What If the Prodigal Son Were You : the Older Brother?

Introduction

When you hear "the parable of the prodigal son," your eyes go straight to the younger brother: the son who blows his inheritance, ends up in a pigsty, and whom the father embraces in tears. It's dramatic, reassuring, and true. But that's not Jesus's main point in Luke 15. He tells this story to the Pharisees, not to the tax collectors. And his message, if you let it touch you in the right place, is this: in this parable, there isn't one lost son, there are two. And the more lost of the two may well be the one who never left. This message, preached at Église du Tabernacle in the series "The Parables of Jesus, Living the Kingdom," pushes you to look in the mirror before rejoicing over the Father's welcome.

Sermon Outline

1. What if it wasn't just about him? (Luke 15:1-2, 11-32)

• The title "prodigal son" isn't in the Bible. Jesus never gave his parables titles. "Prodigal" means "one who wastes recklessly," and the title appeared early in Christian tradition, popularized from the 12th century onward. The result: when you open the text, your gaze is already steered toward the younger brother.
• The context of chapter 15 changes everything. Luke notes (v. 1-2) that tax collectors and notorious sinners (prostitutes, drunkards, despised people), were crowding around Jesus, and that the Pharisees were indignant that he ate at their table. In the ancient Near East, eating with someone was a sign of acceptance. Jesus responds to this indignation with three parables: the lost sheep, the lost coin, and finally that of the two sons.
• This parable, then, isn't primarily aimed at the rebellious sinner who doubts God's love, even though yes, it does say that too: "there is nothing you have done that cannot be forgiven." It is primarily aimed at the Pharisees, at those who obey, who know the law, and who judge Jesus.
• That's why many commentators, following Tim Keller (The Prodigal God, a 120-page book well worth reading), prefer to call it the parable of the two sons. Because in this story, both are lost. Each in his own way.
• The younger son is obviously lost: in a 1st-century patriarchal society, demanding your share of the inheritance amounts to telling your father "you'd be better off dead." He sells everything, leaves, squanders it on prostitutes (we only learn this at the end, from the older brother's mouth), brings shame on the family. And yet: the father runs to meet him, takes him in his arms, cuts off his prepared speech, and throws a feast.
• The older son is lost in a subtler way. He doesn't even cross the threshold of the house when his brother returns. He erupts: "Look! All these years I've been serving you and I never once disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends." He obeys (to be paid. He serves), to receive. He doesn't love his father, he uses him. And the story deliberately ends there, left open: will he go in to the feast, or stay outside? Jesus leaves the question hanging before the Pharisees.
• As the film Dead Poets Society shows in its own way: two characters take opposite paths (one breaks free of a rigid culture, the other conforms), and yet they're seeking the same thing, their own personal satisfaction. The two sons of Luke 15 do the same. The younger one goes off seeking his happiness far away; the older one thinks he'll get it by keeping the rules. Neither submits to his father out of love. Both use him.

2. The three signs of an older-brother heart

• How you look at others. The Pharisees are indignant that Jesus eats with people of bad reputation. A question to ask yourself honestly: if people struggling with addiction, ex-convicts, or prostitutes walked through the doors of your church today, what would your first reaction be? The preacher shares: this summer, in another church, someone "very different" sat down in front of him during worship. His first inner reaction was "oh no, I'm uncomfortable", instead of rejoicing that someone like that could hear the word of God. That's an older-brother heart: distrusting or criticizing someone simply because they live out their faith differently or have a difficult past.
• How you obey. You can take part in church activities, give your time, be blameless, and yet have a heart far from God. The question isn't what you do, it's why you do it. If you obey to be respected, to gain God's favor, to feel superior, or because he "owes" you something in return, the outside can be perfect while the inside is that of the older brother. Beware of teachings that promise "come to Jesus and you'll get the money, the healing, the spouse", because then you're not coming to Jesus, you're coming to yourself and using him. When the offering basket passes and you give while "declaring in Jesus's name" that you'll receive a hundredfold back, that's an older-brother heart.
• Your joy toward others. The older son doesn't rejoice at his brother's return. Why? Jealousy, bitterness, resentment. "I've prayed so much, fasted so much, obeyed so much, and it's my coworker who doesn't even believe in you who gets the promotion." "I served the church so faithfully, and it's someone else the leader chose to encourage." It boils inside. If you can't rejoice when someone far from God comes to him, or if you rejoice more that they "hold to sound doctrine" than that they're saved, ask yourself: what does that say about my heart?
• The collateral fruit. The tax collectors and notorious sinners didn't draw near to the Pharisees. They drew near to Jesus. Why? Because the Pharisees' attitude was a wall. Today, many people walk away from faith not because they reject the Father, but because they've seen that religion is often full of older brothers, people who criticize, judge, and impose their rules, without love or joy in the house. A child who grows up in an environment where they're told "don't dress like that, don't do your hair like that" without ever seeing a passion for Jesus Christ will sooner or later go looking for happiness elsewhere. It happens in every church.

