There’s a hymn in our songbook that goes like this:
“I have one deep, supreme desire, that I may be like Jesus. To this I fervently aspire, that I may be like Jesus.”
Here’s an honest confession: I’ve been lying to myself.
There’s a part of me that wants to be like Jesus. But there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to be like the Father in Luke 15—full of mercy, eager to restore the wayward, sitting and eating with sinners.
If you can’t relate to that tension, good for you. You’ve arrived somewhere I haven’t.
But if you’re like me—if you’ve been a Christian for years and still struggle with wanting God’s gifts while resenting His input into your life—then this Luke 15 sermon might be the mirror you need.
The Parable You Think You Know
Luke 15 is familiar territory. It’s the chapter with the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. We often treat it as an evangelistic passage—and it absolutely can be used that way. The prodigal is a perfect picture of the person outside Christ who finally comes to their senses and returns to the Father.
But here’s a question worth asking: What does the Prodigal Son teach Christians today?
Can believers identify with this story? Can I see myself in the son who wandered to the far country? Can I see myself in the elder brother who stayed home and resented his sibling’s welcome?
The uncomfortable answer is yes. To both.
Setting the Scene: Two Groups, One Problem
Luke 15 opens with context that’s easy to miss:
“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.'” — Luke 15:1-2 (ESV)
Two groups. Tax collectors and sinners on one side. Pharisees and scribes on the other.
The Pharisees were upset that Jesus was sitting and eating with “those people.” They were the religious leaders, the faithful ones, the ones who showed up every week and followed the rules.
Sound familiar?
Jesus then tells three parables in response—a lost sheep, a lost coin, and two lost sons. And the punchline of the first parable should stop us in our tracks:
“Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” — Luke 15:7 (ESV)
Wait. That doesn’t seem fair.
I come to church every week. I read my Bible. I try to be a model Christian. And heaven throws a party for the person who wandered off and finally came back?
What about me? Don’t I get a party?
And there it is—the elder brother spirit, alive and well in my heart.
The Prodigal Son: A Mirror for Believers
Let’s walk through the parable of the Prodigal Son explained with application for those of us already in the family.
We Want God’s Stuff Without His Input
“And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them.” — Luke 15:12 (ESV)
Here’s what the younger son was really saying: “Dad, give me what’s mine—and then back off. I can handle it from here.”
Do we treat God that way?
We’re happy to receive His gifts—our talents, our resources, our intelligence, our place in the world. We don’t mind receiving things from Him.
But to have His input into what we do with those things? That’s against the grain. We like our independence. Being dependent on God is difficult to swallow.
As long as we stay close to God, He’s going to interfere with our lives. He’s going to want to tell us what we should be doing. And honestly? I don’t always like that.
I want to do what I want to do. I want to live without so much accountability.
That’s the prodigal spirit—and it doesn’t disappear just because we’ve accepted Christ as Savior.
Self-Indulgence Doesn’t End at Conversion
“Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living.” — Luke 15:13 (ESV)
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: Self-indulgence doesn’t go away just because we’ve trusted Christ.
I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But I have a tough time—day in, day out, hour by hour, minute by minute—living with Jesus as Lord.
If He’s Lord on my terms, that’s fine. But to actually hand over control? Not so much.
Christians can wander to the far country too. Maybe it’s not the same far country as the unbeliever, but it’s still a place of independence from God, a place where we’re calling the shots.
Severe Famine Stimulates Clear Thinking
“And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in want.” — Luke 15:14 (ESV)
Isn’t it odd that we get eager to turn to God for help when we’ve spent all and things aren’t going so great anymore?
Severe famine stimulates clear thinking.
When you end up in the hospital, when you face financial crisis, when your carefully constructed life falls apart—suddenly your brain starts working better. Your vision clears. You have a much clearer picture of who you really are and what really counts.
Hebrews talks about the chastening of God’s children. Sometimes the far country has to get bad enough before we’ll consider coming home.
We Still Think We Have to Earn Favor
“I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.'” — Luke 15:18-19 (ESV)
Notice something interesting in verse 19: “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”
That phrase “no longer” suggests that before his downfall, the son thought he was worthy of his father’s favor.
And now, even in his repentance, he’s still trying to earn it. “Make me like one of your hired servants.” Let me work my way back into your good graces.
Christian, you may have been saved for a long time. Do you still feel like you must be earning favor with God? Do you think your Bible reading and church attendance and good behavior are building up credit in some heavenly account?
That’s the prodigal mindset—even in repentance, still trying to earn what can only be received as a gift.
God Is More Gracious Than You Expect
“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” — Luke 15:20 (ESV)
The father didn’t wait for the son to arrive. He didn’t stand with arms crossed, demanding an explanation. He ran. He embraced. He kissed.
The father was far more gracious and forgiving than the son expected.
This is God’s compassion for wayward believers. When you come back to Jesus—assuming that you, like me, have gone astray along the way—do you find Him more gracious and more forgiving than you hoped?
My answer is yes. I have.
And notice: the father already had the fatted calf ready. He’d been preparing for this day. God is an optimist. He has a plan for rejoicing when His wandering children come home.
The Elder Brother: The Other Lost Son
Now we come to the part of the parable that really stings.
“Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he was angry and would not go in.” — Luke 15:25-28 (ESV)
The elder brother parable is often overlooked, but it might be the most convicting part of the whole story for long-time Christians.
Self-Righteousness in the Church
Look at the elder brother’s complaint:
“Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” — Luke 15:29-30 (ESV)
Do you hear the self-righteousness? “I have served you. I never disobeyed. I’ve been faithful. And this yahoo gets a party?”
Self-righteousness in the church is subtle. It sounds like faithfulness. It looks like dedication. But underneath, there’s resentment toward those who seem to receive grace too easily.
I go to church every week. I go to Bible study. I read my Bible. And then someone who claims to be a Christian but whose life doesn’t look like it—they repent, and suddenly there’s rejoicing?
That was too easy. They should have to earn my forgiveness.
Why Do Christians Resent Grace Given to Others?
Here’s a question for honest Christian living: Why do we resent when other believers receive the same grace we needed?
When I see a brother or sister who wandered off—who caused their own problems through their own choices—my first thought isn’t joy. It’s more like, “This isn’t going to end well for them.”
And if they repent? If the shepherd goes after them and brings them home? My thought is, “That was too easy. I’m supposed to rejoice over this wandering sheep that came back? I’ve been here the whole time.”
That’s the elder brother spirit. And it’s ugly.
The father had to come out and plead with the elder son to join the celebration. The son who stayed home was just as lost as the son who left—maybe more so, because he didn’t know it.
The Repentant Brother Must Earn My Favor
Notice the elder brother’s attitude: “Okay, Dad, you want to forgive him—that’s your business. But I’m not going to forgive him. He’s going to have to earn my favor.”
Do I resent Christian brothers and sisters for their excursions to the far country while I’m busy being a “model Christian”?
Do I make returning believers prove themselves before I’ll accept them back?
The father says, “It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:32).
Joy in heaven over repentance isn’t just for unbelievers coming to Christ. There’s rejoicing when wayward Christians repent too. When you repent of your secret sins, there’s joy in heaven.
The question is: Is there joy in my heart? Or resentment?
Christian Self-Examination: Which Son Am I?
Here’s the uncomfortable reality: Both sons are still part of who I am.
I can identify with the prodigal—the one who wants independence, who wanders to far countries of self-indulgence, who has to hit bottom before coming to his senses.
And I can identify with the elder brother—the one who works hard at being faithful, who resents easy grace, who keeps score of his own righteousness.
The only one I can’t identify with is the father.
And that’s the lie I tell myself when I sing, “I have one deep, supreme desire, that I may be like Jesus.”
Do I actually want to be like Jesus? He sits and eats with sinners. He’s full of mercy. He’s eager to restore the wayward.
Jonah knew God was like this. God sent him to Nineveh to proclaim destruction, and when the city repented, Jonah was angry. “I knew you were like this,” he said, “and I don’t like it” (see Jonah 4:2).
Am I like Jonah? Am I like the elder brother? Do I resent God’s compassion toward the undeserving?
How to Examine Yourself as a Christian
The prodigal son “came to himself” (Luke 15:17). He took an honest look at his situation and realized where he really was.
Christian, when was the last time you came to yourself? When did you last take an objective, realistic view of your own heart?
Here are some questions for Christian self-examination:
Do I want God’s gifts without His input? Am I happy to receive from Him but resistant to His lordship over how I use what He gives?
Do I have fond memories of the far country? Even as a believer, do I look back on seasons of self-indulgence with a certain wistfulness?
Do I think I need less grace than “those people”? Do I consider myself one of the ninety-nine who need no repentance?
Do I resent grace given to others? When a wandering believer comes home, is my first reaction joy or suspicion?
Am I trying to earn favor with God? Do I think my faithfulness obligates Him to treat me better than less faithful Christians?
Do I actually want to be like Jesus? Or do I prefer a little distance, a little independence, a little chip on my shoulder toward those who’ve offended me?
The Father’s Heart
Here’s the good news in all of this: The father in the parable is a perfect picture of God’s heart.
He was watching for the prodigal. He ran to meet him. He didn’t demand the son earn his way back—he gave him the best robe, the ring, the sandals, the party.
And he came out to plead with the elder son too. He didn’t write him off. He said, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (Luke 15:31).
God is pursuing both sons. He wants both at the celebration.
Repentance for Christians—whether we’ve wandered to far countries or stayed home nursing our self-righteousness—is always met with grace beyond what we expect.
The Truth We Need to Hear
Ebenezer Scrooge, when shown where his life was heading, said to the Spirit: “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not.”
That’s often my response when God shows me areas that need to change. I’d rather not.
But here’s what I know: When I get to heaven, I expect I’ll marvel at how reluctant I was to accept God’s undeserved favor for myself. And I’ll wonder why I didn’t rejoice when others received it.
There’s a day coming when we’ll be free of the pull of the far country. We’ll no longer have fond memories of our sinful selves. We’ll be in His presence and satisfied.
Until then, we examine ourselves honestly. We recognize both sons are still part of who we are. And we ask God to make us more like the Father—compassionate, forgiving, eager to welcome home the wandering.
Even when it goes against everything in us.
