This is a picture of my dad on his bicycle with my brother in front of him. And I am seated behind. I’m guessing my mother took the picture. It was 1958 in Lincoln, Nebraska and my memory is fairly incomplete since I was only a little more than 4 years old. That’s my best guess anyway. What I do remember for sure is that I had a great dad.

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There was once a successful businessman who had everything. He had a wonderful family, a prosperous business, and many friends. He was a good man. And life was good.

But then his family fell apart. The younger son had an identity crisis and decided to travel the world in order to find himself. He wanted no part of the family or the business. But he was happy to take the family money, which he spent living a reckless, self-indulgent life that was unsustainable.

The older son was responsible, and he was a good business apprentice to his father. So, he stayed on the family estate, working and planning for the day when he would inherit his share of the family business. But even though he had everything, he was always unhappy and angry. He carried a grudge against his younger brother, and against his father for the problems in the family and in their business.

One particular day, the younger brother awoke in a drunken haze. His money, his friends, his health, and his self-respect were completely gone. He looked around at the other addicts with whom he was living, and he suddenly realized how good he had had it at home. The love he had traveled so far to find, had been his all along. And unlike his opportunistic fair-weather friends, his dad had always loved him unconditionally. So, he went crawling back, hoping he could at least get minimum wage working for his dad’s company.

Dad, however, was waiting and watching—hoping against hope that his son would come home. It was a glorious reunion. And without regard for the obvious risk, he immediately restored his son to full status as an honored member of the family. And he threw a big party so that he could once again enjoy being with his entire family and with all his friends as he had done before.

The older brother, however, was so mad that even his beloved father could not talk him into joining the party. He continued to sulk rather than enjoy the gifts of his father. He could not bear the thought of sharing those gifts with a brother who didn’t deserve them.

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When Jesus told this story, he ended it there without a resolution. There’s no happy ending where the elder brother is concerned. In fact, there’s no ending at all—just a question about what the future might hold for the sulking brother. And of course, its not hard to understand Jesus’ point. He wanted his listeners to write the ending for themselves. Whether you identify with the older brother or the younger brother, we all face the same question. Are we going to enjoy being in the father’s house? Are we going to enjoy the gifts of the father? And, are we going to love our brothers unconditionally as our Father does?

A good story has character development. And the story of the prodigal son gives us that. The prodigal goes from loyal son, to disloyal good-as-dead son. Then he comes to himself, goes home, is welcomed by his father and is reinstated. His story is circular in a way because he ends up where he started. But his character development has a spectacular trajectory. From the depths of a self-inflicted hell, he ascends, by the gift of his Father’s grace, to a better place and as a better person than when his story began.

But in spite of the obvious development of the prodigal character, the story is not really about him. Its about his father. And in that respect, there is some character development that we often miss. At first glance it would seem that the character of the father does not develop at all. The father is loving and forgiving from beginning to end. He doesn’t change. And it appears that he loves both of his sons equally.

But imagine that you are hearing the story of the prodigal for the first time. And suppose you expect and even want a “stronger” father figure in this story. Maybe the father will be strict and harsh toward his younger son when he demands what isn’t even his yet. Most hard working, law-abiding people would sympathize with a father who would try some tough love, limit the damage, freeze the younger son’s accounts, or even have him arrested!

So, although the actual character of the father in the story does not change, our understanding of that character does. At first, we might think Jesus is telling us about a spoiled child and a permissive parent. But by the time we reach the ambiguous ending where the elder son is sulking, we see that throughout the story, Jesus has been unveiling the character of the father. In the end, the father appears both loving and heroic. He loved both sons unconditionally. And because of that he made himself vulnerable to be cheated out of love, by both his sons. That is heroic, self-sacrificing love. And it’s the only kind of love that makes wayward sons stay home because they want to; not just because they have to.

As a son, I have to admit that there were a lot of things about my dad that I did not appreciate at the time, especially when I was very young. My father passed away 20 years ago. And I’m still learning to really appreciate who he was and what he stood for. He gave me an incomprehensible gift just by being my dad. But there were other gifts along the way. Here are a few.

1. The greatest gift Dad gave me, was the privilege to just be with him. That implies a lot of things; but mainly that he was the kind of person I wanted to be with. He did cool things, like taking me for a ride on his bike, and flying balsa wood airplanes in the park. What I didn’t realize then, was that he did those things just so we could enjoy being together.
2. Dad gave me the gift of music. Music was his life. And he believed if you wanted a good life, and if you wanted to be a good person, good music was not a luxury, it was a necessity. And I appreciate that about him more now than ever.
3. Dad gave me the gift of thinking. He believed that education was supremely important; and he inspired me to learn as much as possible about as many things as possible. But learning was still not as important as character.
4. Dad taught me that what is popular is not always good. He showed me that having the courage to follow your conscience is better in the long run than following the crowd.
5. Dad showed me that God was someone you could love and talk to. But more than that, Dad showed me over a lifetime that ideas about God should never stand still. There’s always more to learn. And God is always bigger, more loving, more accepting, and more forgiving than you think.

One of the most amazing statements by Jesus is found in Matthew 7:9-11.

Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!

My dad knew how to give good gifts to his children. How much more, then, does my Heavenly Father want to give good gifts to me.

When I’m tempted to think that I’ll never be good enough, or when I doubt that I belong or that I am worthy of love, I can remember the gifts my dad gave me. Truly he was a good father who loved his children. And then I remember that my Heavenly Father is even better than my earthly dad. My God is more giving, more loving, more understanding, more merciful, more accepting, and more of everything I can imagine!

He says he’s ready to throw a party if we’ll just enjoy being with him. So, come to the party. Let’s make it a big one!