In Luke 15, Jesus tells the story of the lost son—or really, the lost sons—to show us the depth of the Father’s love. The younger son rebels, squanders everything, and hits rock bottom before “coming to himself” and returning home, only to be met by a father who runs to embrace him—a shocking act of love and grace in that culture. The older brother, though outwardly obedient, reveals a hardened heart, resenting his father’s mercy and refusing to join the celebration. Both sons are lost in different ways: one through rebellion, the other through pride. Yet the father’s love reaches out to both, calling them home. That’s the heart of God—He runs toward the prodigal and gently invites the self-righteous back into joy. His grace welcomes, restores, and unites us, reminding us that the lost aren’t just God’s children—they’re our brothers and sisters too.

Shameless plug: here’s a link to Method(ist) to the Madness, our new, hopefully entertaining podcast about church history.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

Click here if you’d like to join our GroupMe and receive this each morning at 7:00 a.m. CST.

Click on the image above or this link to watch today’s video.

You can read today’s passage here.

You can podcast this reflection here. You can subscribe through Spotify or Apple Podcasts as well.

Or, if you’d like to read the transcript of the video, keep reading!

Well, good morning! It’s good to be with you on this Friday morning as we continue our time together in Luke’s Gospel.

We’re still in Luke 15—this incredible chapter full of “lost things.” We’ve looked at the lost sheep, we’ve looked at the lost coin, and today we’re going to look at the lost brother. This is the parable we usually call the Prodigal Son.

Now, when we read this story, we usually think it’s just about one lost son—the younger one who runs off and wastes everything. But if you look closely, there are two brothers here who don’t really understand the depth of the Father’s love.

So, let’s take a look. (And just for the record, I’ve got a little timer running on my computer while I record this—so depending on how much I ramble, we may have to split this into two parts. You’ve been warned!)

Luke 15:11–32 (NRSVUE)
Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them.

A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything.

But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up 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 like one of your hired hands.”’

So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. The slave replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.’

Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’

Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”

The younger son wants his inheritance now. In that culture, that’s basically saying, “Dad, I wish you were dead.” And yet, the father gives it to him. The son runs off, wastes it all, hits rock bottom, and ends up feeding pigs—which, for a Jewish audience, is about as low as it gets.

Finally, the text says “he came to himself.” I love that line. It’s like he finally wakes up to reality. He remembers his father’s goodness, rehearses his apology speech, and heads home—hoping to be treated like a hired hand.

But while he’s still a long way off, the father sees him. And here’s the detail that always gets me: the father ran to him.

Philip Yancey tells this story in one of his books—What’s So Amazing About Grace? or The Jesus I Never Knew—I can’t remember which. He says that when he read this story to a group of Middle Eastern men, they all stopped him right there and said, “Wait—the father ran?” Because in that culture, grown men don’t run. Running was undignified. It was embarrassing. Men of status didn’t do that.

And that’s the point—the father’s love is embarrassing. He doesn’t care what people think. He just wants his child back.

That’s the kind of love God has for us. A love that runs toward us even when we’ve made a mess of things. A love that doesn’t wait for us to clean ourselves up first.

The father embraces him, clothes him, restores him, and throws a party. That’s grace—pure, undeserved grace.

But then, we get the second half of the story—the older brother. And honestly, most of us church folks relate a little more to him than we’d like to admit.

He’s out in the field, doing what he’s supposed to be doing, and when he hears the music and dancing, he’s furious. He’s been faithful, hardworking, obedient—and now his screw-up little brother gets a party?

Listen to his words: “This son of yours…” You can almost hear the contempt dripping from it.

And the father gently corrects him: “This brother of yours.”

See the difference? The older brother wants to disown the prodigal. But the father pulls him back in and reminds him, “He’s not just my son—he’s your brother.”

That’s what I think Jesus wants us to hear too. It’s not just the Father’s job to love the prodigal. It’s ours.

That’s hard, isn’t it? Because prodigals are messy. They’ve made mistakes. They might not look or think or vote like we do. But if we call ourselves followers of Jesus, then loving the prodigal isn’t optional.

The truth is, most of us who’ve been in church for a while have more in common with the older brother than we’d like to admit. We don’t always want God to love “those people.” Whoever those people are for you—there they are.

But the Father reminds us: they’re not just His children—they’re our brothers and sisters.*

So, as we head into the weekend, remember this: the Father’s love is wide enough to run toward the prodigal and patient enough to plead with the older brother.

That’s grace.

We’ll dig deeper into each of these two sons on Monday, but for now—rest in that truth. You are loved by a Father who runs to meet you, and He calls you to love others the same way.

Have a great weekend, and we’ll see you back Monday.