Jesus Today

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Well if you’re here through an invitation – especially for the first time – can I say thanks for coming. The story’s told of a little boy who was in church for the first time. And it was all so foreign that he kept having to ask Dad to explain what was going on. And at one point, he noticed this list of names up on the wall. And he turned to his Dad and whispered, ‘What’s that?’ And Dad whispered back, ‘It’s the names of people who died in the services.’ And wide-eyed, the little boy said, ‘What, the morning services or the evening services?’

Well, sadly, some peoples’ experience of church has been pretty deadly. Mine was, to begin with. Which is why it was so good to be able to throw that street party a month ago and see hundreds of new faces coming along and enjoying themselves. But take away the bouncy castles, the RAF flypast, Jumpster the dog and all the rest – and church can seem pretty unattractive to many, today.

In fact, a book came out recently with the title ‘unChristian - what a new generation really thinks about Christianity’. And the authors asked thousands of people who aren’t Christians what they thought of people who are. And again and again, they got the answer, ‘Unchristian.’ And the two big criticisms were that Christians are judgemental on the one hand and yet hypocritical on the other. So, eg, a friend of mine grew up in a church-going home, but wouldn’t call herself a Christian. And when I asked her why, she said: ‘Well, when you’ve seen a vicar judging people for sexual immorality and divorce, and then running off with someone else’s wife, it’s pretty unattractive.’

So if the church has made Christianity unattractive to you, then can I first of all apologise that we Christians haven’t done better. But then can I invite you, for the next few minutes, to look past the church, to the person of Jesus. Because Jesus and what he offers is what Christianity is really all about.

So, would you turn back to that reading we had from Luke’s Gospel (Luke 15v1-2, 11-32). And, sadly, what it shows straight away is that the church of Jesus’ day could be equally unattractive. Just look at the beginning of that reading:

Now the tax collectors and “sinners” were all gathering around to hear him [that is, Jesus]. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” (vv1-2)

So the tax collectors and sinners are the irreligious people, who’d never darken the doors of a church (except possibly for their own funeral). And the Pharisees and teachers of the law are the religious people, the church. And they’re horrified by the way Jesus welcomes these people – when in their opinion he should judge them and have nothing to do with them. But Jesus doesn’t do that. And in fact these people who know they’ve done things badly wrong are actually attracted to Jesus.

Let me just pull into a lay-by and quickly say what Christians believe about Jesus. We don’t believe he was just a good man or moral teacher, but that he was God’s Son come into our world in human form. That’s what he claimed to be. And his life and miracles and above all his resurrection from the dead back up that claim. Now I realise that begs loads of questions – like, ‘How do you know Jesus even existed – let alone that what’s in the Bible is trustworthy and true? And I’ll suggest a few things at the end on the ‘Is it true?’ question.

But tonight I want to look at this bit of Luke’s Gospel, which answers the ‘What does Jesus offer?’ question – because I guess it’s unlikely that someone would pursue the ‘Is it true?’ question unless they thought there was something worth having, if it was. And what Jesus offers is acceptance with God, based on forgiveness, whoever you are and whatever you’ve done. Sadly, much of the church of Jesus’ day was giving the opposite message – that God will only accept you if you’re good enough. So Jesus told this parable in Luke 15v11-32 to set the message straight. It’s about a Father and two sons. The Father stands for God. And the two sons stand for two kinds of people – both with the wrong picture of God, and both needing to get the real picture, so that they can start relating to God properly again. And Jesus’ parables are like mirrors, and as we look at this one, he’s asking each of us, ‘Where do you see yourself?’

Firstly, ARE YOU THE YOUNGER SON TYPE? (vv11-24)

Look down at Luke chapter 15 and verse 11:

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. (vv11-12)

So the younger son says to himself, ‘I want to enjoy life and I can’t do that with my father around, making demands on me.’ So he asks for his inheritance.

A few years back, my brother and I were visiting my parents, and Dad showed us where all his financial files are so that it’s not difficult to sort things out when he’s gone. Now that’s not the most comfortable of conversations. But it would have made it far more uncomfortable if either of us had said, ‘Dad, can’t we just treat you as dead and have it all now – so we can get on and enjoy it without you being in the way?’ That’s the offensiveness of what the younger son is doing here.