3. Hear the Father's invitation

• The most incredible thing in this parable isn't the sons' fault. It's the Father's reaction. Toward the younger son: he runs, he embraces him at length, he cuts off the prepared speech, he puts the ring back on his finger, he throws a feast. In the 1st century, a dignified father did not run, he had to lift his long robe to rush forward, and that was deeply humiliating.
• But toward the older son too, the Father makes an astonishing move. He leaves the house to come and plead with him to enter. That is just as humiliating as running. A father leaving his own party to beg his son to come in (that simply wasn't done at the time. And yet, he does it. The Father humbles himself twice), once for each son.
• Is that how you picture God? Or do you picture him with a whip on his throne, like a tyrant imposing his will? John 1 says: "No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made him known." Jesus reveals the Father's heart to us: a God who looks at you with enough love to humble himself for you.
• This parable prepares the way for the cross. What kept us from coming home was our wrongdoing, the barrier of sin. Jesus humbled himself, carried our sins on himself, broke down the barrier so you could come home. For anyone who has lived abroad, you know that feeling: "I'm going home." That's exactly it, we are going home to the one who created us.
• Two closing words. To older brothers: don't let your rigidity, your joyless obedience, and your frustrations wound those whom God loves. It's not enough to keep the rules or believe the right things. You must rediscover joy in the Father's presence and reflect the love and grace he shows us. To younger brothers, and that can include sisters, at any age: don't let a bad human witness drive you away from the Father's house. The Father is not at fault. Don't deprive yourself of God's goodness because of brothers who reacted badly. God remains faithful. God remains full of love. Look to the Father, not to his imperfect children.
• A theology professor once said: "The barrier between the Pharisees and God wasn't their sins, it was their blasted good works." Don't let your blasted good works pull you away from God. Learn to delight in your Father who loves you. The younger brother accepted the invitation. The older brother still has to decide.

Key Takeaways

• In Luke 15:11-32, there isn't one lost son, there are two. The title "prodigal son" comes from tradition, not from the text, it focuses your gaze on the younger son alone and makes you miss half the message.
• Jesus tells this parable to the Pharisees, not to the tax collectors. It's first a mirror held up to those who obey and judge, not just a balm for those returning from far away.
• You can drift from God by disobeying, but also by keeping his laws, when obedience becomes a way to manipulate God or to feel superior.
• Three signs of an older-brother heart: how you view others, your motive for obeying, and your joy (or lack of it) when someone else is blessed.
• The Father runs to the younger son and goes out to the older son. Both gestures were humiliating in 1st-century culture. God humbles himself twice, once for each kind of lost son.
• Many walk away from faith not because God let them down, but because older brothers made them believe the Father's house was joyless. A joyless older brother discourages a younger brother in the making.
• The cross of Jesus is what breaks down the barrier, for the younger son and for the older one. Your good works don't save you any more than your sin permanently condemns you.

Personal Application

1. As you read this parable, which son do you most instinctively identify with, the younger or the older? And if you're honest, which one are you most at risk of being without realizing it?
2. Look at how you view others this week: is there someone (at church, at work, in your family) you judge because they live their faith differently or have a difficult past?
3. Why do you obey God? Is it to be respected, to feel like you're in good standing, so that he'll owe you something? Or do you truly delight in him?
4. When did you last genuinely feel joy because someone far from God took a step toward him? Or do you instead feel resentment when others receive what you wanted?
5. If you're a "younger brother" wounded by "older brother" type Christians, are you letting their poor witness drive you away from the Father, when the Father himself is still always running toward you?

Scripture References

• Luke 15:11-32 · The Parable of the Two Sons
• Luke 15:1-10 · The context: the lost sheep, the lost coin, the Pharisees' indignation
• John 1:18 · "No one has ever seen God; the Son has made him known"

Frequently Asked Questions

Why call this parable "the parable of the two sons" rather than "the prodigal son"?

Because the title "prodigal son" appears nowhere in the biblical text, it comes from Christian tradition, popularized from the 12th century onward in the Middle Ages. It focuses our gaze on the younger son alone, while Jesus is telling the story of two lost sons, each in his own way. The younger is lost through visible rebellion, the older through a cold obedience that uses the Father to get what he wants. Many commentators, following Tim Keller (The Prodigal God), prefer the title "parable of the two sons" so as not to miss half the message.

What are the three signs of an older-brother heart?

One: how we look at others, distrusting or looking down on those who live out their faith differently, or who have a difficult past. Two: how we obey, doing everything right to be respected or so that God owes us something in return, rather than out of love for him. Three: our joy toward others, jealousy, bitterness, resentment when someone else receives what we wanted, or the inability to rejoice that a person far from God is coming to him.

The father runs to the younger son, but what does he do for the older one?

What catches the eye is the father running, embracing, and showering the returning son with gifts. But his love for the older son is just as great, only more discreet: in the 1st century, a father leaving his house to plead with his son to come in to the feast was just as humiliating as lifting his long robe to run toward the other one. The father does the same thing twice: he humbles himself for both his sons. And that is exactly what God did in Jesus Christ, he humbled himself so that everyone could come home.