom_6:13, Eph_2:1, Eph_5:14, Rev_3:1.] And they began to be merry. [Having thus finished his account of the openly irreligious, Jesus now turns to portray that of the professedly religious; i. e., he turns from the publican to the Pharisee. He paints both parties as alike children of God, as both faulty and sinful in his sight, and each as being loved despite his faultiness. But while the story of the elder son had a present and local application to the Pharisees, it is to be taken comprehensively as describing all the self-righteous who murmur at and refuse to take part in the conversion of sinners.] 25 Now his elder son was in the field [at work]: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. [He heard evidences of joy, a joy answering to that mentioned at Luk_15:7, Luk_15:10; the joy of angels in seeing the publicans and sinners repenting and being received by Jesus--the joy at which the Pharisees had murmured.] 26 And he called to him one of the servants, and inquired what these things might be. 27 And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. 28 But he was angry, and would not go in [he refused to be a party to such a proceeding]: and his father came out, and entreated him. [In the entreating father Jesus pictures the desire and effort of God then and long afterwards put forth to win the proud, exclusive, self-righteous spirits which filled the Pharisees and other Jews-- Luk_13:34, Act_13:44-46, Act_28:22-28.] 29 But he answered and said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee [literally, I am thy slave], and I never transgressed a commandment of thine [He speaks with the true Pharisaic spirit [504] ( Luk_18:11, Luk_18:12, Rom_3:9). His justification was as proud as the prodigal's confession was humble]; and i yet thou never gavest me a kid [much less a calf], that I might make merry with my friends [he reckons as a slave, so much pay for so much work, and his complaint suggests that he might have been as self-indulgent as his brother had he not been restrained by prudence]: 30 but when this thy son [he thus openly disclaims him as a brother] came, who hath devoured thy living with harlots [and not decent friends such as mine], thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. 31 And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me [a privilege which the elder brother had counted as naught, or rather as slavery], and all that is mine is thine. [See Rom_9:4, Rom_9:5. The younger brother had the shoes, etc., but the elder still had the inheritance.] 32 But it was meet to make merry and be glad [ Act_11:18]: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive i again; and was lost and is found. [Here the story ends. We are not told how the elder brother acted, but we may read his history in that of the Jews who refused to rejoice with Jesus in the salvation of sinners. At the next Passover they carried their resentment against him to the point of murder, and some forty years later the inheritance was taken from them. Thus we see that the elder brother was not pacified by the father. He continued to rebel against the father's will till he himself became the lost son. A comparison of the three preceding parables brings out many suggestive points, thus: The first parable illustrates Christ's compassion. A sentient, suffering creature is lost, and it was bad for it that it should be so. Hence it must be sought, though its value is only one out of a hundred. Man's lost condition makes him wretched. The second parable shows us how God values a soul. A lifeless piece of metal is lost, and while it could not be pitied, it could be valued, and since its value was one out ten, it was bad for the owner that it should be lost. God looks upon man's loss as his impoverishment. The first two parables depict the efforts of Christ in the salvation of man, or that [505] side of conversion more apparent, so to speak, to God; while the third sets forth the responsive efforts put forth by man to avail himself of God's salvation--the side of conversion more apparent to us. Moreover, as the parabolic figures become more nearly literal, as we pass from sheep and coin to son, the values also rise, and instead of one from a hundred, or one from ten, we have one out of two!]
[FFG 501-506]
J. W. McGarvey (with Philip Y. Pendleton), Commentaries on the New Testament (The Fourfold Gospel, 1914; Acts; and the epistles) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.
Paul E. Kretzmann 1924 · Public Domain The Prodigal Son.
The Prodigal Son.
The reckless departure:
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v. 11. And He said, A certain man had two sons;
v. 12. and the younger of them, said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.
v. 13. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living.
This story has been called the Gospel within the Gospel, since it brings out the fundamental thought of the message of grace so beautifully, the acceptance of the sinners without any merit or worthiness on their part. Two sons a certain man had, both of them in a good home, with all the comforts and advantages which the word implies. But the younger one felt the fretful stir of youth. The boundaries of the home place were altogether too narrow for him, and the restrictions placed upon him by the paternal jurisdiction seemed altogether too galling. The first step of his desire for freedom, as he may have termed it to himself, was the demand that his father give him the goods to which he would fall heir after his father’s death. It has been custom in the Orient from times immemorial for sons to demand and receive their portion of the inheritance during their father’s lifetime; and in many countries the parent could not legally refuse to comply with the request. So the father, realizing that the heart of the boy was set upon his goods and not upon his person, as filial love would demand, divided his entire living, all that he had, to his two sons, the older probably receiving the home place, and the younger, money. So the younger boy now had the means to carry out any desires that he may have been secretly cherishing. And he determined within a few days to slip off the irksome fetters of parental authority and supervision. He heeded the voice of the oldest delusion in the world, namely, that things in the distance, which wear the halo of desirableness, too often prove mirages which lure people to destruction. He was determined to have his fling; he gathered together all his property, being in haste to escape into wild liberty or license. Home is usually a dear place, and homesickness takes hold of a great many children that are obliged to leave its sacred boundaries, but here selfishness and willfulness had taken possession of his heart. Far away he went, the farther the better, and then he dissipated and flung away all that he had in a dissolute life. The journey led recklessly to final degradation. That is a picture of a person that has grown up in the house of God, in the midst of the Christian congregation, but does not realize the greatness of the blessings which attend him there. He turns his back to the Church," goes out into the world, and runs with the children of the world into the same excess of riot, in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, Revelation lings, banquetings, and abominable idolatries, 1Pe 4:4.
Paul E. Kretzmann, Popular Commentary of the Bible (1921–1924) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
unfoldingWord translationNotes 2017 · CC BY-SA 4.0 Connecting Statement:
Connecting Statement:
Jesus begins telling another parable. It is about a young man who asks his father for his part of the inheritance. (See: Parables)
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A certain man
This introduces a new character in the parable. Some languages might say "There was a man who" (See: Introduction of New and Old Participants)
give me
The son wanted his father to give it to him immediately. Languages that have a command form that means that they want it done immediately should use that form.
the portion of the wealth that falls to me
"the part of your wealth that you planned for me to receive when you die"
between them
"between his two sons"
translationWords
inherit
unfoldingWord translationNotes — © Distant Shores Media and the Door43 World Missions Community, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Source: git.door43.org/Door43/en_tn.
Tyndale Open Study Notes 2022 · CC BY-SA 4.0 15:11-32 Like the previous two parables (15:3-7, 8-10), the…
15:11-32 Like the previous two parables (15:3-7, 8-10), the parable of the lost son demonstrates God’s love for the lost and the joy he experiences when they return. It also allegorizes Jesus’ ministry. The father represents God, the younger brother represents the tax collectors and sinners to whom Jesus ministered, and the older brother represents the religious leaders.
Tyndale Open Study Notes — © Tyndale Open Resources, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Text via the HelloAO Bible API.