June 21, 2026

“The Prodigal's Father”

Message by Rev. Alan Perkins

Today is Father’s Day. So a special welcome to all of our fathers and grandfathers. Let’s give them a round of applause. And because today is Father’s Day, I would like to take the opportunity to examine what it means when we refer to God as our Father. In what sense is God a Father to us? How is his fatherhood like that of a human father? It matters, because this is how God has chosen to describe his relationship to us. It's not just a name that we made up for him. This is what God calls himself: our Father. And so I could stand up here this morning, and say, for example, "God is like a favorite uncle". Perhaps I could use that "uncle" analogy to highlight some important truths about God. But comparing God to an uncle would be just a human comparison. Because the Bible never refers to him that way. The Lord's Prayer doesn't begin with the words, "Our uncle in heaven, hallowed be your name," but rather "Our Father in heaven."  No, among all the human relationships that God could have chosen as a metaphor for his relationship with us — brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, mother —he chose this one: "Father". And so there was something significant that God wanted to communicate by his choice of that title. 

From the very beginning, God intended that human fatherhood would serve as a living picture of who he is, to reveal to us something about his character and his relationship to us. Therefore, when he refers to himself as our "father," it is not arbitrary, but highly intentional. And the Scriptures reflect this. For example, in the Old Testament, we see the prophet Isaiah referring to God as our Father:

Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
    We are the clay, you are the potter;
    we are all the work of your hand. (Isaiah 64:8)

This particular reference to God as our Father is instructive. What aspect of fatherhood is in view here? It is the idea of someone who influences his children’s character; someone who works to form them and to shape them into mature adults. And this is consistent with what we heard last week, when we saw that in the Old Testament, God is viewed as the Creator. In the Old Testament, God is viewed as the sovereign Lord of the heavens and the earth. God is pictured as someone high and lifted up. Someone who dwells in the heavens above. Someone who is holy and who cannot be approached by mere mortals. For example, when God spoke to Moses from the burning bush, Moses had to remove his sandals, because he was standing on holy ground. In the Old Testament, it is God’s transcendence, his majesty, his “otherness”, that is emphasized. And for that reason, the title of “Father” is rarely used in the Old Testament, less than a dozen times. Because the sense of intimacy and closeness with God which the title “Father” implies was not prominent in the Old Testament. Although we do have hints, from time to time, of the change in perspective that would be coming. For example, in Isaiah 57:15,

For this is what the high and exalted One says—
    he who lives forever, whose name is holy:
“I live in a high and holy place,
    but also with the one who is contrite and lowly in spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly
    and to revive the heart of the contrite. (Isaiah 57:15)

This is a kind of transitional verse, in terms of how it views God. It signals a change, from the Old Testament view of God as remote and inaccessible, to the New Testament view of God as welcoming and inviting, someone who is lives among us. What we see here in Isaiah is that although God lives “in a high and holy place”, he also dwells with those who are humble and repentant. He isn’t just “out there somewhere”, but he is also here with us. That signals a change in emphasis. And in the New Testament, we see this change very clearly. We see Christ repeatedly referring to God as his Father, and as our Father as well; over 150 times. And the aspects of God’s character that are emphasized in the New Testament are his love, his tenderness and compassion, his desire to forgive and show mercy. Yes, you can find those qualities in the Old Testament as well, but they are much more prominent in the New Testament. For example, we read in Matthew 6:26:

“26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matthew 6:26)

“Your heavenly Father feeds them.” And so here, we see our Father God as someone who cares for us and provides for our needs, in the same way that he provides for all the living creatures that he has made. That’s a shift in emphasis. So what changed? Did God change? No, God didn’t change. What changed is that God revealed himself more fully and completely in Christ. This is what is called progressive revelation; God revealing more and more of himself throughout salvation history, with Jesus Christ being the full and final revelation of who God is. As Jesus said to his disciples in John 14:7-9:

“7 If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”

8 Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.”

