What does “Home” look like to you? I’m not talking necessarily about your house or apartment. I’m wondering what you think of as “home.” For my grandmother, even though she had moved to St. Louis Park, “home was always her corner of Lakes Coulee in Wisconsin, “God’s Country.” I never had the heart to tell her that the phrase she loved to say came from a beer commercial.
Home is that place where you feel like you belong – no matter what.
Former Poet Laureate Maya Angelou tells a story of leaving her mother’s house – at age 17, unmarried with a baby. Her mother had a 14 room house with live-in help. Her mother said to her, “Your leaving my house?” Maya said yes, she had found a job and a house with cooking privileges and a landlady who would be her babysitter. Again, her mother said, “Your leaving my house?” Again, Maya said, “Yes, Ma’am.” And her mother replied, All right… “When you step over my doorsill, you’ve been raised…..you know the difference between right and wrong. Do right.” And then she added, “Remember this… you can always come home.”
And she did. Maya said, I went home every time life slammed me down and made me call it uncle. I went home with my baby… and my mother never once said “I told you.” Instead, Maya’s mother would cook for her, listen to her and care for her baby whenever she came home. I’m sure there were reasons Maya did not want to live with her mother – she doesn’t mention those --but she always knew that she could go home. She always knew that there was always a place for her and her son and that she belonged. That’s what love is. That’s what it means to offer grace.
Grace is a matter of the heart. It is never earned or deserved. Grace is what breaks through barriers. Grace brings peace, wholeness, and nurtures relationships. Grace builds up the other. Grace is a gift we all want to receive… but it is sometimes hard to give.
Our Gospel story is sometimes called the prodigal son. Prodigal means recklessly and extravagantly wasteful. That certainly describes the younger son. He had demanded his inheritance – early and then spent it all. He had nothing left. How could he go home? By demanding his inheritance from his father, he had effectively said to his father, “I wish you were dead.” It was only when he was at the end of his rope, that he finally “came to himself” and realized what a fool he had been, and what hurt and harm that he had caused. So, it wasn’t an easy thing to go home. But he composed his story and headed towards home – even though he wasn’t sure he would even be welcomed as a slave or servant.
There are times when, I dare say, all of us, have done things or said things that we regret, relationships that have soured. There have been certainly been times in which I’ve been reckless, prodigal, with my words and actions and wish I could take them back. Perhaps there are things you would do differently if you had a chance. Perhaps there are times in which you felt on the outside and longed for welcome, for home. I know this is true for me.
But this is not the end of the story. One of my favorite parts of this story is that when the father sees his wayward son, he is filled with compassion– while the son is still far off. And what I love about this is that it means that his father has been looking for him – watching… hoping against hope that his son would come home. For the son this means he doesn’t get to sneak up the road. His father has been on the lookout, watching, hoping against hope that maybe today… he would return. So, when the father sees his son, he runs to him. In those days, men especially those who were respected landowners did not run. They did not jog. To even show your ankles was considered a disgrace. And yet… the father runs to his son and welcomes him with open arms and calls for gifts to honor him and throws a party. That is grace. It is undeserved. It is forgiveness. It is sheer mercy. It is unconditional. It is surprising. It is “prodigal” – because it is both reckless and extravagant. But it is not wasteful. It is love.
This is how God acts towards each one of us. God is like that father and waiting for you and welcoming you home – not because you or I deserve it. But because God loves you so much – and because there is nothing that you can do or say that will keep God from loving you, unconditionally forgiving you and surprising you with extravagant mercy. Like the father, God wants a relationship with you.
The father in the story also wants a relationship with his oldest son. The father leaves the party to beckon his oldest son in, wanting him to be full of joy too. But the older brother has got a problem. When he hears that his brother is not only welcomed back but a big party has been thrown for him, he is indignant. It’s not fair – after everything that his brother did? How dare he come home?
While I dare say that we all acknowledge our own need for grace, it’s hard not to be like the older brother. Like him, we are used to comparing ourselves, judging ourselves against one another. We set up standards for ourselves – and others. True grace goes against our instincts.
Philip Yancy calls the inability to receive or to give grace, “ungrace.” Our willingness to sit in judgement and hold everyone to our own standards and values makes us feel strong and righteous. But, regardless of the issue – and there are many that can divide us – ungrace has the power to isolate and alienate us from leaders, co-workers, neighbors and even members of our own family. As we watch anxiously the ongoing war in Ukraine and the rise of authoritarian regimes elsewhere in the world, the world is in deep need of grace. And this is what we have to offer one another. Simple, ordinary grace.
For in the end, the biggest surprise about grace is that, when we give grace to others, our eyes are opened and we see even more clearly the grace that God has given and keeps giving to us. This grace is prodigal, extravagant, unconditional, and given just because God loves you. God proclaims to you, “You belong. You are home in my house, in my world, and I am with you. Always.” Thanks be to God! Amen.