In Luke 15, Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son shows us what grace really looks like. The younger son demands his inheritance early, squanders it in wild living, and ends up broke, starving, and feeding pigs—until “he comes to himself” and remembers his father’s goodness. When he heads home, the father runs to meet him, embracing him before he can even finish his apology. That’s the picture of God’s love—extravagant, undeserved, and full of joy. But the older brother, who’s stayed home and done everything “right,” grows bitter when grace is shown to someone who doesn’t deserve it. The father reminds him, “This brother of yours was lost and is found,” calling him back into the same grace. Both sons are lost in their own way—one in rebellion, the other in resentment—but the father’s love reaches for them both. We’ve all been the prodigal at some point, and the good news is that the Father still runs to meet us and says, “Welcome home.”

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 back with you on this Monday morning as we continue together in our time in Luke. Today we’re still in Luke 15, looking again at that great parable — the Prodigal Son.

On Friday we talked about some of the little details in the text — the father’s compassion, the way the older brother spoke. Today, I want to go a little deeper into what the younger son went through, what the father’s love looks like, and then what’s going on with that older brother.

Let’s read it again — Luke 15:11-32 from the 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.
He 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.’”

Now, Wesley once said that the root of all sin is independency from God. That’s what you see here. This younger son basically tells his dad, “Hey, I wish you were dead so I could have my share now.” Because that’s how you got your inheritance — when your father died. That’s harsh. It’s not just disrespectful; it’s devastating.

He insults his father, his family, and even his brother — because when he takes his share and wastes it, that’s coming out of the family’s future. So the older brother’s resentment makes sense, even if he takes it too far later on.

The younger son heads off to, well, let’s just say “Vegas,” spends everything on what Scripture calls “dissolute living,” and winds up broke and starving. He’s feeding pigs — which for a Jewish boy would be unthinkable — and he’s so hungry he wants to eat what the pigs are eating. That’s how far he’s fallen.

But then verse 17 says, “He came to himself.” I love that line. That’s what repentance really is — coming to ourselves, remembering who we are and whose we are.

I’ve been reading The New Creation by Theodore Runyon — wonderful book on Wesleyan theology — and it says faith “enlivens the eyes.” In other words, faith helps us see clearly again.

And that’s what happens here. The prodigal finally sees clearly. He remembers the goodness of his father. He says, “I’ll get up and go home.”

Now — and this is so important — let’s not rush too quickly from the pigpen to the hug. We need to sit in the pigpen a moment. Because until we feel the weight of how lost we are, we’ll never understand how deep the father’s love really is.

There’s a line from Brennan Manning’s The Ragamuffin Gospel that says, “Very few of us really believe we are sinful, so very few of us really believe we are forgiven.” That’s good. Because until we realize we’re the prodigal, we won’t know how amazing grace really is.

And then there’s that older brother — he’s mad. He says, “I’ve worked like a slave for you, Father, and you’ve never even given me a goat. But this son of yours…” Hear that? This son of yours. Not my brother.

And the father flips it: “No, this brother of yours.” He’s reminding him — and us — that grace always brings the family back together.

Some scholars point out something neat here: the story never actually says the younger son spent his money on prostitutes. That’s just the older brother’s assumption. Interesting, isn’t it? Sometimes our anger fills in details that weren’t even there.

So yeah — the older brother’s moral, hardworking, responsible. But he’s also bitter. And that’s a dangerous place to be. Because sometimes, those of us who’ve been around the church awhile — if we’re not careful — we start to sound a lot like that older brother.

We forget that we’ve all been the prodigal. We forget how good grace really is.

So today, remember this: we’ve all been the prodigal, far from home, in need of grace. But the father — he still runs to us. He still embarrasses himself with love. And he still says, “Welcome home.”

Have a great rest of your day. We’ll see you in the morning.