9 Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:7-9)

What Jesus is telling us here is that there is no difference between who he is and who the Father is. When we looked the doctrine of the Trinity a few weeks ago, we saw that Jesus and the Father are both fully God. So in terms of their essence, their being, they are both fully divine. Both of them are eternal and uncreated. Both of them possess all of the powers and attributes of deity. But these verses are saying something more. We sometimes tend to think of God the Father as stern, and demanding, and wrathful, while we think of Jesus as being loving, and compassionate, and forgiving. But that’s not the case. There is no distinction in God’s character as Father, and God’s character as Son. Whatever Jesus is, God the Father is also. Which means that God the Father is just as loving, and compassionate, and welcoming as Jesus. And we can see that very clearly in one of Christ’s parables, the parable of the prodigal son. So that’s where I would like to spend the rest of our time this morning, as we look at what this parable tells us about our Father God.

I’ll be reading from Luke’s gospel, chapter 15, starting with verse 11: 

11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. (Luke 15:11-12)

Amazingly, the father complied with this outrageous demand. He certainly was under no obligation to do so. The younger son had no right to ask that his father distribute his wealth prior to his death. This demand also dishonored the father, and shamed him. And it must have grieved the father terribly, knowing that his son's intention was to leave home, perhaps forever. It must have broken his heart, as the father anticipated the pain and sorrow his son would likely bring upon himself by his foolish choices. But in spite of all that, he granted the request. Why? Because he knew that although he might force his son to stay, he could never force him to return his father's love. Love can't be compelled. It has to be freely given. And so his father gave him what he wanted and watched him go. 

I can imagine the scene: the father, holding back tears; the son, happy and excited at his newfound freedom; not even noticing. And even today, if someone should turn their back on God the Father, if they reject his love and decide to go their own way, he won't run after them, calling, "Come back! Come back!" No, as much as it grieves him to do it, he'll allow them to leave and experience the consequences of their decision. He'll watch and wait in love, until the day when they finally come to their senses, and repent of their sin, and return to him of their own free will. Perhaps some of you have experienced that in your own life. Or perhaps some of you are still waiting for your own prodigals to return. And if that’s the case, you need to know that just as the father in the parable continued to love his son, and to hope for his return, waiting day after day, in spite of how badly the son had treated him, so also God cares for your prodigals and loves them, no matter what they have done or are doing. No matter how far they go, they are never beyond the boundary of his love for them; they are never out of his sight.

But imagine how you would feel as a father if your son came to you and said something like this, "Dad, you've done pretty well for yourself over the years. You've worked hard, saved your money, invested wisely. And what I'd like you to do is liquidate enough of those assets to give me my share of the inheritance now. I want the money while I'm still young enough to enjoy it." Most parents would be shocked and offended by such a proposal, and rightly so. I expect that the father in the parable was too. Why? Because it showed that the son valued his father's "stuff" more than he valued his father. His father was just a checkbook to him, a bank account, a list of assets.

And what the son did next proved that this was indeed his attitude. He sold off everything he received and converted it into cash. Perhaps this was a farm that his father had worked to establish and develop his whole life – fields he had cleared of rocks, barns he had labored to build, animals he had fed, and watered, and cared for. It was probably his dream to pass that all on to his sons, as his legacy to them. Some of you come from farming families, perhaps going back generations. And you know that those farms represent not just acreage, or buildings, or equipment, but years of labor, and love, and hopes and dreams. But the son in the parable cared nothing about that. 

And then what did the son do? he left. “Not long after that,” the parable tells us, “the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.” (Luke 15:13) He wanted to get as far away from his father as possible. Perhaps there was some tension between he and his father. Perhaps he was tired of living under someone else's rules. Or maybe he just wanted to get off the farm and see the world. At any rate, as soon as he could get his things together, he left.  Why? Because he wanted the material benefits of sonship, but without the obligations and responsibilities of relationship. And that’s the world's attitude toward God. People want God's blessings, but they don't want a relationship with him. They want to enjoy all the good things that come from God—and the Bible tells us that every good and perfect gift comes from God—but they want those things without God Himself. They don't want to submit to his authority; they don't want to follow his rules; they don't want him involved in their lives. They want to run their own lives their own way, without any interference. And so spiritually, they put as much distance between themselves and God as possible.

