On non-prodigals and busy women
My handwriting is so bad any more that the blog method might be much better for journaling. Since I doubt seriously anyone will ever read this, I feel secure in my privacy. In studying for my Bible class (read Sunday School) lesson, I read Luke 10, the end of it, and turned over to Luke 15. Martha and the older son are the brunt of a lot of unfair and I would say bad preaching. We do not have to denigrate the responsible to glorify God's grace. When Jesus spoke to Martha, it was with all kindness. None of this "You wicked woman, get your priorities straight and your heart right," stuff we hear in sermons trying to get the audience to have their daily devotions. That misses the whole point of the context. Martha was doing what was expected, and Mary was not. She is not condemned for that. She is just gently encouraged not to be troubled about the temporal, and to realize that the kingdom of God that Jesus is bringing may just turn some typical expectations on their heads.
The same happens with the older son in the prodigal (which I always hasten to mention means wasteful, not wayward) son. This is another story that turns the expected order on its head. But even though the older son represents the Pharisees, good Jews, and even though the older son's words are pretty petulant, to say the least, the words of the father are gentle. "Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found."
We can glorify grace and the love of the Heavenly Father without making the older son such a blackguard. He has done nothing wrong, and it does no good to act like he had some dark ulterior motive in staying faithful. He almost gets turned into some villain, or at best a whiny loser. He has seen how the younger son broke his father's heart; he has lived with the tears, the worries. I have always thought they were half-brothers, with different mothers ("this son of yours.") I identify with the older son far more than I ever will with the younger, but that doesn't mean I reject or fail to understand grace. We all experience grace differently, I think.
I'm working on a longer essay on this subject, because the younger sons, for all their repentance, have massive baggage they bring with them.
I say this because I've been in a position (driving late at night) to heard John MacArthur preaching on Luke 15, and while I consider him an excellent preacher, he has gone a little overboard in condemning the older son, like a lot of preachers. Many of the Pharisees crucified Christ, but many of them came to Him as well. Being a moral person who towed the line and lived responsibly doesn't preclude one from grace; in fact, that person might be more conscious of right and wrong and more open to conviction. Of course, he or she could also be incredibly self-righteous. We never hear the rest of the prodigal son story, and that's why it's such great literature. We get to mull over it and figure it out for ourselves.
Preachers--and I've heard thousands of them--say a lot of garbage in the quest to be interesting and get people down the aisle. Mine does not, I can say, thankfully, but many do. They overstate the case by a mile. For example, I've heard sermons about "burning your bridges." That is the worst thing you can do, if it means cutting off relationships or ridding oneself of means of support. Only if it means repentance does it make sense. I often hear preachers trying to get me to live a way I know they don't. My pastor has a boat, so I take it with a grain of salt when he talks about making financial sacrifices.
Jesus knows we live in this world. He knows our frame. He gives us a break, although we rarely give each other one.
The same happens with the older son in the prodigal (which I always hasten to mention means wasteful, not wayward) son. This is another story that turns the expected order on its head. But even though the older son represents the Pharisees, good Jews, and even though the older son's words are pretty petulant, to say the least, the words of the father are gentle. "Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found."
We can glorify grace and the love of the Heavenly Father without making the older son such a blackguard. He has done nothing wrong, and it does no good to act like he had some dark ulterior motive in staying faithful. He almost gets turned into some villain, or at best a whiny loser. He has seen how the younger son broke his father's heart; he has lived with the tears, the worries. I have always thought they were half-brothers, with different mothers ("this son of yours.") I identify with the older son far more than I ever will with the younger, but that doesn't mean I reject or fail to understand grace. We all experience grace differently, I think.
I'm working on a longer essay on this subject, because the younger sons, for all their repentance, have massive baggage they bring with them.
I say this because I've been in a position (driving late at night) to heard John MacArthur preaching on Luke 15, and while I consider him an excellent preacher, he has gone a little overboard in condemning the older son, like a lot of preachers. Many of the Pharisees crucified Christ, but many of them came to Him as well. Being a moral person who towed the line and lived responsibly doesn't preclude one from grace; in fact, that person might be more conscious of right and wrong and more open to conviction. Of course, he or she could also be incredibly self-righteous. We never hear the rest of the prodigal son story, and that's why it's such great literature. We get to mull over it and figure it out for ourselves.
Preachers--and I've heard thousands of them--say a lot of garbage in the quest to be interesting and get people down the aisle. Mine does not, I can say, thankfully, but many do. They overstate the case by a mile. For example, I've heard sermons about "burning your bridges." That is the worst thing you can do, if it means cutting off relationships or ridding oneself of means of support. Only if it means repentance does it make sense. I often hear preachers trying to get me to live a way I know they don't. My pastor has a boat, so I take it with a grain of salt when he talks about making financial sacrifices.
Jesus knows we live in this world. He knows our frame. He gives us a break, although we rarely give each other one.
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