Fourth Sunday in Lent: March 30, 2025

“The Prodigal Father” Sermon Transcript

(Video Transcript reformatted by ChatGPT)

If you’re a fan of The Office, you probably remember the moment when Michael Scott, in all his awkward wisdom, asked himself, “Do I want my employees to love me or fear me?” Then, in classic Michael fashion, he answered, “I want my employees to be afraid of how much they love me.” It’s a funny line, but also kind of profound. It gets at something real about how we experience love and fear—something that connects in an unexpected way to one of Jesus’ most famous parables: the story of the Prodigal Son.

The Prodigal Son story is one of those classic tales that’s been told and retold for centuries. But here’s something interesting—most of us assume “prodigal” means reckless or wasteful because of how the younger son behaves in the story. In reality, “prodigal” actually means excessive, or giving beyond what’s considered wise. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does carry the sense of going overboard. And, in a surprising twist, it’s not just the son who is prodigal—his father is, too.

So, quick recap: the younger son asks his father for his inheritance early, which is basically like saying, “I wish you were dead so I could have your money now.” Pretty brutal. But the father gives it to him anyway. The son then takes off, wastes every penny, and ends up completely broke and starving. He finally decides to go back home—not because he expects forgiveness, but because even being a servant in his father’s house would be better than his current situation.

Now, this is where the story really hits. The son doesn’t even get the chance to knock on the door. The Bible says, “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and ran to him.” That detail tells us something huge—the father must have been watching and waiting for him to return. Some people imagine him on a rooftop, scanning the horizon every day, hoping to see his son coming home.

And then, the father does something shocking. He runs. In ancient times, a man of his stature would never be seen running—it was considered totally undignified. But he doesn’t care. He picks up his robes, sprints down the road, and embraces his son with overwhelming love. No lectures, no “I told you so’s,” no conditions—just pure, extravagant grace.

This makes me think about how we often talk about God. We picture God as “up there,” distant, watching us from afar. But this story flips that image. Here, God isn’t far away—God is actively looking for us, running toward us the second we take a step back in His direction. It’s an incredible image of love that refuses to keep score.

Now, let’s talk about fear. A lot of people grow up with the idea that we should fear God because of His wrath or judgment. But what if what we really fear isn’t God’s anger, but His love? Think about it—love is vulnerable. It exposes us. When we’ve messed up, it’s easier to brace for punishment than to accept unconditional love. The Prodigal Son expected consequences, not compassion. But the father wasn’t interested in making him grovel—he just wanted his son back.

Kids don’t struggle with this the way adults do. Little kids soak up love without hesitation. But as we grow up, we get more self-conscious. We start pulling away, feeling awkward about too much affection. We do the same thing with God. The older we get, the harder it becomes to just accept grace without overthinking it. If God truly loves us with no conditions, what does that mean for how we see ourselves? And even more challenging—what does that mean for how we treat others?

That’s where the older brother comes in. He’s the responsible one, the “good” son. He’s furious when his father throws a party for his screw-up of a sibling. In his mind, love should be earned. But that’s not how the father sees it. The love he gives is prodigal—excessive, unfair, over-the-top. It’s not about who deserves what; it’s about a relationship that’s bigger than merit.

Paul touches on this same idea when he says, “From now on, we regard no one from a human point of view… if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation.” In other words, once we get what grace actually means, it changes everything. It’s not about being a spiritual guru or earning points—it’s about becoming like little kids again, able to receive love without hesitation.

So, coming back to Michael Scott’s accidental wisdom—maybe the real challenge isn’t fearing God’s punishment, but being “afraid of how much we love Him.” Real love is risky. It’s overwhelming. It requires us to let go of pride and control. But when we stop resisting, we realize that God has been running toward us all along. And that’s the kind of love worth embracing.

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