And as much as I would like to say this is only an issue with the world, the truth is that we can be guilty of this attitude as well. Here’s what I mean. And I’ll put it in the form of a question. Do you want God, or do you just want his "stuff"? Do you want a relationship with a heavenly Father who loves you, and who also places demands on you? Or do you just want whatever you can get out of him, while keeping him at arm's length? That’s a hard question, isn’t it? The younger son in the parable imagined that following his own path would bring freedom, while instead it only brought him slavery. But the most foolish mistake he made was in valuing his father's wealth and blessings more than his father's love and fellowship. He rejected something of great worth and settled for something of relatively little worth. He wanted the loot, and not the love. My hope and my prayer is that we will not make the same mistake. My hope is that instead, our attitude will be like that of Paul the apostle, who wrote this:

"I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ" (Philippians 3:8)

And likewise, when Christ prayed to the Father in John 17, he said, 

“this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (John 17:3) 

Because the great reward of being a Christian, the great goal of the life of faith, isn't to somehow get all the things from God that we want. Although God does often bless us in many ways. No, the great reward of following Christ is to know God Himself; to experience His love; to live in relationship with him. Everything else, by comparison, is just "rubbish". So let me ask you again: Are you seeking to know God? Is that your primary occupation in life? Are you giving thought to how you can grow spiritually? Or are you spiritually in a "distant country," like the younger son in the parable, content to enjoy His gifts without really knowing him? If so, the good news is that he still loves you, and he's waiting for you to return to fellowship with him. Even if you haven’t given much thought to God lately, he's thinking of you. He's watching, and waiting, and hoping for you to turn to him. He’s ready to welcome you with open arms, ready to receive you, ready to rejoice over you. And without a single word of reproach or condemnation.

That's good news. But it may require some spiritual reckoning. It may require some soul searching and repentance. That was the case with the younger son. For a while after he left home, everything was great. Life was one big party. Eat, drink, and be merry. But then reality hit. First, his money ran out, and along with it went his so-called friends. In a case of poetic justice, his party pals treated him the same way he had treated his father – as nothing more than a source of funds. When the gravy train ran out of gravy, they were gone. And just then, the economy tanked. Everyone was out of work. No one had anything to eat. The best job he could get was feeding pigs. For a Jewish boy, this was the ultimate degradation, because swine were considered unclean animals, something detestable. And not only had he become a waiter in a swine restaurant, but the pigs were eating better than he was! He was starving! If he thought he could get away with it, he would have dropped down on his hands and knees and buried his face in the trough right next to the grunting pigs! What a pathetic, disgusting picture! How different this was than what he had imagined when he left his father's house! Where was his great "freedom" and "independence" now? 

And this is when, the parable tells us, he finally "came to his senses". Standing there in the field, hungry and covered with mud, surrounded by smelly, dirty pigs, he woke up from his moral fog.

14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. (Luke 15:14-20)

This is what true repentance looks like. First, he admitted that he was in bad shape. He didn't gloss it over, or sugarcoat it, or try to make it sound better than it was. He was starving to death. Period. Second, he recognized the cause of his problem, which was his own sin. He didn't blame his father, or his friends, or the economy, or bad luck. Third, he acknowledged that he had no claim on his father. He no longer had any right to be called his father's son. And so fourth, he decided to seek grace. Not justice; justice would keep him in the pigpen. But grace; undeserved favor, unmerited goodness.

And that's just what you and I have to do whenever we find ourselves distant from God, for whatever reason. We need to repent. We need to acknowledge our sin, we need to turn around and return to God. We need to confess our unworthiness, and seek his grace and forgiveness. The good news is that when we do this, when we turn to God in heartfelt repentance, he will joyfully receive us, as a loving Father. Not reluctantly. Not indifferently. Not angrily. But joyfully. 

