Wanna get away? Imagine this with me, if you will. You’ve been saving up for this trip all year. In fact, you saved up money and days off work for this trip. You really need to get away. So you pack your car with the stuff you will need for a short trip. There on the passenger side are your GPS, snacks, and music for when you get tired of the silence. You know you can get to your desired destination a little faster than your GPS estimates. You are what I like to call an efficient driver. Hoping to make up some time, you take a shortcut and drive a long time in the same direction. Then you begin to notice that you are passing a sign that you saw right after lunch. Your GPS is slow to get a signal. After passing other familiar things, and then suddenly not-so-familiar things, you begin to think to yourself: “Am I lost?” You have no idea where you are. Yes, you really are lost.

Getting lost often feels like it happened suddenly, doesn’t it? Of course, getting lost is in actuality the result of making a series of decisions in the wrong direction, even if the decision is to keep going in the same direction. There suddenly is an awareness of where one is—that is, not where they want to be. The quicker one realizes it, the better. Sometimes just admitting that one is lost is the first step in the right direction. In fact, waking up to the fact that we are lost is a big part of the way to be found.

That’s what we hear in this story this morning. We hear the younger son wake up to the fact that he is lost. The younger son journeyed away from home with his share of his father’s property. The story says that he squandered his property in immoral living. He spent everything he had and he began to be in need. And then we read “and he came to himself” (v. 17). When one comes to oneself, there is an understanding or clarity about who one is and where one is. It’s like gazing in the mirror at your reflection for a long time after hundreds of mornings just glancing at your reflection. It’s like seeing yourself for the first time. After working as a hired worker, and recognizing that his father’s workers were probably eating better than he was, he says, “here I am dying of hunger” (v. 17). “Here I am dying”, he says. In other words, “I’m lost”.

There was something that made him leave in the first place. The story says he said to his father, “Give me the share of the property that will belong to me” (v. 12). “Give me” is a dangerous phrase. Those of you with children, I imagine, know this all too well. “Gimme back my blanket!” But even grown folks can get caught up in the “gimmes.” Give me my space. Give me my money. Give me my stuff. I want what I want now. That is always dangerous. Could it hurt to ask? Sometimes we approach God with the “gimmes.” We ask for God to give us stuff when God is giving us everything we need, and more all along. We ask God to give, but God does give. In fact, giving is a part of God’s very self. God gave God’s Son. And yet sometimes, for some of us, what God gives is not what we want. It’s not enough for us. It wasn’t enough for the younger son. Right then he was already lost.

But it was while the younger son was away from home that he became very aware that he was dying of hunger. In waking up to that fact, he gets up. The story says, “I will get up and go to my father.” Here we almost get a dress rehearsal, a practice run of what the son is going to say. It’s like the self-talks people say in the mirror when they want that promotion or when they are preparing to give a presentation before a large group. You get to hear the son’s mirror talk, if you will. Listen to what he says: “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” (v. 19). And he sets off, the story says, to go tell his father these words.

Let’s think about this. The son says, “I have sinned against heaven and before you.” During the season of Lent, especially on Ash Wednesday, Psalm 51 is often a part of Christian worship. In it the psalmist, who was David, many believed, says this: “Against you, you alone have I sinned” (v.4). This line is presumed to be directed toward God. Well, it is against God that the younger son has sinned. It is against God that we sin. When we think about that word against, it brings to mind opposition, what is contrary. Our sins conflict with what God’s will is, the way that God would have us go. Sin makes our way and God’s way collide.

On the other hand, the younger son says that he has sinned before his father. “Before” brings to mind images of something being in front of something, or some action being done in the presence of another. It could even be said that one’s actions go ahead or in front of another. There is a keen awareness here by the younger son that his deeds have not only collided with God’s way, but that they have been done ahead of his father. Sin will do that. It goes against God and before our neighbors, our loved ones, our elders.

