“Bad Boys of the Bible: the Elder Brother”
Luke 15:25-28
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
Author and psychologist Kevin Leman, writes in his book, The Birth Order Book: Why You are the Way You Are, “The one thing you can bet your paycheck on is the firstborn and second-born in any given family are going to be different.” Meri Wallace, a child and family therapist for over twenty years, and author of Birth Order Blues, agrees. She writes, “Some of it has to do with the way the parent relates to the child in his spot, and some of it happens because of the spot itself.” And she writes, “Each spot has its unique challenges.”
If you’ve had more than one child, you know what I mean. For most parents, a firstborn child is a sort of experiment, a mixture of instinct and trial-and-error. Then, when the second child comes along, now that you’re a little “broken in,” things are a little different. Child number one becomes more of a perfectionist and child number two becomes more of a people-pleaser, trying to get mom and dad’s attention. It’s not so much that each child is different. It’s simply that each child is treated differently.
Researchers say that, if you’re a firstborn, you’re more likely to be reliable, conscientious, structured, cautious, controlling and an achiever. Firstborns bask in their parents’ presence, which is why they sometimes act like mini-adults. They’re diligent and want to be the best at everything they do.
Then there’s the youngest, the “last born.” Since mom and dad have, by this time, become a bit more “laid back,” that child becomes more “free-spirited.” They’re described as being fun-loving, uncomplicated, outgoing, attention-seeking and self-centered. They have a “pie-in-the-sky,” “everything will work out fine” kind of attitude. One woman, a last born, said she loves to be spontaneous. She once moved from Toronto to Germany to work, and she didn’t even speak the language.
But no matter who you are—first born, last born or somewhere in between, you’re unique and special in your own way.
In the book of Luke chapter 15, Jesus told a story about two sons, two brothers, and their amazing, forgiving father. This is what He said, “There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.”
We know, all too well, what happened next. The parable of the prodigal son is, after all, the most popular and the best-known of all of Jesus’ parables.
And as the story goes, just as soon as that son got all that money into his greedy little hands, he went on a journey to a country far away. And, in no time at all, he spent everything he had on, what Jesus called, “reckless living.” Wine, women, and song. Every day, he lived in luxury. Every night, he partied large and in charge, long after the sun went down. And even though so much money was once stuffed in his pockets, literally thousands of dollars, in a few short months, it was gone. And he was broke, flat broke, dead broke, with nothing but a shirt on his back and tears on his sleeve. He had nowhere to turn and no place to go.
Finally, he got himself a job feeding pigs. He was so desperate, Jesus said, he wanted to eat what the pigs were eating. It was as low as anyone could go.
Finally, when he came to his senses, he began that long journey home. And, wonder of wonders, whom should he see running towards him, an act of grace far beyond his wildest dreams, it was his father who came to welcome him home.
And as he embraced him and kissed him, he said to his servants, “Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let’s feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”
And faster than you can say, “What wonder!” “What grace!” the celebration had begun.
There was just one problem—the elder brother. Jesus said, “Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing.” The pipers were piping, the strummers were strumming, the drummers were drumming. Everyone was having a really good time.
And as he heard all that music and all that dancing, (it was, after all, quite a party!), with sweat dripping from his face, his back and his hands, chaff stuck to his gray woolen tunic, he couldn’t help but wonder, “What’s that noise? Sounds like a party! Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
As you can imagine, he felt a little put out. After all, he was the older son, the conscientious son, the responsible son, the good son. If anyone should know what’s going on, it most certainly should be him.
He did all the right things. He was obedient, dutiful, law-abiding, faithful, hardworking, respectable. A model son.
But suddenly, when he realized what was happening, that his father had welcomed his worthless, “waste of time,” prodigal son back home, something began to churn inside his dutiful, respectable, obedient little heart. And in that moment, he was no longer the cool, quiet, respectable son. All of a sudden, he became what he really was all along—the son with a resentful, proud, unkind, selfish, bitter heart.
Who ever would have thought! Everyone knew that the younger son had gone to a far country, had wasted everything, was lost and then was found. But who could have thought that, down deep inside, the elder brother was just as lost as the prodigal son?
And when the father saw him standing outside, stewing, stammering, madder than a whole flock of wet hens, he went out to him too, just like he did the prodigal son. Then he begged him, he entreated him, he pleaded with him, to come and join the feast.
And what did his son say? He didn’t even call him, “Father.” Even “Hey, Dad” would have been nice. Instead, he crossed his arms and stamped his feet. Then he burst out and said, “You look here, old man! All these years I’ve worked hard and I’ve never disobeyed you! I’ve never dishonored you! I’ve been a model son. I stayed. I worked. I earned. I deserved.
“And now, when this lousy ingrate, this brat, this disrespectful, self-centered, sorry excuse for a son, that’s thrown away your money on prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf. And me? What do I get? Not so much as a pathetic, miserable, old goat.”
How sad! He didn’t care one bit about his father or about his own brother. Even more, he had a responsibility at that feast to greet, to welcome, to serve. He was, after all, the model son.
Take a close look at Luke chapter 15, and you’ll see that absolutely everyone in the chapter was happy, except him. The shepherd who found his sheep was happy and so was the woman who found her coin. The forgiving father was happy and so was his prodigal son. The dancers who were dancing, the pipers who were piping, even the servants who were serving were all having a really good time. The only one who wasn’t happy was the elder brother.
And, sometimes, neither are we. With a huff and a puff, we say, “God, I’m good. I’ve worked hard. I’ve lived right. I haven’t sinned, much, or if I have, I haven’t really hurt anyone. So, if it’s all the same to You, it’s about time You give me what I’ve got coming.”
You can come to church every Sunday, you can serve on a church board and even sing in the choir. You can look as pious as pious can be. But if your heart isn’t right with God, then you’re no better than the lost sheep, the lost coin, the elder brother or the prodigal son.
As one author put it, “Being in a church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than sleeping in a garage makes you a car, neither does climbing a tree make you a squirrel.” It’s what’s in the heart that counts.
Isn’t that what Jesus said? One day, a lawyer came to test Him with a question. He said, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” And He answered him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself.”
Have you ever noticed that Jesus didn’t tell us how the story ends? The father said, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”
So how did it end?
I know how it should have ended. It should have read, “And the elder son fell on his face before his father, saying, ‘I am so sorry, dear father. Please forgive me while I go and make amends with my brother.’”
Then it should say, “Then the father hugged him and kissed him. Then they, together, with all the village, went in to the feast.”
But we know better. We know how the story really ended. Just as soon as the elder brother—the chief priests, the scribes and the Pharisees--had their chance, they mocked Jesus, then they condemned Him and crucified Him. And as He breathed His last breath, and a soldier came to pierce His side, men wrapped Him and laid Him in a cold, stone tomb.
Jesus is the One, the only One, who lived, who acted and who obeyed, a truly model Son. And He’s the One who invites us all to join in the banquet, who prepares a feast for us at His table, who washes our feet.
No matter who you are, no matter what you’ve done--prodigals and elder brothers alike—He runs to us, embraces us, forgives us and welcomes us home, our true home, to a kingdom, a celebration, that will never end.
By God’s grace, and only by God’s grace, come and join the feast.
We thank You, dear Jesus, for this story of a forgiving father and his two sons. Help us to be the sons You’ve called us to be, and grant that, by Your grace, we too may join the feast. This we ask in Your name. Amen