Perhaps you have a different picture of God in your mind. I think we often have this idea of God as remote and inaccessible. We see him as this dour, somber figure, like one of the faces on Mount Rushmore. Grand, majestic, unchanging. And we may view forgiveness as primarily a legal transaction. Here’s how it goes: we incur a debt by sin which we are unable to pay; Christ pays the penalty for sin by his death; God accepts his death as payment for our sin. All of which is true, but if we focus solely on the legal aspects of justification, the whole process can seem rather sterile, and bloodless and emotionless. God becomes some kind of bureaucrat stamping our debt as "paid in full". But the reality is far, far different, and it's expressed by what we see here. What was the father’s response?

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. (Luke 15:20-24)

God is not emotionless. He is not reserved. He is not made of stone. He is not concerned with preserving his dignity. On the contrary, when we repent, he's overjoyed! He's filled with compassion and love. No matter what we've done, no matter how much we reek of sin, as soon as we turn to him, he runs to us and throws his arms around us and embraces us! He celebrates! He calls all the angels  over and throws a huge party! Why? Because he loves us with a boundless, limitless love; an extravagant, exuberant love. Even the love of a human father for his own children is at best a weak analogy to the deep, abiding love and affection which our heavenly father has for us. He's not ashamed to admit it, he's not reluctant to show it, and nothing we do or say can diminish it in the slightest. If we belong to Christ, then we are his, and he is ours, forever and ever. All we have to do is repent. Or else we'll stay in the pigpen forever.

Well, it would be great if the story ended there, but it doesn't. Because now the elder brother enters the picture. He's offended that his father is giving his brother such a warm welcome. And he becomes angry. 

25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 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. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Here’s the problem: the older son doesn't love his father any more than the younger son did at the beginning. The older son has been toiling, and working, and following his father's commands for years, but why? Out of love? No. Solely out of duty and obligation. You see, the older brother also valued his father mainly for what he stood to inherit from him; the only difference is that he was willing to follow the rules, and work and wait for it. This attitude had made him self-righteous, and bitter, and resentful, and it all spills out here, as he loses his temper, rebuking his father and accusing him of acting unjustly. 

And that's the way it is with people who are moral and religious, but whose religion isn't motivated by love. They view all of their devotion, and service, and sacrifice as works which ought to earn God's favor, which ought to merit God's approval and reward. They don't repent, because they see no need of repentance. They don't confess their unworthiness, because they don’t see themselves as being unworthy. And so when God blesses and welcomes others, whose sins are more obvious, they consider him to be unjust. They are blind to their own sin, blind to their lack of love to God, and blind to their lack of love for their neighbor. Tragically, the parable gives no indication that the older son ever came to love his father as his father loved him. But let’s hope that he did. Because the Father loved him too, just as much as he loved the younger brother. And so the Father would have patiently waited for him to repent of his self-righteousness and pride, so that he could enjoy his father’s love and fellowship as well. Let’s hope that he did.

That’s the parable of the prodigal son; a story which Jesus told to help us understand how much our Father God loves us, and how much he desires to fellowship with us,
no matter where we are spiritually; no matter what we have done, or are doing. And so in closing, here's the question I'd like to leave you with: Which brother are you? The truth is that we all exhibit characteristics of both the younger and older brother at times. But which are you most like today? 

• Are you the prodigal son at the beginning of the story, going your own way, enjoying God’s blessings, but content to keep him at a distance? 

• Or are you more like the prodigal son at the end of the story, as he turns to his father in repentance and love, seeking a relationship with him? 

• Are you perhaps like the older brother, outwardly obedient and faithful, but looking down on those who haven't maintained the same standard of morality and piety that you have, and secretly resentful when God accepts and blesses them? 

• Or maybe your answer is “none of the above”. Maybe you’re the third son, the one who isn’t mentioned in the parable, the son who has been joyfully serving his father out of love this whole time, and who gladly joined in the celebration when his brother returned. 

But however you answered, know this: that your father, God, loves you with an eternal, passionate, unreserved, unwavering love. He stands ready to receive you, at any time,
if you will come to him, seeking to know him and to fellowship with him. And that is the greatest treasure that anyone can possess. So why not do that, even today? 

The First Baptist Church of Richwood - June 21, 2026