And he stands for the person who pictures God as the Great Kill Joy. He’s the person who says, ‘I want to enjoy life and therefore I don’t want God telling me how to live; I want to run my life my own way.’ And what Jesus is doing here is holding up the mirror to those tax collectors and sinners – the irreligious people we met back in v1 – so they can see themselves in the younger son. And maybe you can, too. Well, read on, verse 13:

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. (vv13-16)

Now when people live without reference to God, they don’t always end up in a mess like that. Some do – and God uses that to prod them to think again about him. But plenty of people have said to me, ‘I have no faith, but life’s going fine – so I just don’t see any need for God.’ And the irony of that is that it’s precisely because God is being good to them that life is going fine and that they experience the illusion of not needing him. But as C.S. Lewis put it,

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but he shouts in our pain. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world. (The Problem of Pain)

I.e., it’s the bad times that prod us to think again about God. Whereas the good times just make us more confident that we can manage without him. So onto verse 17:

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ So he got up and went to his father. (vv17-20)

So his first mistake is that he thinks of his father as the great kill joy. And then his second mistake, having done things badly wrong, is to think that it’s impossible that his father would ever accept him back as before. But that’s exactly what happens. Read on, verse 20:

So he got up and went to his father. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. (v20)

So Jesus says, ‘His father saw him.’ How come? Because every day he’d sat on the veranda watching and hoping for that familiar figure to come back up the drive. Every day it was his younger son’s handwriting he looked for in the post, his younger son’s voice he listened for on the answer machine. Because he’d never stopped loving him and wanting him back. And Jesus is saying, ‘That’s what God, my Father, is really like.’

And he says, ‘His father… was filled with compassion for him.’ I.e., more concerned to love him back into shape than judge him for the past. And Jesus is saying, ‘That’s what God, my Father, is really like.’

And Jesus says, ‘His father… ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.’ But in those days, senior men never ran. It was beneath them; it was humiliating. The equivalent for us would be the Queen running in public – can you imagine her legging it along the platform when the royal train has pulled out too soon, shouting, ‘Wait for one!’? But this father, in front of all the neighbours who knew just how badly this son had treated him, swallowed all pride, and ran out to accept him back. Utterly humiliating. And the most costly thing he’d ever done.

Because forgiveness does cost, doesn’t it? And it cost God. If you read to the end of Luke’s Gospel you find that it cost God his Son, as he died on the cross to take the judgement we deserve for pushing God out of our lives, so that we could be forgiven. And this bit of the parable – where the father runs out to meet the younger son – is where Jesus paints himself into the picture. Because it’s this bit that stands for the way that God came out to meet us, by sending his Son into the world to pay for our forgiveness on the cross.

So the younger son comes thinking it’s impossible that his father would ever accept him back as before, as if he’d never done anything wrong. But that’s exactly what happens – through one, almighty act of forgiveness. And Jesus is saying, ‘That’s what God, my Father, is really like.’ So read on, verse 21:

“The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' “But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate. (vv21-24)

So if you see yourself in the younger son, there are two things wrong with your picture of God. One is thinking he’s the Great Kill Joy. Whereas you don’t get that impression from the party lavished on the younger son. You get the impression that God wants us to enjoy life, and that far from him being a threat to that, having God back in his rightful place in our lives is the key to that. That’s certainly my experience; you can ask any Christians you know what they’d say. But if you’re the younger son type, the other thing probably wrong with your picture of God is thinking he couldn’t possibly accept you after the way you’ve lived – the way you’ve pushed him out of the picture, maybe for many years, now. But the answer to that is that Jesus died to forgive everything you’ve ever done. Which is why I said earlier that what he offers is acceptance with God, based on forgiveness, whoever you are and whatever you’ve done.

Now it’s been said that that there are only two characters in the parable not pleased to see the younger son back. One is the fattened calf. And the other is his older brother. So let’s have a look at him and ask the question,

Second, ARE YOU THE OLDER SON TYPE? (vv25-32)

Look down to verse 25:

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.' “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. [So for the second time, the father humbles himself to reach out to one of his sons.] But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. [So there’s hypocrisy – claiming never to have disobeyed, when in fact he must have done.] Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home [there’s judgementalism], you kill the fattened calf for him!' (vv25-30)

And what gives the game away about how the older son thinks of his father is where he says, ‘All these years I've been slaving for you…’ Which shows that he resents his father every bit as much as the younger son did – he just never had the guts to walk out. He never left home, but in his heart he’s as much out of relationship with his father as the younger son was.

