Reflections From The Parable Of The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32)
INTRODUCTION
Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32) is perhaps one of the most well-known and well-loved stories in all of Scripture. And yet, beneath its familiar surface lies a depth that continues to confront, convict, and comfort. It is a story about rebellion and repentance, about resentment and restoration. But most of all, it is about the grace of God.
In this parable, Jesus speaks not only to the openly sinful and broken but also to the religious and self-assured. He tells us about two sons (both estranged from their father in different ways), and one father whose love surpasses all expectations.
This reflection is a walk through the text, broken into sections that follow the dramatic movement of the story: from the younger son’s rebellion to the father’s radical forgiveness, from the older son’s resentment to the final appeal for him to join the feast. And all along the way, the heart of the gospel pulses: a father who runs, a feast that never runs out, and a brother who paid the price to bring us home.
REBELLION (VV. 11–16)
Sin drove the wayward son farther than he ever imagined it would (vv. 15–16).
First, it drove him out of his father’s house—away from true joy, fellowship, and fulfillment—into a far country (v. 13). Then it impoverished him (v. 14). Finally, it dragged him into undignified servitude on a pig farm (v. 15).
Think about the weight of Jewish national and religious pride—and how degrading it must have been for him to hire himself out and make himself subservient to a Gentile. Jews despised Gentiles so deeply that they often called them “dogs,” believing them to be ritually unclean and excluded from the covenant promises of God.
Yet perhaps the greatest insult of all was not just working for a Gentile, but caring for pigs—the ultimate symbol of uncleanness.
But that is what his sin led him to: it robbed him of communion with his father and brother. It cost him his inheritance, his status, his dignity, and his freedom. It left him isolated, desperate, and exposed in a foreign land.
He went from the rich feasts of his father’s table to craving the pods meant for pigs in a famine-stricken land.
Sin always promises more than it can ever deliver. It had promised him instant fulfillment and the satisfaction of his wildest desires—but in the end, it left him hungrier than he had ever been in his life—starving not just in body, but in soul.
In this unfortunate turn of events, we find a striking resemblance to the fall of mankind recorded in Genesis 3. We see a couple created in the image of God Himself and given dominion over everything, but were deceived into losing everything by the promise of gaining more—only to lose it all. They were led astray by the desire to reach out and take hold of the one thing they couldn't have. And the results? Catastrophic!
REALIZATION AND REPENTANCE (VV. 17–19)
But then the most amazing thing happens to him: as if jolted by electricity,
"...he came to himself..." (v. 17)
He realized his mistake and saw the folly of what he did. It would seem that realizing our wrongs and mistakes is one of God's mercies to people (2 Timothy 2:25). No true repentance can happen without an acknowledgement of wrongdoing (1 John 1:10).
And so the son makes up his mind to return to his father. This time he decides, not to demand his rights, but to relinquish them (vv. 18–19). He would not presume upon his father's love and compassion and ask to be reinstated as a son. Instead, he would ask to be treated as a servant.
I wonder if it was the shame that humbled him. Or maybe it was the hunger. Or both. Either way, humiliation did what indulgence never could—it shattered his pride and gave birth to repentance.
As Christians, this should be of great comfort to us:
"...for those who love God all things work together for good..." (Rom. 8:28 ESV)
Though the adversary of our souls may assail us with many sorrows... though we're battered by temptation in this world, our heavenly Father will preserve us. And more than that, He will use every trial, hardship, persecution—yes, even every mistake and detour—to conform us into the image of Christ. None of it will be wasted.
"Nothing will be able to separate us from His love." (Rom. 8:31–39)
RETURN AND RESTORATION (VV. 20–24)
"And he arose and came to his father..." (v. 20)
He did not delay. He did not say, "I will go when I have the chance, but I am currently too busy." He sprang to action while the fire of conviction still burned hotly in his heart. Sin had already cheated him once and he was not going to be cheated again. He arose and came to his father before he could give himself reasons not to.
