Lost in Different Ways

A Reflection from Luke 15:11–32

I’ve always been struck by who Jesus was talking to when He told this story. Luke says the crowd included “tax collectors and sinners,” but also the religious leaders, people who were confident they had it all together. It’s like He was speaking to every kind of person in the room. Those who had obviously messed up... and those who thought they hadn’t.

This parable is usually called The Prodigal Son, but maybe it’s really about two sons who were lost in different ways and a Father who loved them both.

The younger son is the obvious one. He asks for his inheritance early, basically saying, “I’m done with you, Dad.” He walks away from home, spends everything on wild living, and ends up broke and feeding pigs. Hungry and ashamed, he finally decides to go back. Not as a son, he doesn’t think he’s earned that anymore, but maybe he can work as a servant.

I’ve read this part of the story more times than I can count, and still, the moment when the father runs toward his son gets me every time. There’s something in me that still expects a lecture, a long silence, or a list of conditions. But that’s not what happens. The father sees him from a distance, runs to him, embraces him. Before the son can even finish his apology, his father’s already calling for a robe, a ring, sandals, and a feast.

It’s not a slow rebuild. It’s instant restoration. And that kind of grace is still hard to wrap my head around.

Then there’s the older son. He’s been there the whole time. He’s followed the rules. Worked the land. Done everything “right.” But when he hears music and dancing, and finds out it’s a party for his reckless little brother, he refuses to go in. His bitterness spills out. “I’ve served you all these years. You never even gave me a goat.”

I’ve been there. Maybe not standing outside a party, but definitely in that place where I’m thinking, Why them, God? Why not me? I’ve put in the work. I’ve been faithful. I’ve done what I was supposed to do. And still felt overlooked.

It’s easy to forget that being near the Father doesn’t always mean we’re connected to His heart.

Just like he ran to the younger son, the father now goes out to the older one. He doesn’t scold him, he reminds him: “You are always with me. Everything I have is yours.” And once again, there’s an invitation. Not just to obey. Not just to keep doing the right things. But to join the celebration.

Jesus doesn’t tell us what the older son chooses. The story ends there. And maybe that’s the point. It leaves the door open for the listener. For us.

Both sons had a choice.

One had to decide if he would receive grace, even when he felt unworthy. The other had to decide if he could celebrate grace, even when it felt unfair.

I think we all find ourselves in one of their shoes, depending on the season. Sometimes we’re running. Sometimes we’re working hard and quietly resenting it. Sometimes we feel stuck in shame, and other times we feel like we’ve earned something from God. In both cases, we miss the heart of the Father.

But His response is the same: He sees us. He comes to us. And He invites us to come in.
This story reminds me that I don’t have to clean myself up to be welcomed back. I also don’t have to prove myself to stay close. And when someone else receives grace I don’t think they deserve? I can still choose to celebrate. Because God’s love isn’t divided. It’s not measured out. It’s more than enough.

So wherever you find yourself in this story (whether far from God or quietly burned out by trying to earn your place) know that the Father is still extending the same invitation.

Come in. The celebration has already started.

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” – Luke 19:10