Luke 15
This chapter, from the 4th verse, gives us our Lord's reply to the charge brought against Him by the Pharisees and scribes—"This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them"—which becomes the occasion of His setting forth the depths of divine grace.
In this threefold parable, observe that it is only on one sheep, one piece of silver, one son, that there is such joy in heaven. If a whole city were moved to repentance, we can well understand how such an extensive work might be connected with rejoicing, but here it is one sinful, lost sinner over whom there is such gladness. This is a marvelous thought. Each too was lost—a lost sheep, a lost piece of silver, a lost son. So Scripture testifies that God now looks upon man as lost. Hence we read that "The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." Men and women, however refined or educated, never of themselves find their way back to God. No, they are lost! Therefore in the riches of divine mercy Jesus came to seek and to save the LOST!
In this parable, we see the outgoing of the loving heart of the Good Shepherd, the gracious actings of the Holy Spirit, and the marvelous love of the Father toward the lost. In the simplest, and yet the most telling way, the blessed Lord thus proclaims the love of God—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost—to sinners.
He first tells out the shepherd's love in seeking and saving one lost sheep. "What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?"
Notice Christ's joy in saving, and that He keeps those whom He finds. "When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." How safe then is the sinner who takes refuge in Christ, and gives Him all the glory of saving him! None can pluck out of His hand. "He layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." It does not say that the angels rejoice, though they may, but what we have here is the deep joy of Christ in finding a lost sheep. When He saved the wicked Samaritan woman, He could say, "I have meat to eat that ye know not of." How precious this is! And further it says, "When he cometh home." Christ will never let go of the sinner who touches the hem of His garment, until he is landed securely in the glory; He will carry him safe home. And then what endless joy! All the intelligences of heaven will rejoice with Him when we reach home.
The second part of the parable is about a lost piece of silver. We have here a woman taking a lighted candle and sweeping the house diligently. Her heart is set on finding the lost piece. She may see a thousand other objects, but the moment the light shines upon the lost piece, it is found, and then, oh, what joy! The woman illustrates the work of the Holy Spirit in the salvation of a soul.
The third part of this parable opens out to us the heart of God the Father towards a poor, lost, guilty sinner. It blessedly illustrates the exceeding riches of divine grace. The self-willed man, following the desires of the flesh and of the mind, wandered far away; he was glad of the gifts, but cared nothing for the giver. To gratify his own lusts was the absorbing object. He went farther and farther from the father. This is where man's will and desires always lead him. He went "into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living." It is a true picture of man—every man. He gladly receives God's gifts, but how does he use them? Is it not to please himself? It may be the pleasures of the world, the religiousness or irreligiousness of the world, but the gratifying himself is the object, and not God. Nothing can be worse. It is man doing his own will, not God's. It is man pleasing himself, and not caring to please God.
The prodigal went on step by step until he "spent all," and "began to be in want." His resources were limited, and came to an end. All his means of self-pleasing were exhausted. What could he do then? What does man always do when in distress, but turn to his fellow man? He first of all made man his refuge, not his father. Man will do anything rather than turn to God. And what did he find? He found that citizens of this world have self for their object. To feed swine was the only use men could make of him for their own profit. And there this once wealthy, jovial, pleasure-seeking wanderer found himself in poverty, in hunger and filth. He found all resources gone, and an aching void occupying his soul. He looked at men around, and no heart throbbed with pity and compassion—"no man gave unto him." The "husks" of the world were all the resources at his command, and poverty and want were devouring him. At last he discovers that he is perishing. What a striking picture of man who is without God, and who has no hope. In helplessness and despondency he is forced to the conclusion—"I perish with hunger."
What a solemn conclusion, "I perish." And, you, if you were to die tonight or the Lord Jesus should come, would you be banished forever from God's happy presence? A thousand ages might roll on, and still there would be the blackness of darkness forever. Do you say, I am not a great sinner? I reply, What can be worse, what sinner can be blacker, than living all your days seeking happiness apart from God and Christ—using the very blessings with which God in His providence has blessed you, to lead your heart and energies farther and farther from Him? What can be worse than this?
The prodigal's thought was to escape from perishing. "I perish with hunger." His need led him to think of the father. We are told that he "came to himself," and what then? He thought of the father's house, and that the servants there were far better off than he. "How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare." His mind, resting on the father's home, and love, and resources, not only showed him more and more his own poverty and wretchedness, but so attracted his heart that he exclaimed, "I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants."
The whole question now was, how the father would meet this sinful one in his ruin and degradation. Does he receive such? Ah, that is the question. And are we not taught that the need and misery of this ungodly one served to draw forth the rich mercy which was in the father's heart? And so God loves sinners, though He hates sin. He delights in mercy; His heart pours forth its richest, warmest love to the utterly unclean and helpless. We are told that when he did actually arise to come to his father, while he was yet a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and (without one upbraiding word) fell on his neck, and kissed him. Can anything exceed the depth and perfection of such love? God so loves. It needs an unworthy object on which to manifest itself. It indeed passes knowledge. We think of it, taste and enjoy it, and adore and worship, but we lack capacity to measure its divine and infinite depths.
The father saw him in his filth, had compassion on him in his ruined state, and kissed him in his rags; then when under the sense of his guilty, perishing condition, the son said, "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son," it only brought out yet more of the deep resources of grace that were in the father's heart. It strikingly tells us that it is worthy of God to love, to save and bless lost and ruined sinners. "The father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him." The father did not point to his rags and say, I must have them mended; no, God can use nothing of the flesh with its affections and lusts. God's way is not to mend the flesh, but to give a new nature and bring the sinner into a new standing and position before Him. He could not use any part of the old, filthy, worn-out, tattered garments, but he adorned him with the best robe. The richest blessings that God has to give are lovingly bestowed upon repentant sinners. We are blessed with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ. "Put a ring on his hand" in token of the everlasting love and relationship subsisting between the father and the repentant one on whose face he had printed the kiss of reconciliation. Put also "shoes on his feet," and thus fit him for the path of service which he may have to tread; then, that he may feel happy and at home in his father's presence, it is further said, "Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry." Let us eat—the father and the son—for "our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ." "Let us eat, and be merry." What a wondrous place of blessing! Can anything exceed it? The lost one is brought back into the Father's presence, fitted for it by the Father Himself, and then called to share the Father's thoughts and joy in the infinite worth and finished work of the slain Lamb.
"He saw us ruined in the fall,
And loved us notwithstanding all;
He saved us from our lost estate;
His loving-kindness, 0 how great!"
Thus, through divine mercy, the believer in Jesus is redeemed to God, made nigh, and has liberty now to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus. He has peace with God, rest in God, joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit makes this known to our hearts. What a wondrous salvation—"made...meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light." What rest and joy this gives us!
How it puts us at once on the ground of thanksgiving and worship, especially when we enter into the
Father's delight to have us near Himself, and in the enjoyment of His own love. "Let us eat, and be merry:
for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." It is added, "And they began to
be merry." Yes it was only the beginning of the joy, for ages upon ages may roll on, and this wondrous joy will never grow less. In God's presence there is fullness of joy, and at His right hand there are
pleasures for evermore.