It is the height of both arrogance and ignorance for a person to put off repentance until a more convenient time (James 4:13–17). Conviction is meant to be obeyed; and it is to be obeyed promptly. The time to repent is now—not later or sometime in the future. The command of the Bible is clear:
"Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts." (Heb. 3:15)
So many have delayed their repentance with catastrophic and eternal consequences.
One last thing about this:
- If eternity is as long as we think it is...
- If hell is as dreadful...
- If the wrath of God is as fierce and terrible...
- If the glories of heaven are as radiant...
- If the peace of Christ is as pure...
- And the presence of God blissful and fulfilling as Scripture says it is...
Then what could possibly be more important than the prompt obedience to conviction? What else could be more urgent?
Perhaps, you have delayed your response, or smothered conviction because you do not know how God will respond. Let the next thing that happens put your mind at ease.
I have spent time reflecting on the son's sin, his shame, his hunger, his awakening, and his repentance. But, when it comes to the father's response, I hesitate. It is not that I doubt it. It just overwhelms me and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I don't feel it as deeply as I think I should. Or maybe it's because I know that I can't fully capture it—even though I should since I experience it daily.
However, a few things stand out from the father's response that I would like to discuss:
-
"...But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him." (Luke 15:20)
I read this and wonder whether, when the son left home, it became his father's habit to scan the road every morning. Even though the son had dishonored him, his love for him never waned. It never wavered. He was willing to forgive him long before his son was ever ready to repent. And I wonder: was it dignified for a man of his standing to run like that, especially to welcome a rebellious son? Probably not. But I don't think he cared. All that mattered to him was that,
"This my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." (Luke 15:24 ESV)
This is how God responds to repentant sinners. He spots them from afar and covers the distance. He is full of compassion for those bearing the load of their sin and shame. His arms are wide open, to wrap in a warm embrace, all those that come to him and are downcast.
"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9)
- But more than that, the father was ready to restore even before he was ready to return home. When the son delivers his speech, asking to be taken back, not as a son, but as a servant, it is striking how the father appears to ignore every word. He ignores the plea. He simply embraces the son, then turns to the servants with command to robe him, ring him, shoe him, and celebrate him.
Again I wonder: did the father begin these preparations as soon as the son left home? I find it hard to believe that the robe, ring, sandals, and supplies for a feast were readily available at a moment's notice by sheer coincidence.
- Thirdly, as a Christian, I think it is just marvelous that my sonship is not dependent on my performance. God will never cast out those He has called His sons. Our adoption into His family is permanent. Our place is secure. Though we stumble and fall, we still belong to Him. And He will conform us into the image of His perfect and beloved Son, Jesus Christ.
RESENTMENT (VV. 25–30)
Up until this point, the parable had focused on the wayward son and the father. But, let us not forget that this man had two sons (v. 11).
The first thing we learn about the older son is that he had been in the field, tending his father's estate, when his younger brother returned (v. 25).
At first glance, the older son seems like the perfect son. He was hardworking, obedient, devoted, and loyal. He was everything the younger son wasn't. You almost wonder how the younger son went astray with such a great example to emulate. But the golden child of the family had a very dirty secret: he hated his brother and resented his father.
He is so angry—so bitter—that he refuses to be part of the celebration. And when he is entreated by his father to go in, he responds to the gracious act by calling his father unjust and unfair for:
- Failing to properly reward his devotion and obedience (v. 29)
- Showing more grace to the brother than he deserved (v. 30)
How easy it is to read this and think that the older son was justified in his outburst. But, Oh! How unjustified he was.
He had a skewed view of his own goodness and had set up a system of assessing his own performance where he always scored very high marks. But his attitude exposed the shallowness of his obedience. Even though externally he obeyed his father and served him "faithfully," his heart was loveless and bitter; worn out from trying to prove his worth and earning his keep.
He was unable to share the father's joy and heart in the return of his younger brother. His self-righteousness had numbed him from being able to rejoice in a good thing.