Think about a street with construction ahead. Usually traffic is warned for at least a mile back, with flashing signs and bright orange signs that drivers will need to merge to get in the lane unaffected by the construction. But there are still some—who may be here this morning—who wait until the last minute to merge. They speed all the way to the front of the line and, with or without a blinker, swerve over to get in the moving lane. Sin is kind of like that. Sin causes us to ignore the signs that tell us to move over and get in the way of God. Sin causes us to disrespect others as we go where we want to go with no regard for anyone else.

So the younger son signals by setting off and going to his father. But before he can even say a word, the father sees him. And “while he was still far off,” the story says, ‘the father saw him and was filled with compassion, ran to him and put his arms around him and kissed him” (v. 20). The younger son was still far away. He hadn’t even made it to the house yet. And the father sees him far away and runs to him. The father goes to him. Can you see it? An older man running toward a young son who had gone astray? Gone away from home. Gone away from his father. Gone away from God.

And when the father gets to him, he throws his arms around him and kisses him. What a scene! I wonder if anybody was crying? My goodness, the son who squandered his inheritance, lived wildly, and thought seriously about eating what pigs ate had made his way home. And before he even gets home, his father sees him and embraces him like he has just won an award, like he is the best child in the world. What wondrous love is this?

A generous member of the congregation gave the staff calendars that are organized by the Christian liturgical year. I have really been inspired by this Lenten season’s image. I stare at it every day. It is a photograph of a ceramic sculpture by Charles McCollough of an embrace between a larger and smaller figure. The larger figure looks like a man and has his arms are wrapped around the smaller figure. We cannot see the smaller figure’s face. In fact, the smaller figure’s face is turned away. But we can see the larger figure’s face. And he looks like he is smiling, smiling like someone smiles at you when you have a light-bulb moment, or smiling like someone who smiles at you when your eyes meet in an airport after your plane lands. The larger figure looks as if he could weep at any moment, if he hasn’t already.

The more I looked at the photograph, the more I thought about how the younger son could deny the embrace of the father. Sometimes we can deny the embrace of God. The smaller figure’s face is turned away. His arms are held up to his chest. This could just be that type of hug that someone gives you where they enfold you in their arms before you can even stretch out your arms. But I also thought, what if the smaller figure was pulling away? Have you ever pulled away from God?

It’s amazing what happens when we admit that we are lost and when we make a decision to go back in the right direction. When we wake up to the fact that we are lost and ask for help, we can be found. Our signal to get back in the right lane, to get on the right road, is all it takes. God can do something with that. In fact, this story shows us that our meager efforts to head back in the right direction, instead of against God and ahead of others, is enough for God to find us. And God can get to us. Even while we are still far away, when we acknowledge that we are lost and when we change the way we are going, by making our way back, God can see us. When we meet, what a glorious sight—to be embraced by the father and treated like we had never left, even like we deserve something special. What a God we serve!

And what the son practiced in the mirror, so to speak, what he wanted to say, he is only able to get out part of it. He says, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer to be called your son.” And before he can say, “treat me like one of your hired hands,” the father calls to his servants and says, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him”
(v. 22). The younger son not only got the best robe, but a ring and sandals, too. They killed the fatted calf and ate and celebrated. And the father says, “for this son of mine was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” (v. 24). The father doesn’t even immediately say anything. He just runs, embraces, kisses. That’s grace. God can welcome us back in the same way.

If we keep reading, we see that the older son id not happy. And the older son makes his disappointment known to his father. But the father assures the older son of his value and worth, but says, “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” (v. 32). The younger son’s return does not diminish the value of the father’s love for the older son. There is great joy when one has been found, when one repents, when one wakes up to the fact that hr is lost and makes his way back home.

It doesn’t take much to get lost. All it takes is one wrong turn. One case of the “gimmes.” One decision against God to go ahead of someone else, and we end up not knowing where we are. But if we can just acknowledge that we are lost and move in the right direction toward God, we can be found. Found afar off by the Father who will run to us, embracing us before we can even open up our arms. The way of the cross leads home. The way of return leads to the lost being found. And, oh, what a return it is. So let us make our way on the Way. It leads home.  Come on home.