AfterWords | Flourishing Are the Merciful

A 3-Minute Read
by Lisa Goddard

I’ve read and heard Jesus’s parable of the prodigal son many, many times. Typically, I focus in on the penitential son and the unconditional forgiveness of his father, my prideful mind often wandering to a checklist of people who are in need of a healthy dose of repentance. I have a difficult time imagining myself living as recklessly as that son or doing something so outrageous that I need to beg for God’s forgiveness. (Although, if I’m honest, there are lots of small things I do day in and day out that could probably fit the repentance-needed category.)

Our House Church group reflected on the story Sunday by contemplating the image of Rembrandt’s famous painting, The Return of the Prodigal Son. This time, I connected with a different character, the elder brother. Although difficult to read his expression in the painting, I could imagine he probably felt disrespected, unappreciated, perhaps unloved. He had always been obedient and responsible, doing everything his father asked and expected of him.

“But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.’” (Luke 15:29)

I can relate to that—the old phrase “Why do good things happen to bad people?” comes to mind. I have been resentful more times in my life than I care to admit. When I was in the working world, I remember an instance when a new employee was hired to do a similar job as mine, and I learned by accident that this individual was earning a higher salary than I was. I was seething inside; I had been there for quite some time already and obviously had more experience, yet it seemed someone new was more highly regarded than me. Why wasn’t I rewarded? and It’s not fair were probably the least offensive of my indignant thoughts.

I have always been the rule-follower, doing what is “right,” crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s. But my Pharisaical nature sometimes rears its ugly head, and I want to be recognized for my good deeds and have my prodigal ways overlooked by God. Just like the elder brother, my anger and self-pity caused me to lose sight of what the bigger picture might be.

As I used to tell my kids when they were young and felt hurt or betrayed, “Everyone has a story that we may not know about. There’s often more to the situation than meets the eye.” Forgiveness and mercy under bewildering circumstances is difficult to say the least, but we are instructed, as Jesus followers, to forgive and let God do the judging.

Back to the new employee. Over time, I learned that this person had endured challenging health and personal circumstances and was struggling to make ends meet. We became quite friendly, and I came to appreciate the skills and ideas she had. Eventually, after putting aside my petty thoughts and indignation, I was rewarded with an even bigger salary increase than expected and a good bit of praise for my work. I was served a good portion of humble pie.

“Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.” (Matthew 7:1–2)

I can’t change or control what others do. But I can control my attitude and response. I need to remind myself that I am a sinner whom God has forgiven unconditionally and accept how he chooses to show mercy and to whom he chooses to give it. The bigger lesson I learned, and continually remind myself of, is that God meets us where we are, and we should rejoice with the lost being found. Instead of being envious, I need to pray that the Father continues to bestow his loving grace on me because I know I surely need it.