There is a warning here for anyone that would try to earn God's favor by their works. They will end up battered and bruised; tired and worn out; loveless, angry, bitter, resentful; and worse, with nothing to show for it, save a curse:
"For all who rely on the works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, 'Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them'" (Gal. 3:10)
Our best efforts to earn God's favor by our works are flawed because they're ultimately self-serving:
"We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment" (Isaiah 64:6 ESV)
Nobody is ever made right with God on the grounds of their own self-derived righteousness (Gal. 2:16). The only righteousness God will ever accept is the righteousness that comes through faith in Christ (Php. 3:9)
In all his years of service to the father, the older son got not even a young goat to celebrate with his friends (v. 29). Perhaps because the father could discern his motives for service (1 Sam. 16:7)—motives that were transactional, not relational.
The older son never truly delighted in his father; he simply used obedience as currency. But God cannot be bribed with duty. He wants sons, not servants-for-hire.
And even though he served and never disobeyed a command, he failed to do the one thing his father wanted the most: He failed to go after his younger brother.
When it mattered the most, both to the father and for the good of his younger brother, he failed. In fact, he now needed the very thing he was upset with his father for showing to his brother; and worse, he didn't even realize it. But unlike the wayward son who appeals to the father's mercy and is restored, the dutiful son appeals to his own works and deprives himself of the joys of the feast.
Interestingly, it turns out that when they both asked for what was theirs by right, they were estranged from their father. But, in both cases, the father's compassion is extended to both; and despite their great need for it, there was more than enough for both of them.
Those who are most in need of God's grace are often those who are least willing that anyone else receive it. They are often convinced that others are less deserving of God's grace than they are—convinced that self-derived merit sets them apart. But grace, by its very definition, is unearned or it ceases to be grace.
REASSURANCE (VV. 31–32)
The parable ends, not with a celebration, but with an appeal by the father to the older son, which is really an appeal by Jesus to the Pharisees.
The father reassures the older son that his brother’s return does not mean a diminished inheritance for him (v. 31).
"All that is mine is yours."
There was still more than enough for both sons.
The younger son’s return had not altered the inheritance arrangement—something the older son seems to have forgotten in his anger. The father’s love for one did not mean less love for the other. Grace is not a pie to be divided; it’s an ocean: limitless and undiminished no matter how many drink from it.
And yet, the reassurance of secure belonging, offered so freely to the older son, is not given to the Pharisees. The parable ends open-ended. It invites a response. It poses a question to the listener:
Will you enter the feast?
The warning is clear: those who reject God's grace to the undeserving may find themselves outside, resentful and alone—not because there wasn’t room for them, but because they refused to join the celebration.
CONCLUSION
Though in the immediate context the older son represents the Pharisees and scribes, and the younger son the tax collectors and sinners (Luke 15:1–2), the deeper truth is this: both sons live in each of us.
Like the younger son, we have all gone astray (Isaiah 53:6); we are rebellious, self-indulgent, and far from home. Like the older son, we can be self-righteous, bitter, and blind to our own need for grace—resentful when others receive mercy, even as we stand in constant need of it ourselves.
We are all younger sons. We need someone to come after us. We are all older sons. We fail to go after those who are lost.
But Jesus Christ is the true and better older brother. The older brother we all need.
Unlike the older brother in the parable, Jesus did not stay home in resentment. He left the Father’s side, not in rebellion, but in perfect obedience. He did not wait to be asked. He came willingly, seeking and saving the lost. He took on the shame of the cross; bore our sins; and brought us back to the Father—not merely as servants, but as beloved sons and daughters. And He delights that we share in His inheritance, having been clothed in His robe of perfect righteousness.
"But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son… so that we might receive adoption as sons." (Gal. 4:4–5)
That’s the Gospel of the prodigal’s return:
A father who runs,
A feast that never runs out,
And a brother who paid the price to bring us home.
And after paying the price to bring us home, He has returned to the Father to prepare a place for us. But He will come a second time to take us to be where He is (John 14:2-3). When I think of this, I remember the words of a dear hymn that captures the hope of His return in a way that lingers in the soul:
Jesus, my Savior, shall come from on high.
Sweet is the promise as weary years fly:
O I shall see Him descend from the sky,
Coming for me, for me!
Coming for me, for me,
Coming for me, for me;
O I shall see Him descend from the sky,
Coming for me, for me!