And he stands for the religious person, who pictures God as the Great Slave-Driver. He’s the person who thinks that relationship with God is based on merit rather than forgiveness, and that God will only accept you if you work very hard to be good enough. And what Jesus is doing here is holding up the mirror to those Pharisees and teachers of the law – the religious people we met back in v2 – so they can see themselves in the older son: people who are religious, but actually still out of relationship with God. And maybe that’s you.

That was certainly Martin Luther, the famous Christian reformer, early in his life. One day as a young man, he was caught in a storm not unlike the one two Thursdays ago and he was struck, but not killed, by lightning. And superstitiously, he felt it must be God’s way of telling him that he wasn’t trying hard enough. So he promised there and then to become a monk. And he did. He joined a monastery. And he spent years (so he thought at the time) trying to merit God’s acceptance. E.g., there were seven official periods of prayer in his monastery – the first one at a leisurely 2am – but Luther did more, to be on the safe side. He fasted, often for up to three days. And he refused blankets on the basis that God would be more impressed by self-denial (can you imagine that in Germany in midwinter?). And much later, after he’d discovered that real Christianity isn’t all about that kind of stuff, but all about Jesus, he wrote this:

I was a good monk and I kept the rule of my order so strictly that I may say that if ever a monk could get to heaven by his monkery, I would have been him. All my brothers at the monastery who knew me will bear me out. If I had kept on any longer, I should have killed myself with vigils, prayers, reading and other work. (Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther, Roland Bainton)

But then he adds:

Sometimes I was proud and would say, ‘I have done nothing wrong today.’ But then I would ask, ‘But have you done enough?’(Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther, Roland Bainton)

And that’s the question that haunts every religious person – i.e., everyone who thinks you can merit God’s acceptance: ‘Have I done enough?’ And maybe that’s you – thinking that being a Christian is about living on the treadmill of trying hard to be good enough for God. Maybe that’s you right now – and it’s a guilt-trip you’d sometimes rather walk away from. Or maybe that was you, and you did walk away – but you’re back in church wondering whether you really got the right message first time round. Or maybe that’s how you see it, looking in from the outside, and it’s pretty unattractive.

Well, if you’re any of those, Jesus is saying, ‘You’ve got totally the wrong picture of my Father.’ If you’re an older son type, then just like the younger son types, you need to realise that what Jesus offers is acceptance with God, based on forgiveness, whoever you are and whatever you’ve done. So you need to stop trying to earn God’s love, and start trusting that he loves people as they are, by forgiving and accepting them through what Jesus did on the cross.

I said at the start that I wanted to invite you to look past the church, to the person of Jesus. Because if you’ve been invited along by someone, it’s not because they’d like you to get interested in church – in a Sunday habit in a Victorian barn like this. It’s because they’d love you to get interested in Jesus. Because that’s where they’ve found not a religion, but a relationship with God – the God who really is like the father in this parable – offering a new start in a relationship with him, based on forgiveness, whoever you are, and whatever you’ve done.

If you’d like to know more about that offer and how to respond, can I encourage you to pick up a copy of this booklet, ‘Why Jesus?’ from the Welcome Desk. And I said earlier that I’d also suggest a few things if you’re still asking the ‘Is it true?’ question.

• One is: to help yourself to a copy of Mark’s Gospel from the Welcome Desk and give it a read. Because it surprises me how often people say, ‘I just don’t think it’s true,’ but then admit they’ve never actually read one of the eye-witness accounts to see if it rings true.
• Another suggestion is to help yourself to a copy of this booklet which I put together, called Why Trust Them? When it first appeared, one woman in our church said, tongue in cheek, ‘I see you’ve written something about men’! But in fact it’s subtitled: ‘The four Gospels: who wrote, when and can we trust them?’
• And the last suggestion is to join our next Christianity Explored course – which is a short course designed for people just giving this all a first or second look. And you can find out about that at the Welcome Desk – or do ask any of us on the staff.